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!
I have seen the "corners of the world,"
heard the songs of many languages.
I have helped bring peace from many wars,
and played with the poor children of many countries.
I have tasted the fine wines, spirits and beers,
ate the feasts fit for a king, scraps, and dry meal.
I have seen the militias of other countries,
and the destruction of towns and cities due to war.
I have experienced Many Things,
exciting, horrible, memorable and painstakingly unforgettable.
As I lay on my hospital cot,
I slip in and out of consciousness.
I think about the things I have done in my life,
and yet the things I haven't.
My family, my parents, marriage and kids.
I've made my parents proud,
became someone by raising in ranks.
I've brought safety to my country,
joy and pride to my friends and family.
But I haven't had the chance,
to watch my kids grow up and start their life.
To play baseball with my son and coach his soccer team,
to take my daughter shopping or threaten their dates.
I haven't had the chance
to live on in retirement.
To meet my grandchildren and spoil them,
with stories and watch their faces light up.
As I lay looking up at the white
Red Cross tent canvas,
I think about the regrets
that many soldiers grasp, struggle, and
try to push away,
but still continue to crave.
As a soldier goes to leave this world,
there's always those final regrets.
They could be such as the want for
one last cigarette,
one last drink,
one last song,
or even one last intament companion.
Still with different beings,
there are different regrets.
Always one last something,
tangible or not,
something to go away happy,
peaceful minded, blissed, and
*Note: This poem was inspired by Mr. L.A. Meyers who wrote the "Bloody Jack" Series
The Quote of Inspiration: "Trouble is, as a soldier goes to leave this world, he always
has some regrets-- he
still wants one more smoke, one more drink, one more song..." His breathing is becoming
more labored and I
know he is weakenin. "...and one more girl."
I made this to mold any military branch and both females and males.
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.
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
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).
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
You decided to leave your families and friends behind.
It was your choice to defend our country this time.
With tears in your eyes and faith in your heart.
You put that uniform on with the intentions of protecting us.
I can't imagine the things you have seen and done.
The hurt and sadness you have overcome.
Looking over your shoulder every turn of the way.
Just so we could have freedom and liberty today.
Your boots sink into the ground of a foreign land.
and the feeling of loneliness sets in.
Now on your own, with no way, to go back home.
Remember God is protecting you now.
Let God carry you when you have no strength left to go on.
Let God's love cover you through the storm.
When you need to cry and talk.
God will be there no matter where you're at.
talk to him like he is there
Look for him in times of uncertainty and despair.
Don't try to be an iron man
God knows you are scared.
He knows all you have sacrificed
So others could have a life.
You may see it as a job.
But others see the hero you have become.
Dedicated to our soldiers past, present and future. Thank you for all you do!
Tell me America ,
Will you win this war ?
Will you bring cruelty to gallows ?
I see you daily here;
Left and right like pendulum,
Ups and downs like leaf-cutters,
Building army, building allies,
Pacing faster on trick’s ladder;
Still this monster is gargantuan,
Like phoenix looks its soul,
Like elixir its spirit.
Storms cruelty gathers daily
The brutish it breeds like ants,
Their fangs like shoemakers' hammers;
Making hell of every metre
That I am affraid America;
From which hedge will you strike,
From which side will you come ;
To bring brutality to its knee?
The day mother bought a hen
And let it loose for airing a bit
No sooner it met the brutish
Than the cruel scraped its head
With their vampire’s aching-pecks.
On their feast of bear your fangs;
The green were shredded like young okra,
And the gray like potato chips;
Every foot wore sock of red ;
That an aged man sermonised :
Monster's world , young as the day is ,
Lions have made morsel of antelopes.
Who shall tame the lions ?
Who shall safe the necks of antelopes ?
Tell me America, will you win this war ?
Will you bring cruelty to gallows ?
Will you tame the lions and cage the peckers ?
The lions are roaring everywhere and there,
Their noise becoming louder and deafening
Worldly peace in monsters' cage , tell me,
Please be eloquent; will you win this war
Or we start building temples for terrors ?
As we traveled along in our horse and buggy
The air smelled heavy with dew
Our horses were tired and hungry
And most of us were too
We only have a days travel at least
we might as well rest for a bit
So I set up camp by this covered bridge
and decided to have a sit
My bread and dried meat tasted bland
so I washed it down with some mead
Set up my bed, and unpacked my things
fell asleep in the summer heat
I awoke to some movement off in the woods
was my mind just playing games
i heard nothing more, so I laid my head
fell asleep to the crackling flames
The fog became dense, much too thick to see
A scream shattered through the night
i grabbed my things, pulled sword to hand
running, ready for a fight
I heard the clash of steel ring through the air
the smell of battle on the rise
I met the enemy head on
screaming bloody battle cries
Casting soldier after soldier down to the ground
I heard their grunts and moans
Taking them down quickly
Before their brothers hear their groans
But there were just too many to hold off
The bodies were starting to pile
So I grabbed a few guys
and got every women and child
We ran down the road to the Covered Bridge
and hid down in the ravine
We heard the horses hoofs overhead
and we were never seen
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
They are angry
At us for deceiving
We're left in this cold alley
Thrown like dog's
Im waiting for the right time
But my pulse is not going so fast as when they were here
Because of a religion im a target
Because i want to be myself
They want me
And my beloved
Please tell me your ok
Tell me is over now
All she asked me
My self with frozen tears falling down
A little bit longer and we are gonna be in heaven
She said i am lying
Sometimes truth is hidden between lies
She want's me to hold her tight
But we must play dead until every one else die
I asked her back
Do you remember?
When We met each other
Playing dead with the dogs
She said back
And look at us now
Playing dead again with death by the side
I told her there how much i loved her
She stood quiet
After long seconds she said with her trembling voice
Snow is cold
Heart is not strong
I told her to focus
It was gonna be over soon
Then she said repeated i love you
Then i stood quiet
I was gonna say love you too
When a soldier jumped at us and started shooting at the dead bodies
I looked at her pretty eyes
Her frozen lips i say the move and i spelled "I Love You"
Right there bullets got her
Her blood was every were
The soldier wasted all his bullets
Then he left
My cried there
But the cold didn't my tears fall
Two nights later
The invasion was over
I was able to stop playing dead
I ran to her body
And hug it tight
Saying sorry and repeating i love you hundreds of times
For that time the sun shined bright on that solo tunnel
I looked at the sun with fear
And asked why did she left...
She promise me before they came here she wasn't gonna die
Not with my son inside
Then tears broke from my eyes like a river
Two lives in one
How can that embrace my life
Then i stood up and walked away
The note i never lend to her...
My love, much time have passed since last time, i am most certain i haven't called either
send a picture of me, but everything is fine, hope you are too, by the way i wanted to
remind you how much and how strong i love you, i promise one thing, I will not die, you
will see me one more time, a time that will cut forever, hope the sun is burning bright
there, i heard snow is bad, i will come back home in 6 days, ti'll then put your love on
the pocket, i'll be back home darling...
