Unsung Hero – The Soldier
Warily he stood at the corner,
Wondering which way to turn.
A weary smile on his faded brow,
As he held out an old worn-out hat hoping for handouts,
A few miserly pennies or perhaps, even a piece of bread.
This once proud soldier,
Now reduced to being a petty beggar,
Was a remnant of a cruel war;
Where he once stood side-by-side with his comrades
And helplessly watched them fall one-by-one.
Cruel memories haunted his saddened heart,
As he each day he desperately tried to survive,
Wondering if it would have been better
If he too on the bloody battlefield had died -
But there was no real answer.
Maybe it was good that he had done his duty
Fighting for those who couldn’t.
But now he was forgotten and forlorn,
With no honor, no glory,
He was just a nobody.
With warm tears streaming down his cold cheeks,
Even now he thought of his fallen comrades,
Questioning if they were really in a better place -
His thoughts about his tortured past
Continued to cling to him,
Like the tattered coat
He wore during the day,
And used for a pillow at night.
In his mind, he was still on the battlefield,
Only this time he battled invisible foes -
A mind growing feeble, homelessness,
Hunger, loneliness, and most of all –
Not having anyone to love him.
Why do we persecute this Jesus?
this Palestinian Jew, with claim
to one almighty God?
Ahh! let me home, it’s all too
much, and no avail.
so I Longinus, leader of Pilate’s guard,
which nailed him up, (he never complained)
gave him up, his broken body to his
mother and the crowd; Oh! pitiful
crying and moaning, gnashing of teeth
in their pious, bloody grief
yet….he spoke to me, this Arab, this Jew,
with his eyes, he looked resolute and calm:
and a smile (aghast!) he had for me.
and the earth trembled and shook;
they loved him the many, I could see,
and I spoke out loud the words that I
believed, that he was real, and one with
and they looked at me, my men, and scowled,
ahh!...who are they to know?
and time and days passed. And I deserted:
and I took on the garb of wanderer, so as to
be free, and sensed a great commotion;
“he’s back!. He’s never dead!”
and I was led by disciples’ horny hands, for they
knew me now, to a tomb, gaping hole and door-stone
and they shouted “where is he? where’s the master?”
and a passing storm became a torrent and the rivers
swelled and the winds blew their strong wind,
and took away the grave’s harsh stink: then as
quickly as it had begun, a sound like the rumble
of a quake, split the sky and sunlight, warmed
and dried the earth around.
and there the master in shining white,
fresh with neat trimmed beard, as if out
for a walk with kith and kin, came.
and up on a mountain we followed to the
top, and he spoke; but because of the great
clamor all about him, I could only catch a
“make new disciples,” “ teach” and something
about him always being with us.
and then (I tell no lie)…his body took up to the
warm sky, with flowing robes and a choir of heavenly
verse, the likes of which I had never heard.
and he was gone.
and I taught his words, for some time after; and each
time I spoke I felt grown; and so, I lived my life:
but not for long; and soon I took his place and bid
the sorry world, this place, a painful goodbye.
and when next I saw his smile, his tearful foreign
eye; I swelled; and went to his side:
and he placed his hand in mine.
A Tribute to Jayson, My Brave Warrior
My dear son, Jayson
When you called late last night to let me know
You were deploying to go overseas tomorrow
In spite of my great resolve
I broke down and sobbed.
The little boy I lovingly nurtured
So witty and good-natured
So kind, compassionate, and loving
You’ll always be my sweet boy
Even though the world now sees you as a grown man.
Recalling special times when I showered your baby face with kisses
Or tickled your armpits
Howling with laughter, you would beg me
“Do it again, Mommy, I love it!”
I remember all those moments we had
At times rocky, sometimes sad
But most of all memorable and enjoyable.
I remember your growing pains
All your questions, anxieties, and mixed-up emotions
Yes, we made it through hurdles you and I
Making me laugh, making me cry
But taking that journey together was quite priceless!