Much Love, your Husband Wes Ortiz
Last night I had a dream - I was following Jesus
on the path of sorrows, while He was carrying
his cross. Than I saw a solider beat him with
I ran fast as I could to go and help him. but when
I got close - I looked at the soldier and saw a
reflection of my face on his.
I couldn't believe that I was that soldier that with
whip on my hand I was beating up on Jesus. I said
to myself - how could this be? How can I be doing
At that moment I woke up from the dream. I was
glad. I reflected on the dream and on my past life.
I knew then, that with all the bad things and the
sins I had committed - I had hurt Jesus and now
He was paying for me.
Today I kneel here at your feet with tears in my eyes
and a repented heart. I ask you Jesus to clean me of my
sins and give me your forgiveness. Amen...
This is for Holy week
By Lucilla M. Carrillo
The child turned to his future
asking what am I to be
a poet or a soldier
who shall make this choice for me
am I to lead or am I to follow
what is my destiny
the child suddenly felt a whisper
flow through his very being
you may choose what you shall be
but hear this moment well
from this heartbeat on
you alone decide your legacy
Hannibal and Burns
not so different than you or me
one shared his words with the world
the other took all that he could see
every man writes his own history
before he is laid to rest
a soldier and a poet
each one mere flesh and bone
both shall surely perish as mortals
each chooses their own battlefield
a soldier shields himself with armour
a poet is protected by his truth
a soldier may wage fear because he can
the poet builds with words and belief
one yields a sword as a weapon
the other draws a landscape with prose
the soldier lives to follow orders
a poet hears the wind
a soldier takes by force
the poet bestows imagination
one seeks the spoils of war
the other merely time to think
one grants conditions of surrender
the other will shares his daily bread
a soldier may cross to a new frontier
the poet traverses galaxies
one occupies a country
the other captivates the mind
one sees sunrise as time to march on
the other to kneel and give thanks
the child then chose
where his journey would take him
bidding farewell to his days of innocence
bowing humbly to the vast sea
in his heart he took in a mighty wave
whispering share this journey with me
Irish Qualicum Bay 2008
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.
The soldier, the war, and I
Today I am home and thinking to my self..
What would I be doing if I had a soldier coming home to me and my family?
What would I be doing if I was the soldier looking to going home to my family?
And then, I look back at all the years passed since this last war..
Many children have grown to become men, Others have grown to become soldiers
Where would I be if I had gone to the war and fought for my country?
Where would I be if I had gone and came back safely?
Where would I be if I had not gone at all because I was not qualified to go?
Would I be with my family or in a hospital injured?
Would I be standing proud, and laughing with my friends and family?
Or would I be dead, as I never got to come back?
Today I am home and thinking to myself..
Thinking of all of those brave soldiers, children still
Who are out there, suffering.. And some ill
Today I am home and thinking to myself..
How many woman are crying because of their gone loved ones
How many men are crying for their loved and missed ones
How many children are fatherless or motherless, or both!
And at the end I stop. I think no more..
I am grateful for the things I have,
I am grateful for the people who surround me...
And I am sure grateful to never have gone to a war; yet,
I sure appreciate the thoughts, courage, life, and suffering
Of all of those who have been touched by it.
Led down from the tower
Head high and hands bound
Blindfold declined against the wall
Black square pinned to his heart
His eyes afire and shining
And he sang...
He sang of Caruso, Townes Van Zandt
Pavarotti, Bocelli, Mercury,
Carreras, he sang of Antoine,
Of Sinatra, Lennon, Morrison, Redding
He sang and songbirds paused in flight
He sang like them all
He sang a song of himself
Of leaves of grass, of second comings
Of Byron, and Bharti, and Cummings
He sang of Neruda, and Plath, Tagore
Dickinson, Kamala Das and Naidu
Oh, he sang of them all
He sang of art and beauty
Of Mona Lisa and starry nights
Girls in green dresses and pearls
He sang of Van Gogh, of Picasso
Of Rembrandt, da Vinci
He sang of Michelangelo
He sang of sadness, pain
He sang of My Lai, Sand Creek
Of Guernica and Krystallnacht
He cried and sang of Wounded Knee
Of Katyn Forest, Sabra and Shatila
Oh, he wept as he sang
He sang of history and wonders
He sang of Olduvai and pyramids
Machu Picchu, Tikal, and Angkor Wat
He sang of a great wall, the Taj Mahal
Stonehenge, Easter Isle, Mesa Verde
His song took us to them all
He sang of courage
A song of Bunker Hill, Gettysburg
Of the Alamo, Normandy, Stalingrad
Of Lincoln, Guevara and Dr. King
He sang of Bolivar, Bhutto, Ghandi
He shamed us with their song
He sang his song...
As women sighed and peasants cried
He sang until the rifles fired, he died
Songbirds fell from the sky
Soldiers broke their guns on stones
And marched into the deep blue sea.
Green fluorescent glow
lights up his cell
bombs explode intermittently
leaving mushroom clouds
A soldier is standing across another.Between them a lake with soal waters.A gun is standing
across another.Different hands are carrying them as different are the eyes looking at each
other.As barrels are pointing, as terror commands they stay still like statues without souls.
''Drop it''! Yells the first one ''Or you will be dead''.The second soldier does not speak.He stays
there, stern, like a Taurus in front of the red cloth.They are angry, they are afraid.The sun is
shading it's light upon the edge of the guns and shadows of themselves appear behind them like
their other selves in a bloody past,a revolution of cause unknown,a windy blaze of souls
incomplete.As seconds passing they remember the moments they lived in a life carved.They see
in front of them the last smile of a friend lost, fire and gunpowder their body smells.They are
watching the same terror in front of each other eyes as battlefield was not a gap but a bridge to
bind together the same scars loads they will be carrying for the rest of their lives carved with
blood, human's blood they have in their hands.They do confront their choices in an empty paper
with unwritten words their lost dreams folding the nights of their youth, youth defeated and
shaken.Bombs are exploding covering the creepy silence. Screams and terror a cruel repeat that
makes the souls return to ground.They now know.They cant fight against each other.They can
only fight against their fate.A voice coming from the first like a scream of despair says: ''Forgive me''.A tear falls on the land, planting a divine reason on earth.
He stood there with grease up and down his woolen uniform
Tears drenched his solemn pale face
From beneath the bunker he crawled belly first
Corpses of soldiers scattered like red leaves in a Mideast autumn day
But here no wind was blowing
No noise but the tears and sniffling of the young Dutch boy
He came out from where he was hiding
Beneath a German tiger tank
They stood there engaging eyes upon each other
Neither knowing what to expect of the other
The soldier reached deep in his knapsack for a treasure that would bring a momentary smile
Broken in several pieces he sensed, but not melted
A sigh of relief as he attempted to reach out to the little man
Not more than ten years old but forced to deal with the pain of a never ending war
Forced to mature overnight as the bodies of his parents were already carried away
On the backs of wagons
With dirt and grime wedged beneath his war torn hands he reached out
He reached out to touch the little boy’s hand
From behind him he presented a gift as though it was Christmas morn
A single Hershey’s chocolate bar to soften his heart
The boy reached out and took the bar excitedly
Never expecting to find chocolate amongst the ruins of his once beautiful town
Never expecting to even find a friendly face that would be interested in how he felt either
He stood there eating the chocolate bar slowly
Savoring each morsel of kindness
The soldier disappeared into the darkness
The boy stood there contemplating the moment he met this angelic soldier
They would be forever friends in his heart
The little man with his chocolate bar and the soldier
This fight is over.
They would kill us both
without any remorse.
I am not afraid
I am weak.
Yet you, so young and pure
who doesn’t even know peace.
I cannot fight,
So now, go young one.
And do not forget the land
of your birth.
I cannot walk,
I am done for
so now, go young one
and save yourself.
I cannot speak
I am too weak
so now, go young one
and gain the strength to fight.
You are young,
and you are strong.
I am dying
so now, go young one
and live for those who died.
They are here now
to kill us both.
So run little one
and remember me
for always till eternity.
Here lies the gallon of horse’s blood
and soldier lies beneath this hope now dead,
trapped within mans sin
waiting for bayonets kiss.
In this moment of war, these seconds of time
the shadow of foe merges into one
and fate is held in mind.
The trigger or the knife?
To feel a man as blade enters his heart
can only come from hate.
The trigger is easier the civilised way
This conscience that looks on helpless foe
expected to kill, just one bloody more,
feels the cross of servants war
that Kaiser bids by heaven and crown
to give reapers charge his due.
For crown has right to heaven’s door
and empire would deny me this.
Yet my hand it does tremble
to see the eyes of England.
This soul of man with broken colours
for he is the wretch of me,
and though we speak in mother’s words,
I hear only the voice of a common man.
For language can merge this pain
and our blood will always pour both ways.
And in this moment, these seconds of war.
My German heart strokes sorrow on comrade beast,
a reminder of edelweiss days
of mountain silence and the purity of home
and a tear unites, what has been lost.
Hate and foe are gone this day,
replaced by Bucephalus blood
For here lies a noble beast.
Bucephalus blood has touched the hearts of men
this moment of war is betrayed
The soul of a soldier can walk away
and dignity is mine this day.
And as I return to comrades trench
This moment of life is all I have.
The clock of war demands the kill,
And this reservoir of blood is deep
for men are but sheep
bleating before the gun.
And bitter is the taste of Bucephalus blood
I will not shoot at you?
To waste this nature, this flower of time
Taken from the valley of life
To be spilled by blind invention
My grave will carry not your cross
For Man is not worthy of gallant charge
His mind is drowned in tomorrow’s corpse
and killing is all that is planned
For Peace lies hidden in common man,
banished to a mountain of hope
which war refuses to climb?
And the rope has taken the drop
For the many who have tried.
This war will ride on Bucephalus back,
his spirit will die alone
and Alexander will weep among the gods
as brothers fall in Flanders field,
killed by the widows rant
and anointed with Bucephalus blood.
THE LOST SOLDIER'S LOVER
Her heart plays bellows to heighten nightly fires of solitude,
Playful flames of terror taunt a dancing flicker of despair
New dawn's burning pain --kindling knowledge of love's certain loss.
What false anticipation promises the quiet cool of healing?
Why does a fragile unscorched hope cling desperately
When her only healing balm lay ever hidden---
Blown astray as ashes in a far and thankless land?
They fight for are freedom
Their dying so we have freedom
their willing to risk their lives for us
But we do nothing for them
I am proud of everyone who fights for us
I thank them everyday
If they weren't fighting for us
Where would we be
So think about that
Next time you leave your house
Next time you walk past a soldier
For what they've given you
They've given you
We wouldn't be here without them
For everything you do!
I'm off to save the world.
When you truly know that life is worth living
When you truly feel that love is for giving
To die is a beautiful thing.
When you truly feel that hate is forbidden
When you truly know that death is worth heeding
To try is a beautiful thing.
Fate then becomes no more than a brief sweet moment,
Hanging upon anyone’s stiffened husky throat,
Waiting for our merciful God’s healing,
To release it in:
woeful dreams of shattered hearts
bode cries of weary souls adrift
in sorrow’s impossible embrace
its deathless spirit forever longing
unknown questions overwrought
in darken corners without sound
till quiet whisper’s passing hope
their bosom bursting with secrets
in vain consciously disappeared
a shadowy mystery’s forgotten
nightmare knowingly awakened
in blindness’ forbidden retreat
a senseless loss yet unexplained
engulfed by continuous despair
in a maelstrom’s hidden depths
its tipping point deeply mired
by nonstop waves of lost tears
in a tempest of howling winds
of returned dust e’er scattered
from east to west and beyond
in the cycle of life now undone
when enough is NOT enough
and Hade’s thirst is quenched
in limbo men’s souls remain
© Eugene Harvey
It is hard to see
all the hurt that was done
in wars that went before,
Red poppies help
and say that we will remember them
but seem to imply that wars will carry on.
Above all it seems we do not remember them.
To remember them we must turn our backs on war
then we really remember them.
They say that white poppies stand for peace
more, that they do not stand for war
I want most of all that we make a tudor rose
a kind of poppy thing with red and white.
Two flowers together
a small white upon a larger red.
This pleads to stop all wars and show what hurt
went on before and that many fought who did not want.
Let us remember not to send our people out to fight.
Let us remember them before they go.
We will remember them.
Deep in the woods I can hear a twig snap
A bird goes into flight that was sitting on a limb beside me
And it just so happens that right now we are at war with another tribe
But I must remember the cries of the mothers and children
Yes I heard them, with a determined look as I left the village this morning
It is in mourning for the lost of our Cheif who died in starvation
He would not eat because our village is hungry
He had the greatest Heart
For he gave his food to the children
But I cant resist it
I put my warpaint on
I dip my finger in it
And run it under my eye
I no longer sit and listen
For an Apache Warrior is now on the War path
After I kill my enemy
I will take his horse and feed the hungry
I send out my thanks to The Great Spirit for this day
I'm so happy because a horse will feed more than a deer
Great Spirit i love you my Cheif is honored
So I set aside my bow, and instantly in my hand is my Tomahawk
I love to stalk 'em before I chop 'em up
daddy why she said
well i lied
the decievinq sun
shines liqht onto her torn pocket sack
just five pennies
pressinq aqainst the pain in her chest
chokinq passion all over aqain
more of this
more of that
more televised thunder cries
more proclamations of 300 soldiers-who died
and as for this last strand of life
war-comprised of strenqth; and of strife
daddy why she said
i loved the idea of a soldier so s t r o n q
but i fear new teachinqs
we were tauqht to draw in riqhte wronqs
only for the heart to explode
and then loathe
but the black door opens
death qives this family its last condolences
tears soak his wife's silk blouse
his dauqhters' dreams did as planes do
then her dreams did as her father's body did
burned to ashes
what could a cup full of memories possibly do now?
save her, solider please save her
the soldier does not come home alive
for it was already too late-yesterday....