You’re now a strong, valiant, young man
Willingly putting your life on the line
Many have thanked you for your service
And, my brave warrior, I am so proud of you
When I hear your humble, heartfelt reply, “Glad to do it!”
You’re just simply the best!
While you took a minute to leave the nest
I’m grateful for the extra time we were given
But I know
It’s time to let you go –
Go take your rightful place in the world.
You’ve grown wings like a fierce eagle
It’s your time to fly high! Now soar!
But remember that you are always a part of me
And even though we may no longer hold hands
We are still holding hearts.
These tear-splattered pages
Reflect my anguished heart
Knowing you’re prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for your country
I pray that you will return to me safe and sound
I love you, my hero - my precious son.
¡Vaya con Dios!
It’s not what she hears that day
No. It’s what she sees,
The image very nearly killed her
The neighbours say the scream was heard two blocks away
Though she can’t recall hearing what was said
No. It’s what she sees alright
Even to this day, she can feel the envelope
She can see the “WESTERN UNION” through the milky window
She can see the “THE SECRETARY OF WAR DESIRES ME TO EXPRESS…”
What she doesn’t hear, is what the Telegram Boy had to say
She still has the Telegram
Its yellow parchment a little brittle, the typed words
“HIS DEEP REGRET THAT YOUR SON…” a little smudged, tears she guesses
Though she doesn’t remember any tears, they came later
Along with the pain of not knowing, and the sorrow of knowing
Then almost a year to that day, it’s not what she hears
But what every mother would want to see
What every mother would want to feel
And every mother would dearly love to hear
“Hello mum, I’m home…”
8 May 2015
Craig Cornish’s Poetry Contest “A Mother’s Ears”
Lonely I was when I stood staring at the sky
Had a gun in my hand, was too afraid to cry
Fought bitter battles and never lived to tell
How at the altar of freedom, my body fell
My soul searches for reasons as to why I died
Did I save my people, had I tried?
Do they remember me, my deeds, my name
Are they proud of me or did I bring them shame
My battered body stood testimony to my fate
My heart had stopped in a battle brought about by hate
I had screamed in pain, and shivered with fright
But before I died, I did put up a fight
Remember me, my beloved country
It was I, my men, who brought you victory
I fought to the last bullet in my gun
I was a soldier, I was your son
Thoust message rings,
But it is a wretched beauty.
Sew up thine tongue;
It forks in many directions,
Ensnaring, passing through the centers,
Weaving a thread gleaming, deceivingly white,
Yet drenched in the black goo,
The sticky gobs of our source, our blood.
Cast aside thine needle,
Let time make it blunt.
Wallow in thine sorrow,
But only for a moment.
Up, up with you!
The sticky gobs cannot protect thee.
See me, Hear me.
For I see thee...
Thou hast split thine tongue
To hide, to forget.
Thine forked words, black to all, clear to me.
Go on, go ahead,
Walk through its enveloping black.
And when you cannot run,
And when you can’t do that anymore,
Find someone to carry you.
Thou art strong!
Let thine center give you new feet!
If even thine center falls weary,
I shalt be thine legs.
I shalt carry you, my friend.