(puttinq all politics aside, i just pray our soldiers a safe return home & if
any poet wants to add more to this poem, by all means, thank you)
I will lead you from battle,
bloodied and weary
Shivering in your new form of Being
Do not be afraid, Warrior,
You shall not waiver, you shall rise
in Glory, in Flame
Relinquish your Sword through the
Heart of the Gate
I will be your Guide,
I am your Will, your Right
Enter the Halls, sit within the Circle
We welcome you Home
in the Halls of Valhalla
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.
the soldier knows many of the 4,500 who died
in bashing Iraq,
the soldier may be one of the 32,000 who have been wounded,
or s/he may know any number of these individuals
who for 9 years spent their time
killing the 104,000 (estimated by Iraqis)
or perhaps 600,000 (Lancet estimate)
or perhaps even more civilians than that,
as estimates of over a million
come to light through further studies,
not to mention the deaths caused by the
strangling sanctions which the empire administered upon the
between 1991 & 2003.
the soldier knows that the american embassy in Iraq
will NEVER EVER be gone &
that it is the largest in the world---
the soldier knows that the oil companies have been
feeding on the land since the first green light
like vultures tearing apart a carcass---
the soldier also knows that the contractors
who have been getting paid more than him/her
since the get-go
are flooding into Iraq
like it was going out of style
as s/he goes home for a short time
before they are called up again
to go to Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran or
to bash bash bash the world into a bloody pulp
and over the “holidays”
the same soldier can discuss with their veteran relatives
from the Vietnam police action
just how great the empire is that they live in,
knowing first hand
better than anyone
just how far its greedy bloody talons can stretch---
then in tandem
they can all shove their fingers down their throats
to vomit up all that disgust again
because it never goes away.
On the Wall
a soldier's lament
Amid the dark of night when drunks
Cease their raucous noise
Murky dews come once again
Upon the wall of stone
Standing in doorways shadow
Hearing Earth in its turning
and aging timbers in their moan
I sense the rose petal hue of dawn
Peek its eye on the edge of a mourning sky
I will to survive another night so that my bones
Might embrace again the warm before I die
The watching having been worth the while
My tour of duty over, I could then go home.
('They also serve, who stand and wait'.)
They call me a soldier Said I was brave
As they raised their hand to their hat and saluted me
Oh I always try to remember that the reason I do what I do today
Is for the red white and blue,
Just watching our flag fly high in the sky
, Should remind us Americans to be strong,
In a country where right is sometimes wrong,
Yes they call me a soldier but
Sometimes I feel unworthy of such a great honor
Because the red white and blue should mean happyiness
For me and for you
But sometimes all I see,
Is the sadness and tears that pour from the eyes of our Americans,
Making me wish I could just sit down and cry
But I am a soldier and I know I have support in my life,
And I have to be strong, for my country,
For my family and yours,
Oh they call me a soldier,
Said I was brave but deep down inside its not like that,
No- I tremble with fear too,
Yet they still raise their hand and solute me
And say they are proud of me and I should be too,
But I just stand here fighting back tears,
As I stand looking at the Colorado mountains,
That is filled with Fire, Smoke and ash,
It is just so sad.
Yes they call me a soldier, and say I’m a hero,
But what they don’t know is I don’t see myself like that at all,
But I stand here proud to be an American soldier,
And when they raise their hand to solute me,
I think of the red white and blue and what it means to me
I think of America,
So they can call me a solider
And say I am brave or something like that,
I will just keep watching our flag fly high in the sky,
Hoping it remind us Americans to be strong
Knowing we have someone to lean on
Yes they call me a soldier.
If you ever heard of this story
If you ever felt the presence of a stranger
If his words were soft and kind
And you could see him smiling in his eyes
Lookout and be careful
The eyes are not the window of the soul
Nor are words as innocent
As you may take them
By crafty words men will deceive you
And for the lack of knowledge you will perish
Yes men will try to outfox you
Because it takes a fox to catch a fox
Men watch for me
Lookout I am coming
Just wait a minute
I’ll be right there
No wait maybe tomorrow
If I ain’t too busy
I’m sorry I had a lot to do today
Please be patient
Don’t worry my word is good
I’m not like those who speak with a double tongue
Think about the missions we’ve been through together
I have always treated you with mercy
Have I not?
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.
Letter To Our Heroes
Sons of America, heroes all,
Stand strong - stand tall!
For the love of God and country
made you answer the patriotic call.
We know you are exceptionally brave
and we are proud to call you our own.
Deployed to strange lands,
you leave behind loving mothers, children, and wives,
facing many great dangers,
as you try your best to survive.
Happy memories of your childhood days
seem to be far away in a distant past.
But please do not be discouraged;
let God be your guide,
and He will surely see you through.
While I pray for my grandson who is your comrade,
I also pray for all of you soldiers far away from home -
for those Missing in Action and those in captivity,
for all the “Unknowns,”
for those who cannot say “God have mercy,”
for all who are torn
and devastated by the cruelty of war,
terrorism and other distressing calamities.
May the Holy Spirit of God be with you,
as we hope and pray that one day,
you will all return safely to us,
who will never stop loving you!
Submitted to contest sponsored by Mystic Rose
The tap is never dry, and the
truth is seldom shown, but soldier on
dear fighter, soldier on my lover and my
beast. Here there is something solid to push off from.
I saw a purple light and a biology teacher pulsing in erogenous bliss,
here I saw a fool.
oh, you should have seen it. It
was wondrous. Not just the sex, but the sharing of minds and thoughts. No, I
will not say it was love, because... it just wasn't.
We. Ate. Toghether
like husband and wife, but our genitals talked in lieu of our mouths. Do not see this as
vulgar, untouchable in itself. We smoked a joint and
saw all the pain/sensation/revelation/joy that we sought.
Pie is squared. Rest.
i am a soldier i fight every day
i am a soldier i but still i fall on my knees and pray
standing here with my rifle in hand
the blasts go off, yet here i stand
hit once in the chest
and once in the back
i will never fall unless only to pray.
i look to my right and there i see
Jesus the Messiah looking back at me
arms raised, palms to the sky
he lets me know i will not die
"be calm my son for you are safe"
i say to him in a shaky tone
"but all i feel is nothing but hate"
he tells me again, "worry not
stay calm, keep your eyes to the skies above"
i nod as an answer to him
i look up and see only a patch of blue
"do you see the good in this place of bad?
when i count to three you will wake up in bed"
"Father i'm asleep, this hell is just a dream?"
he nods and says
i wake up and gasp clasping my hands
looking up to the sky
to be praying again
i can still see the intense love in his eyes
i understand now that i heard no lies...
i am a soldier i fight every day
i am a soldier but still i fall on my knees and pray.