My mama, my soldier
my comfort, my shoulder
to cry on, my boulder
I rely on I've told her
Nothing can replace the person that created you
someone there to help you no matter what you're going through
Someone who formed the person you became
someone who has sheltered you through waves and waves of rain
I can't say it enough, I love you with my whole heart
you're there to put me back together every time I fall apart
My mama, my soldier
my comfort, my shoulder
to cry on, my boulder
I rely on I've told her
Mama I hope I forever make you proud
but you know I'll always test your patience as much as I'm allowed
I know that you've forgiven all the stupid **** I've done
and you've dealt with so much stress to ensure my childhood was fun
I'm forever grateful for everything you've sacrificed for me
I hope I am that apple that didn't all far from the tree
My mama, ya dove you
put no one above you
life might push and shove you
but I'll always love you
My mama, my soldier
my comfort, my shoulder
to cry on, my boulder
I rely on I've told her
A lot of people take freedom, liberty, and even sleep for granted. They don't understand what it takes for them to be afforded those priveledges. They don't know how it feels to be on edge about everything that you hear. They don't know how it feels to be afraid to sleep. The don't know about the thunderous boom sound that makes your heart beat as fast as it can that becomes as normal as a telephone ring. You never know when or where the next boom will be, but you stay on edge hoping that it doesn't come in your direction. You lose sleep worrying about yourself, your friends, if you will ever see your children, if you will ever enjoy the place you call home, if you will go home as normal as you were when you left. Sometimes you find yourself alone with your thoughts and you just think about all the what ifs and find yourself filled with regret. There will be people giving advice, but they will never truly understand what you are going through. I guess we all find our way back to sanity eventually. We just have to learn how to make the crazy things normal. This is the path that we chose. These are the choices we made. We chose to support the country, no matter how big, or how small the role is that we have here. This is what separates us from everyone else. This is the life of a deployed soldier.
Streaking skyward the tracers rip
Into hanging soldiers
Falling about into mayhem
Pulsing through blood-filled ears
Hearing comrades scream
This is the war I found…
Hatred filled hardened hunter
Into smashed building
Homes pulverized rubble
Strewn about the decaying mass
The scorched metal burning
Bodies of the fallen men
The miasma of war I forever inhale…
Tigers rolling through billowed flame
Firing upon burnt battlefield blindly
Retreating in terror I leave the voices
Calling as I my boots tamp by arms
Reaching for safety I couldn’t render
Brothers abandoned in the Arnhem snow
These are the ghosts of war who haunt me….
Battle’s percussion on the horizon distant
I fade through the fields upon the Rhein
Farmhouses glow a midnight path
Walking to the beat of gun fire echoes
Off the walls of a shelter a little boy sits
Unafraid of the man feeding him chocolate
In the crater of a bomb…
This flash of hope my salvation from war.
For more details, please see my Blog dated 7th April 11
'In India, a new Revolution is in the offing'
A New Hope shown by Anna Hazare in India
A new torch is there in your hands, dear Anna Hazare*,
A torch by which you are waking up the souls
Of millions and millions of our sleeping citizens.
To wake up and to remove the curses created by many of our
Corrupt bureaucrats and down to earth polluted politicians,
Such people inspire only directly or indirectly in my country
Violence, crime, corruption, and greedy coalitions.
No words are sufficient to thank you, O soldier of Gandhi,
As by non-violence, only Gandhi wanted to change the society.
God has given you an opportunity to do something,
O bold soldier
Several hundred thousands are standing with you and
Millions would join your campaign for removing the curse of corruption,
Effecting our country and many countries of the world,
All these are the result of ever-increasing greed and misdeeds of many such bureaucrats and politicians,
Such people are ruining many countries of the world by their
Ever increasing lustful temptations for money and greed for power and pelf.
In an era when the world is facing its new Renaissance of knowledge and awakening,
We salute your guts and efforts to bring a wind of change in my country.
Just keep walking with the torch of courage and hopes you have lighted,
As millions and millions more are waiting to join your efforts or
Waiting to start a campaign like this in every country,
As all the nations of the world are facing the tortures created by unworthy bureaucrats
Keep the torch high to light up the nation with a new light,
Our dear soldier Anna Hazare.
Kanpur India 08th April 2011
Anna Hazare* . Anna Hazare is a 73 years old man and one of India's
well-acclaimed social activists. A former soldier in the Indian army,
Anna is well known and respected for upgrading the ecology and
economy of the village of Ralegan Siddhi which is located in the
drought prone Ahmednagar district of Maharashtra state
An old man looking out his door,
gaze fixed on a distant shore,
reminiscing to a time, not of happiness,
or, the prospect of a bright future,
to when he was sick to his very core,
to when as a youth, he went to war
A time before infallibility had meaning,
patriotism and bravado the craze,
the future was still unknown,
vigor for life at its all time high,
a time for romance, partying, buying,
no thought of pain, deformity, dying
Too young to understand or question,
ship to foreign shore, medals abound,
will impress the girls next time in town,
sacrifice not temporary,
a legacy etched into a wall, few will remember,
flesh shredded, burned, torn,
A time, when he willingly went to war,
will happen no more,
all lost in youth, now unrelenting,
no blind obedience,
long life, his number one ambition
As he turns back from the door,
he thinks of the youth,
here now, soon no more,
lessons never learned,
the call to war,
to common the roar,
complacency the mood,
another generation removed
The old man agonizes
over what was originally not known,
war is preventable,
life too precious to waste,
the solution simple,
his vision, maybe too late
Send old men to the front to fight,
arthritis, heart disease, poor eyesight,
let the youth enjoy their life,
his near over, its only right
Send old men, to the front, to fight
ask them to give up their life,
patriotism and bravado, still alive,
will and desire would not last the night,
old men do not rush to death in their twilight,
failure inevitable, the old man smiles,
knows he's right
Wars not possible,
if old men, are sent to fight
I sit upon the water's edge, and look across the sea
and wonder if you look upon a crimson sky, ..like me?
The sun is coming up for you, yet here the day is done
You are someone I have never met, and may be feeling down...
While, here I'm safe, and I pray you are, and pray you're not alone
I write with pen, in the dimming light, this letter to you, now,
and implore the sun will let you know, ....I thought of you today...,
so far away on foreign land, in a place I've never known
If I could reach my hand to you, and to tell you how I care
You keep me safe, tonight I'll pray, and God will hear my call
and I'll gladly share my heart to you, to thank you for it all
When you return to welcome arms and stars are brightly shining
I pray that we can meet one day, so I can thank your kindness
of bravery, of sacrifice, of heroism's blindness
Then we shall stand, together safe, to watch the day declining....
8/26/14 For Contest sponsored by Mystic Rose
Dearest Son, you are so far away from us,
Yet in my heart thou'art here beside me always,
My little boy are you grown, a soldier standing guard
On distant shore, their to protect the great U.S.A.
But you'll always be my small miracle, whom I love
More than any anthem playing, the stars and strips forever,
No flag folded in honors respect, could make up for the loss
Of one so dear, to a mothers loving heart.
Alone at night I sit beneath the glittering stars of wonder,
And ponder do you see them too, my son from where ever
The ink on this letter maybe runny, for many nights worth
Of tears have I shed in missing thee, but I know you will return
Unto me, my dearest boy, for God the heavenly father, watches
Over thee for me.
Around your neck is the symbol of our faith, it is a mother's
Promised vow that someday your return unto those whom love
Thee most of all.
For every miles you've traveled, whatever distances separation,
Know my thoughts never stray from thee, and loves heart connection,
Binds us together forever as one, my precious son, and his devoted mother.
When soldiers come home, a band shall always play, and drums of valor
Can be heard from afar, but nothing can compare to the heart's beating
Within those family members who have been waiting, for their men to
Come home from war.
Mine is one of those drumming hearts, and I will be waiting always to
Embrace thee my little boy, whose gone to be a soldier.
Sincerely your loving mother.
The sight of blood, savage limbs,
Perpendicular glossary to sky,
Why so symbolic could it be, so divine?
Melting skulls, haste tongues,
Humble severed from commands,
Is it a war zone at its end, or something like slim disease to propose?
A wise man once said,
That the term Love, Should never be thrown around if;
You can never feel or distort from it.
My question to the wise man,
When will war end,
But I never got to propose such a question.
Young brother young brother I see we are close to cross that mountain,
No matter your age origin or color, or creed.
I consider you my young brothers.
He celebrated his enlistment
And proudly showed the pictures of his plane,
A screaming bird emblazoned with the stars
And stripes. He joked about our home fried chicken
And kissed his baby sister, promising
To bring back toys and treats from foreign lands.