She sits by a dying hearth, an album open in her lap
The cold silent room startles like a slap
Mouldy images stare back from the past
Prints are all she has now
Memories that still cling
To the old Silverfish ravaged photographs
Like slips pegged to a line, flailing in a gale
One minute they’re there, the next they are only an apparition
Burnt to a retina searching the void, of a memory long forgotten
Her finger now rests upon the “rising sun” of the AIF
Of her son’s slouch hat, to which casts a shadow
Across a face too young to shave
Only but a boy, learning how to behave
In a moment etched in time
Yet those moments before it
Remain immortalised within her precious album
And those that came after
Lay buried in the Somme
He leans on a stool, one hand in his lap
The other supporting his shouldered rifle strap
His mouth blurred delivering a sentence
She closes her eyes, with thoughts of his independence
Sifting through the years of a boy in this room
Searching for his laugh through a cheeky grin
Probing for those silvery words etched in gelatine
Of a boy leaning on a stool, a conversation frozen
A mother’s memory of her son, reduced to yellowed images
A mother's loss between these pages
Shreds of the past fog the room
Pieces of a boy lay mute,
Within her reach
Creases form on her brow, a tear escapes
The memory slips, it flaps uselessly from the line
And hangs by a thread
Then it’s gone…
AIF = Australian Imperial Force (1914 – 1918)
Rising Sun = AIF Insignia
Isaiah Zerbst’s Poetry Contest – Pick a Title
23 Oct. 2014
The chill of morning sweeps the streets of Whitehall.
Rain falls like tears from the sky onto the Cenotaph stone.
I fear the sight of his name, should the pain make me fall,
Amongst the crowd I stand here alone
No loving words to give me hope,
No letterbox clatter with joy renew.
So in memories past I sit and study,
The pain of loss is deep for you.
As I lay here in the silence, I wonder how much father knows,
About this nightmare and the darkness that surrounds me.
These are the demons that haunt my mind,
Longing for death to set me free.
No 10 gun salute to make my father proud.
Death has taken my ID tag, my title and my name.
Would my father disown me?
The thought drives me insane!
In the deafening silence,
I cling on as hope slips away.
No news of my son,
Tortures every day.
I hear his voice in the darkness of night,
His image floats above my bed.
The boy I sent off to make me proud,
Does he lie among the unknown dead?
My senses are shattered, body battered, my sight is gone,
My head drums out an S. O. S thumping on death’s door.
If only a loving touch could soothe me,
Oh, to see my father once more!
To be able to look upon your face,
To be a family once more.
When we have always been true and faithful,
Why must God allow the horror of war!
OH PLEASE GOD!
Oh please God!
HAMMER SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES
Entangled we are in wars – gritty nails beneath a ruthless -------------------Hammer
Time swaps bombs and guns, retires its rusty-------------------Swords
Spares its armies face to face encounters
But blood finds its way to sit uneasy on a warrior's mind.
As hapless Foes plead prayers that flow-------------------Into
A World Heart beating without Conscience--
Soldiers begging to return their bloody hands --this Spring-- to bless'ed -------Plowshares
( A promised world of Peace according to the prophet Isaiah)
They answered the call,
From afar, they came one and all.
Young Lions, they came to give chase,
On the fields of Europe, enemies they faced.
Murderous fire rained down as they came ashore,
Thousands lay down, their lives were no more.
Fields soaked in blood, of both friend and foe,
The young men died as they fought toe to toe.
Streets were covered with rubble and blood,
Places where houses and folk once stood.
Blasted by shells from tank and plane
Many died there, never to rise again.
This hateful time of war with it's tragic waste,
How long will it run this terrible disgrace.
Is war here forever? Are we doomed to fight?
Men & boys in their fear, die, both day & night.
Kill or be killed, you hear them say,
Kill or be killed, just to last out the day.
That boy over there, shooting at you,
Cries for his Mother, just like you do too.
Oh please stop the carnage we see through the dust,
Lay down your arms, say enough is enough
Let quiet descend on the killing ground,
With a tear filled cry let peace be crowned
My Centenary poem for the Fallen in War 1914-2014
© Dave Timperley October 2014
He was seized with an obsession,
it wasn't like balsam to his hurt feelings,
and his body has been waisted by the long illness.
The streets were bedecked with flags,
and the soldier declared himself innocent.
It was only then that they realized the gravity of the situation.
A constitutional government,it's bad policy to beat him.
There was a munition shortage and wet weather gets me down.
That gloomy old house is dying as the dove of peace patronize,
The piney slopes were covered with snow and red spots,
as the light fell on her face,before wolves torn it to pieces.
The soldier showed signs of distress,i was astonished at the news.
By midday he had sold out and left for his village.
Bury the hatchet,soldier !! The place is Godforsaken.
I had a sudden pain in the stomach.
Change of speed.
They put their lives on the line
because they choose to
so they can protect us
and so we can be free
is why our eagle soars
is why we say the pledge
is why we have
and the BLUE
they were away from their families
yet, they never gave up
they stood tall and strong
and risked everything
for our country
for our freedom
thank a soldier
let them know that they are appreciated
for their bravery and service.
Two torn halves a battling,
Cannon shots be heard,
For war rages on forward,
Day and night, no respite to be found,
Hands betraying, a gun no longer safe in hand,
Fear that claws at the weary soldier,
Before he takes a life,
He prays with tears and begs for love,
The shot he does fire,
So it is the last,
For the war has now ceased,
No side a winner,
Silence be heard,
For no other ever witnessed this war.
The first day of war is the last day of peace
The leaders serve not like ladders anymore
They turn to feathers
And fly away
Because they are the land lords of the nation
The tenants now bear the penance
War is just three alphabets
But can make a tall tree historic round the world
Where there’s war
And there’s deformation
Those who are not informed about set bombs,
They get deformed
Some may not be able to perform anymore
Some may die
Some may lie critically ill
The tyrants won’t stop the war
They are the one
They can change the signal
To stop the scandal
I can see
The fighters are tired
They want to retire
But who will stop the war
Hey you tyrant
It’s time for retirement
Weapon is the subject
On a sunny day
On a beautiful ‘MTN’-yellow Day
On a dark night
You don’t need light
You stay tight
Ready to fight,
You hide in agility
When you think the war is over
It just begun
See amoured car in the boulevard
Who is safe?
I guess none
What is war?
War is when one is killed
Two are killed
Mother and father die
The murders fly away like they have feathers
Shading of blood everywhere
Oh! My God
A king handles a gun
No matter how thin a slave looks, he handles a gun
They need people to fight
Who are they?