He believed in freedom, said that all
The people of the world should have that chance;
The Viet Cong would rue the day
The soldiers of America marched across their land.
They brought him home in pieces,
Shielded in a casket closed, draped
With the flag he bravely served.
We take the roses to his grave,
Red and white and bound with ribbons blue;
We weep, not alone for him,
But for the “huddled masses yearning to breath free,”
And for the valiant efforts that may have been in vain.
My precious son, welcome home
Let me hold you, embrace you, for you are not alone
My how you’ve changed, what battle has done
From serving your country, my soldier son
Your shoulders are broader, your face is like stone
Your hands are all battered, ankles worn to bone
You’ve shed lots of blood, and flood many tears
For you are a man, who’s truly faced fears
You’ve done the unthinkable, and have taken a life
And prayed for the courage, to do it in strife
You’ve lost many brothers, in battle abroad
And know that they rest, in a place next to God
I know who you are, because Im the same man
Now sit back and listen, while I hold your hand
I’ll tell you a tale, of freedom and pride
For I am God’s son, like you I have died
You see I’ve been a soldier, since the beginning of time
Fighting for good, my mission divine
I’ve died for Gods children, which you too have done
Your master is thankful, my soldier son
You were not blessed, with riches or gold
But with gifts much greater, than can ever be sold
You see god made you, with one mission in mind
To protect his creation, your mission divine
I know you have scars, that run deep inside
That man cannot see, but from me they can’t hide
Now hand me those burdens, in me you confide
Lay them at my feet, I’ll wear them with pride
Your mission is over, so lets take you home
To meet our great father, the man on the throne
He loves you so much, for what you have done
I welcome you home, my soldier son
Rhett Connolly, Author>
Running, after more than you, can hold.
Taking, someone else’s love, and leaving.
Children are fearful of what they’re told.
Can’t you see I’m the one who’s freezing?
I was just a child with a trinket
Never knowing that it’d be, more to me
When you were gone to, too far, from me.
Steady with your hands close to my heart
Never letting our world’s tear us apart
I know, your icicles
I miss the beaches that we played on
You missed the child in your own eyes
Now you’re gone,
But I’m still not here.
Why can’t you wake up
I’m not ready
Please, just take your time, don’t leave now
I can’t fight this world alone.
We broke bread at dawn
Cold and shivering
Faces dirty, hearts weary
the kettle boiling over
a dying fire
tea meant to soothe
our bones and joints aching
a bubbling soup hits our
nauseous bellies and
we fight to keep the swill down
covered in grease from that
horse we had to put down yesterday
war is no place for a noble beast
but man feels right at home
at first. and then he longs
for his own hearth
the wooden floors muddy
with boot and paw prints
ears burning from the
wife's incessant nagging
and the fresh scent of
laundry set out to dry
left overnight. again.
the grunt of the pigs
digging in the slop.
Slop far more agreeable than
And that trusty steed alone in the stable.
But a fence has no business caging
a noble beast.
A man feels right at home. At first.
But then he longs for those nights of his
The girls, the wine, the merriment.
The friends, long gone in some war.
Perhaps this one.
No one to answer to but his dog
His own two legs carry him everywhere
Free, free is the only place for a noble beast
But a man is no horse.
Though he is a beast.
as the hypocrite talking head
seeking re-election in 2012
tells us all that this empire (which continues to wield its
sledge hammer upon the world)
this “land of the free”
(who demands that all others follow in its
is one which “unlike the old empires,”
does not force its will upon the people of this planet
“for territory or resources,”
a soldier watching
shoves their finger down their throat
forcing themselves to vomit up the
utterly visceral disgust
which accompanies the knowledge that
s/he has taken part in making Iraq
the soldier is coming home to a country
whose chose the spending of money on
bashing Afghanistan & Iraq
to be more important than providing employment,
affordable housing or
a decent education system
to its own citizens---
instead we have taken pleasure in killing those abroad
so that they will be forced to be like us---
so that one day they can have
no health care,
no affordable housing or
a decent education system
(that is, if they don’t already reside in such a state as a
product of our entrance & extraction of all their
resources for use within our borders).