Just say yes,
And you are sent to the war front
He who is in the war front
Knows he’s dying at anytime
But a strong soldier stays
A strong soldier is looking forward to vanquishing his enemies
And a strong soldier is looking forward to saving his people from shame of defeat
Oh! What a brave soldier
When there’s nothing close to you,
Your gun is right beside
Always ready to pull the trigger
Chei! What war can cause
War keeps one restless
What a great stress that can cause a distress
Oh my mistress
Don’t vex when you miss me
Am in the war front
But I assure you one thing
I am coming back because I am a great soldier
Feel sober always expect me knocking
War could be fun
But when you’re not prepared
You can’t prevail
Go and prepare
For you to prevail
The fun of war lies on the winning days
A good or smart soldier fight his way out without injury,
And a great soldier is rushed to therapy
Where is the wound that war gave you?
Ambush is the ambition of the gorillas
I sit, staring out my window.
This wonderous world surrounding me,
the snow that falls and the stars that sparkle.
I look around wondering if I've fallen into a dream.
Each individual flake, an own personality.
I stand slowly to stretch and realize I am cold.
How many times have a stared out at the world?
Felt no ones warm touch upon my cheek?
I smile, saddened but spirits and head held high.
My time will come, the end will start.
This wonderous world surrounding me.
Slowly turning in circles staring up at the flakes that want to consume me.
I laugh, for I have never felt this free.
Ten soldiers walk past me, carrying rifles.
I stop to look, my blood running cold.
A little child having stolen a loaf of bread quivering where he stands.
Our world filled with hatred and war.
There is an ugly red stain in where he stood.
It seeps to the earth slowly, bringing forth life.
An innocent little child having not been gifted,
only taking which was not granted.
Which was needed.
A tear slips from my eyes, and freezes upon my cheek.
I am turned and sheltered my face hidden within his chest.
My own soldier protecting me from unfair and unjust acts within the world.
He had not been gifted, nor granted such a simple thing as someone's warm touch.
This wonderous world surrounding me.
Harshed words upon the wind.
My soldier stares at the stain,
I can feel his pain in the harsh grip of his hands around my figure.
The ridged stance of wanting to protect and to feel for himself.
This world isnt meant for such destruction.
I stand apart slightly from my soldier, and simply take his hand.
I will grant him the touch of warmth when the wind steals that from us.
If only the world saw our need for simplicity.
A world filled with love, instead of hate.
Wearing this green
Wearing this green
Requires an understanding
Of death, of war, of life
Wearing this green
This olive drab
Now caked with dirt and sweat and adrenalin
Means watching his 6, while he scopes out our 12
Wearing this green
duty & sacrifice
Leaving my old Self behind to fight their battles
Maybe in vain, even meaningless
But maybe in acceptance of the never ending nature
Of human kind
**Dedicated to Vietnam Vets and everyone who has served or is still serving**
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>
We the redeemed were sitting together amongst a celestial
crowd whom had gathered outside the front of the main castle.
Pavilions had been set up, benches had been erected
for the massive crowds to sit on. Beverage carts were plentiful
yet all the drinks were free. Fresh baked pretzels with sides of
cheese, fresh picked apples and other fruit from the citrus trees
were in abundant supply for a bite to eat. No more shuffling around
in one's pockets to find some loose change to pay the attendants
working the booths of fare.
We all had settled down as the King who was seated with His immediate
court, gestured for the Royal Story Teller to begin this day's tale;
now there would be many more such joyous, warm occasions.
"Listen, listen now," the bearer began. "Listen as I tell the tale of
the Old Glory Knights, the sons and daughters of His Majesty's
Whether these Knights rode upon horses that crossed the lands,
or rode inside the grand iron horses beneath the Earth's oceans,
or flew upon the winged horses of the wind... we owe the greatest debt,
and the deepest layers of gratitude as they were obedient to the
call and out realm's worthiest cause; the cause was to get the word
out that our Highest King was coming to possess His lands, to save His people
from sin and death because all belongs to Him, to our fair and our most Beloved.
So now we are here to thank the states of the red, white and blue, the military for having sacrificed your lives for your country, for the larger picture of God.
There would have been more dire straights without you.
You kept Old Glory's dreams, its blessed flag alive, waving strong in
the winds of change, of the life yet to come.
Freedom which was left in your care was more priceless than any
gold and sparkled more than any gem, its beauty so full.
Because of your sacrifice we were able to sleep safely and even soundly
during many of the midnight hours.
It is so sad to think that Satan had so many in his control,
his command, his human puppets, soldiers didn't understand the
ugliness of hell was so clearly with them.
Ugliness with no regard to the peace of our one true God, yes
I'll even say it Jesus Christ our Lord.
Ugliness in regards with too much anger and possessing non progressive
ways, no patience for enlightenment of the people who were all
learning to follow the Truth, the Life and the Way.
(to be continued - Old Glory Knights part II)
They wear their boots
For over 234 years, they have worn their boots.
They walked the mud of bunker hill
The snow of Gettysburg.
Through the valleys of Italy and France.
They wear their boots with pride across the world.
Each American in their own boots they do march..
They shine those boots to march down the main street.
With their heads all high and tall.
The American soldier fills those boots they wear.
Blood sweat and yes tears drops fall on these boots.
But they are worn with freedom they do design
Each soldier wants to die with their boots of freedom on
Over the rampant seas
Clouds opening to reveal
The armies mustering
Preparing for death and decimation
They march steadily forward
Into the maws of
As those they love
Unblinking as the sun rises.
Always thinking before venturing.
Falling through the lines of a cornfield.
Starting in front of the Battlefield.
Crying into the night as a lost soul.
Fighting for their goal.
To unite all in the peace that surpasses.
To keep a vigil on a hill that rises.
To the flickering of a candle lighting.
This is a special case to many.
Most of whom are unknown to us.
Most share in the common goal.
What could it be.
What drives them forward.
What keeps them true.
What keeps them brave.
Helps us see into our selves.
Keeps our young in a loving embrace.
Keeps our people united.
Brings in Peace throughout what.
The only answer "US".
Everyone in the world today.
Everyone to come to live here.
The entire Universe that awaits.
Keep the hope, love, and faith.
Without that then all is waist.
Now go on and let not you be lost.
This goes to all the people.
All the nations of the world.
But most of all this goes to the Soldier.
May the higher power be with you.
This is also for those of 9/11.
I felt his breath leave the battle field
as bayonet pierced his heart.
The surprise of death lay in his eyes
his blood poured warmth upon my hands,
anointing my soul with his.
His flow of life will find the earth
to merge with victims past
and another ghost will follow me,
shouting for my demise.
This lowly man who took the shilling
as Judas took his thirty,
now looks across this no man’s land
for this corruption belongs to me.
Beneath this mud
lies the dreams of men
the commandments of life,
now lost within these decaying bones
for this war has silenced them.
And up above heaven receives
the righteous who take their place,
but the blood of my victims
are now a moat
and I would surely drown.
The dreams I have taken
will guard the gates
while angels turn their back to me.
I am the soldier who orchestrates the kill
my sins can wait in heaven.
The Holy Ghost can watch his time
for I am Lord this day.
It takes a soldier to humble the gods
for their power lies with me
a solitary man who has done his duty.
So God, send your laurels to me.