Make him A Soldier
Make him a soldier
so I won't cry anymore
Transform a boy to a man
so he will stand...alone
In the dark forest
as natural combustion of dusk in the sky
Red blood running through our veins is the same
identical as if we share the same DNA
And even as a child I couldn't deny how our hearts beat the same
Rate pulse pace...boom
it startled me
but as I gaze in his eyes
I felt a deep connection
as if he knew me better than I knew myself
Our love is so pure and shall never be tampered
and even if life tries to poison us
we will always have each other
a million miles away from me
and as he travels from sea to sea
I think of him daily
I try to remember where we came from
Blossomed from a tulip where our petals do not vary
and the sepals seem to follow a course set to sail
So I beg you
Make him A soldier
so I won't cry an ocean of tears
Transform a boy to a man
so he will stand beside me in my darkest hour.
Help me to raise my head
when he is long gone from here
When my fears are red
my soul turns blue
let me remember the purity of us
how I loved a my brother a man of red, white and blue!
I see you
with your clothes from
shoes that have seen
to many miles,
and furrowed brow.
And pined upon your chest,
ribbons and medals,
won in some long forgotten
telling me your mind
is still living those battles,
of your youth.
Only when speaking with you,
as your face comes
Letting you know
I am A soldier
I am a soldier I stand proud to honor my country.
I refuse to take second to any other nation.
I love my country. It's flag and it's people.
I will defend my country and all which it stands for with my life.
I will say no and bow to no other leader or it's rules.
For I'm an American and a hero to those that believe in it.
Thank you all for honoring me and the many that serve this country.
The president extols his bravery,
praises his performance.
The media berates his mission,
questions his integrity.
His wife waits and hopes,
sends photos of the children.
Musicians write his story;
his mother prays for safety.
He dons fighting gear,
second nature to him now,
pushes away thoughts of home,
on the present hour.
He's just doing his job,
defending the cause,
fighting for freedom.
Published by Poetry Explosion of PA
In Loving Memory of my Dad, Peter J. Mariotti
He left this world on May 9, 2011. I miss him so.
50 Years-Korean War
Dad, you were one of the foot soldiers,
When the Korean War began,
You were among the many to fight
In this foreign land,
You went bravely into battle,
Because our country told you to go,
You didn’t ask any questions
You just went to fight the foe,
North Korea was Communist,
South Korea was not,
The country had been split
After World War II,
Now American boys were fighting
On Korean soil,
The South Koreans needed help from
The Red, White and Blue
Dad, you were a hero,
You served our country well,
Now after 50 years
You finally were able to tell,
The story of your war
And the misery you saw,
The Korean War had been forgotten
But now at long last,
It will be remembered,
As an important part of our past.
Celine Rose Mariotti
The Broken Soldier
An old man
Over a hundred years old
Laying in a bed
His mind travels back to a time
He lived a life no one had to live
An ANZAC storming the shores of Turkey
An unknown place called Gallipoli
He watched s his friends died on the beach
His brothers died fighting in the trenches
Blood flowing in rivers
Soldiers running across acres of the dead
While officers hide miles away
Sleeping in the wet trench
He cried a tear for every ANZAC who fell
That time affected him
Seeing so much pain and death
He was never again quite right
The boy as gone
All that was left was a broken soldier
With memories he should not have
A century later
He still remembers
He has shed a billion tears
But when he dies, he will be happy
He will be with his friends and brothers
Once again, laughing and drinking beer in the pub
And he will be happy
Hark! It is he!
A slate face; devoid!
Mechanical, computing, sleepless.
No! Just human!
Turning, just turning!
He will not fall, now expressionless.
The dark gazeth!
Yet, he wont gaze back!
Four days, sleepless, faceless, for all!
His face is stone.
No care, there's no care!
Persist amidst all of the loss.
It is but he!
designed to be.
It is but he!
Shrug the abyss,
he will nev'r fail;
designed to be.
Shrug the abyss.
Through it all,
he leaveth none for all!
To see the end of it all,
the completion of it all!
None but all.
Four days sleepless,
it is none but he!
Faceless, breathless, mechanized.
Look! See him now!
With bags under eyes.
See him now, the man with no face.
It is he,
Be it so! Be it so!
To see the end of it;
the destruction of it all!
It is he.
The brave soldier
Who stands firm
Like the fickle shell of a snail
Before the oncoming foot of titans
The brave soldier,
A ferocious bee
Who strikes his stinger into the enemy
Comforted by fleeting thoughts of heroism
-a safeguarded hive
Thoughts that flit away in the wind
Like windswept Pollen ambushed by desert
-as the bee falls for the cause
The brave invader
Who fells foe for his country
All hail murderer,
Comforted by a noble cause
Sent out on wings of glory to cut down fanged tigers
Purging threats, safeguarding life
For all tigers are fanged
All people threats
-All people life
The weary soldier
Joined out of a desperate cause
A squalling infant, a taunting belly
And the weary soldier
Gives his sacrifice to the gods of the Hive
And prays for rain.
My shoulders are well oiled axles,
my fists are cannon balls
I am an uncompromised,
and unchallenged fresh breath of boldness
I am a statue of fastholding,
chiseled down from black diamonds by the strong hand of craftsmanship
I am chaos's more stable second cousin,
and favored uncle to the prodigals, the proliferates, the princes, and the prodigies
I am the lion's heart beat,
the war drum's sporadic syncopation
I am the wolf pack's collective sixth and seventh senses,
keen on the scent of blood, fear, and impending annihilation
I will not sway to the breath of your voice
nor will I stagger at the wind your weather weaves
Advance upon me and find yourself hard pressed against calloused intolerance,
behind which is a wall,
and behind that wall,
I pray you combust into flames and feathers at once
should my name birth from your lips
I pray my night guardsmen have eyes of eagles,
and my trumpeteers have breaths of behemoths should you
ever encroach upon my camp at dreaming hour
I promise to empress upon you pressure,
of a nature that spawns pearls, magma, and passionate revolution
But the only revolution that will come of your resistance is vertigo,
as you spiral downward into abysmal forgottenness
Now heed my words with intent lest you risk the fate of faded bewilderment
May God be my strength as I destroy you
I will obliterate you until the only remnant of your very existence
is but a vague memory,
of a fleeting idea
in a dream
inside a dream
inside a coma.
The Song of Peace
On the ground,
a man is walking,
a soldier driving his tank,
there are flowers
on both sides of the road
noone sees the flowers
the man is killed
his family cries,
and so do the flowers.
the soldier is killed,
his family cries,
and so do the flowers.
the man and the soldier,
meet beneath the ground,
and grow flowers
in an eternal garden...
the road is empty
there are no men,
waving in the evening breeze,
singing the song of peace,
But nobody hears it!
He laid there, warm and happy. Defeated as one, but successful as two.
A bullet hole straight through his chest. Another dark green uniform stained,
By the dark red liquid seeping through the torn fabric.
One hundred and one desperate young soldiers, laid to rest by the tip of his pistol.
A rifle jammed and abandoned just a mile away.
The last puff of smoked tobacco, freely evaporates into the broken spans of oxygen.
Fought for his family, his country, his land and our land.
Breached toward liberty, and founded it. At the tip of another’s Beretta M9…
This is America, America is you. America is he, she, and me.
I am “The America”.
Open and free, to you, including me. I’ve held my guard, stood stiff and tall.
Fought hard, till this day, to wave “hello”, to the one race “individuals” every single day.
Wave back, or don’t wave at all, I’ll respect you as an American and not a flaw.
United or divided; we are one nation, that stands under religion, we are one nation.
Black, white, tall, or small, whatever it is, WE respect all.
Our flag does and will, stand to protect us all.
WE ARE ONE NATION, FOREVER YOU AND I.