I am one of millions
Destined to be forgotten
But men were born with tears
our tears will match
any storm that you can send
For we are the battle
and death is our destiny
We who feed this barrage of blood
now fear the morning mist rise?
For this grey belongs to dead men’s dreams,
their sweet stench a reminder
of what’s to come.
For tomorrow, I will be one of them.
Bury me deep
God must not find me
Anonymity will be my peace
will remember me.
No regard to that precious gift of life, no regard for that all
encompassing love and mercy, nor were they good stewards,
keepers of the lands, air or water.
I pray this equation turns around favorably, but in the meantime,
to my American Brothers and Sisters during now and in this world,
before my spoken prayer manifests: I say to you we are with you
in battle, a spiritual battle, the ultimate spiritual quest. We are
even in this battle with our Royal Sister named Israel, which
contains the world's capital, soon to be the New Jerusalem the
place where Heaven meets and marries Earth. Along with our
Christian family, those around the world who value peace, wisdom
and the Ancient of Days as much as we do. I decree for our troops
the protection of Jesus, the love of God, the fighting power of
Heaven's angels to fight loyally along side of you... as our Lord has
all in His Hands, and His Kingdom comes and His Will is indeed
being done. May God Bless you and keep you!!!
and my heartfelt THANK YOU!
Time just floats by like dead bodies of victims hands sway 12 6 10 3
Insanity fabricated imagination crazy dancing throw my soul to the tree
Crashing all the ideas flowing out of my head im certain im dying from the impact
Something lovely and distracting would make great company like the fact of contact
Coming out hold the wisdom from a dream with words the intruder exit
Like murderous vengeance crawling under the dying light I cant fix it
I pull the knife out the bullets countless holes dragging pieces of you away
Mortality crashing into my heart darkness there lifeless hands touching my face
Medicated and drowning its okay that Im choking I cant breathe and im alright with that
The pain lets me know im alive and I can try I can try again I awkwardly bend and
We the redeemed were sitting together amongst a celestial crowd whom had gathered outside the front of the main castle. Pavilions had been set up, benches had been erected for the massive crowds to sit on.
We all had settled down as the King who was seated with His immediate court, gestured for the Royal Story Teller to begin this day's tale; now there would be many more such joyous, warm occasions. The bearer began. "Listen as I tell the tale of the Old Glory Knights, the sons and daughters of His Majesty's thunder.
Whether these knights rode upon horses that crossed the lands, or rode inside the grand iron horses beneath the Earth's oceans, or flew upon the winged horses of the wind... we owe the greatest debt, and the deepest layers of gratitude as they were obedient to the call and our realm's worthiest cause; the cause was to get the word out that our Highest King was coming to possess His lands, to save His people from sin and death because all belongs to Him, to our fair and our most Beloved.
So now we are here to thank the states of the red, white, and blue, the military for having sacrificed your lives for your country, for the larger picture of God. There would have been more dire straights without you. You kept Old Glory's dream, its blessed flag alive, waving strong in the winds of change, of the life yet to come. Freedom which was left in your care was more priceless than gold and sparkled more than any gem, its beauty so full.
Because of your sacrifice we were able to sleep safely and even soundly during many of the midnight hours.
It is so sad to think that Satan had so many in his control, his command; his human puppets, soldiers didn't understand the the ugliness of hell was so clearly with them.
Ugliness with no regard to the peace of our one true God, yes I'll even say it our Lord Jesus Christ.
Ugliness in regards for having not enough patience for the enlightenment of the people who were learning to follow the Truth, the Life and the Way. No regard to that precious gift of life. I must keep this tale short due to lack of space."
Outside of this prayer vision of manifest destiny I decree to you in meantime to our American troops, the protection of Jesus, the love of God, the fighting power of Heaven's angels to loyally fight along side you as our Lord has all in His Hands, and His Kingdom comes, and His Will is indeed being done... May God Bless you and Keep you !!! my heartfelt THANK YOU !!!!
I am older now, my
body creaks, but it
As if it happened
Walking through Camp
37, east of Dresden
Hang like a wash of
Rusted razor wire,
empty guard towers.
Sentinels to times
past, a reminder
Snow crunches like
under my feet.
Forty cabins, dark
Sweet pine scents
the cold air
My old bunk is bare
Etched messages in
wood, still there.
Freedom in dreams,
shattered when you
But my thoughts are
Tea time was the
best, no cream
Tattered Red Cross
packages, tastes of
Hopes for tomorrow
At Armageddon's end,
I remember it well.
Fatal game that they play
Rerunning in mind
Like vinyl stuck on replay
They tell of a story
Many years ago
A little girl
Wounded by the evil world
Found by a soldier to save her soul
From bright vibrant colour
Happiness And warmth
The story suddenly all turned to red
To words etched on skin
Forever to remain
Serenades to swearing
Trust to tussling
Always to never
Love to loathing
She gave up her all
Just to fight for something
Long Left for dead in the cold
One sided tug off war
To end in mud
Conceived in blood
Still she begged for more
Tried to be perfect
Yes she did
Stopped eating for times on end
Ran till her lungs bled
Still the soldier turned his head
She tried to stand
On own two feet
Little did she know she was
Amputee of lust
This soldier did
Of little girls' world
He owned her
Like a deer head trophy
She fell again
Trying to fix
What shattered so long ago
With bleeding raw fingers
She traced his face
Hoping he would
Would change his ways
The Soldier broke his promises
To always keep her safe
Because his other trophies
Got 1st place
Again she tried to repair
All the damages he left
Seeming so strong
Praised on her progress
Little girl was
But inside her mind
Was her true demise
She couldn't let go of soldier
Yet he let her fall
She couldn't leave him to his own
Yet he abandoned her so many
She felt compelled to be his
Yet he refused to be hers
Ignorance is bliss they say
But what about knowing the truth
And staring the other way?
Carefully placed back in crooked
The glass shards of her life
With pieces still gone
The red seeps through
What cannot be said
The big eyed terrified truth.
Preach to the full moon soldier
It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder
Mother has child that father denies
Leaves when his baby lets out those first cries
Excuses flying, lies sailing; words without care
Feelings are complicated so share you don't dare
Lips that smile hold some bruises and a cut
Hands that have done the damage slam the door shut
You watch him out the window glass
Retreating figure gone at last
Preach to the full moon soldier
It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder
Things get harder, mothers fired
Baby is toddler and much too tired
Money is in short supply
If only father would just comply
To help raise his growing kid
Instead he ran and lost his bid
A single tear stains the cheek
Of a mother's soul who's much too weak
Preach to the full moon soldier
It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder
Mothers dead, everything's blown
Toddler is small child left alone
Father drunk, stumbling back
Custody left to this piece of slack
Days are long and too far gone
Nights are worse, he's never done
Talking his beer scented words speaking
He says to his child be kind, PREACHING
Preach to the full moon soldier
It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder
Small child has developed
Distinguished individual moving up
Swearing to the sky blue
They will be nothing like you
Father in jail thief from the night
Cell lit dimly with pal moonlight
A smile to the grown child
A tear from the man of the wild
Preach to the full moon soldier
It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder
Every man has a mission
To carry out the orders of the commanding officer
What will be the plan after this war is over?
Shall we begin anew?
Can we place this ugly Godforsaken place behind us?
We all have a past
We all have families to return home to
What will be the condition of their hearts?
Will they really care what I have been through?
It has been a pure living hell for me out on this battlefield
Jumping from the hull of this vast B29 flying through the darkness
Landing in a place that isn’t even to be found on my map
My compass has gone haywire and the arrow is broken
My heart broken too as I try to piece this ugly war together
Who am I shooting at anyways?
Isn’t he my brother?
Aren’t we all just children of the same God?
How did we get here in the middle of this pasture?
And how in the hell am I gonna find my way home?
My wife’s heart is torn
My infant son doesn’t even know what I look like
And I haven’t written a check in over 48 months
Who am I now?
Just a weary worn soldier
Help me get out of this place God, and give me a new plan
A new directive
A new path to heal this broken heart
I just want to get out of here alive and make it home to my family
Once I arrive I will await a new set of plans
Starting anew with great anticipation
My parachute unhitched as I descend upon the beach
Bring me home soon, God
May this nightmare called war be behind me ever so quickly
I need a ticket home and I need it now!
Breakfast with a ghost
Early on morning traveling down I-77
I saw a young soldier in uniform.
I stop to choose pick him up.
We talked a awhile he spoke of the war.
How he lost so many friends.
We parked in the dinner. I ran in to get something to eat.
When I return to the truck.He finished his story.
He said that he loved America. And the freedom it stands for.
How he fought for each American.
He then told me this was his exit.
So I stopped. He said thanks to my friend
I said no thanks you my hero.
For fighting for me.
I drove off and I looked back and he was gone.
I thought I just had breakfast with a hero ghost.
There is no pain
that is unaccompanied
by light blinding
or translucent like seeing
the sun through a flame or another's petite morte
as you climax,
and heap in rubbled bodies,
others cast in panoptic stone
by the suffocating beauty of the soldiered
They cry, cry out in ineffable joy at the sky
or lips fall heavy to the dust
as they climax,
and entwined in fervent bodies
we all come to know what makes us bare another
sadness swaddled in marble arms.
Awaken to the of birds chirping; the sound of peace,
All strife has passed and all war has ceased...
A massive tension has been released
Every man, woman, and child out of the belly of the beast
And now they are at the dinner table, ready to feast
All enemies have deceased and that is a cause for celebration
People all over the world shouting, "Yes, we made it!"
On the streets there is no more chaos, everyone is flagrant
Everyone has patience and virtue there is no such thing as hatred
No one has to die because of the position in which they've been placed in
Everyone got along and every moment was sacred; no time wasted
Every teenager respected their curfew...
They could safely go to the beach during Spring Break vacation
Every teenager had a father that installed virtues; not just hatred
No child ever had to go through a storm of a
divorce case; it's not blatant
Caught up in the collateral damage; it has been erased
Every kid in school love one another and no on was disgraced
Because of their race, or the place that they stay in; equal locations
No kid starved while rappers are talkin' bout cars and ballin';
Every kid had parents that would hear them when they're calling
No kid every had to dive into a pit of despair because of the color of their
Or the decision or the attraction to a same sex gender
Every single person in the world were kind and they cared
No murders occur on the surface of this turf; nobody was scared
Girls could wear whatever they wanted without feeling so bare
That kid over is not plotting to grab her by the hair; the epitome of fear
Never existed in the hearts of the parents
They don't have to worry about their kids being reckless
No worrying about, "how the hek did he get that neckless)
Every kid had a checklist that didn't consist of getting pregnant
No one had to stay wearing that hairnet because everyone had a return
on an investment
No need for government because everyone had good intentions
There was no need for police and people could smoke weed in the streets
Celebrating life no need for malicious greed
No gang bangers poppin' off on the cops and blockin' shots
With a mother of a twelve year old's body; no glocks...
I'm sorry that I went so long, I gotta a lot
to say and I use these songs
“Mommy, I miss you when I'm not here.”
“Oh I miss you too Hun, You have no idea
But don't you be sad while we are apart
We’re always together, home is in the heart.
When we're not together look up at the sky
The moon you see there Is the same one as I.”
“Mommy it is ? How do you know?”
“We share the same sky, Sweet, where ever you go.
There's only one moon in that sky up above
when you miss me look up, Its filled with my love.”
That child now is grown,
A young man tall and strong
I hope I did well, maybe a thing or two wrong.
Tonight's the last night I will still have a boy
For tomorrow he flies.
My pride and joy.
Talking and laughing
Precious time we did share.
Just being together, so glad I was there.
The time flew too quickly
Just it wasn’t enough.
The moment closed in,
It was going to be tough.
“Mom, I have to report now.”
“Yes son,I know.
I’ll miss you so much.”
So hard to let go.
A hug like no other, both held on for so long.
So much pride in my son, now its time to be strong.
Staying true to his choices and knowing they’re right.
Tomorrow’s the day, a new chapter, new life.
The morning did come as it does everyday
But this one is different, he’s leaving today.
We hugged long and hard, not a single dry eye.
He was called to the plane, the hardest good bye.
I turned one last time and I gave him a smile
Didn’t know when I’d see him, would be quite awhile.
Made my way through the airport with tears flowing free
Felt both sadness and pride inside of me.
Weeks passed, not a word
How tough that was.
Wondering, worrying, that’s what a mom does.
I knew in my heart that he was alright,
and that moon helped me through many a night.
Then today came a letter, the very first one.
Couldn't wait to read it,
Hear all the things he had done.
Said he had his head shaved
Got his boots, uniform, a gun
Push ups and running
He was tired, sore when each day was done.
He's proud though and happy, good with his choice.
Miss him so much-
His smile and his voice.
At the end of that letter
Hard to read through my tears-
PS “I looked at the moon”
He remembered, all these years.
The Coming of the New Morn!
Gather around people
Wherever you are
Whether you travel
By foot, train or car
Listen dear friends
And heed that I Warn.
Tomorrow when you wake.
You will greet.
The New Morn.
When all information.
Is controlled by the state.
It won’t make any difference.
If you are early or late.
The past is history.
Today you were Born.
Rise up, stand in line,
The New Morn.
Remote control Drones
Are coming here,
New weapon systems
No pilot has to steer
Domestic spying, and killing our own
It’s the calm before the Storm.
Hold your tongue, Shut your mouth,
The New Morn.
The times are changing
So far, we’re losing the fight
Blurring the edges
Between what’s wrong and what’s right
Choosing to walk the path of peace.
Or fall in lock step, and wear the uniform
The time to choose grows ever so thin
CHOOSE NOW, or lick the boots of
The New Morn.
We’re destroying our Mother,
Poisoning the waters, wreaking havoc all over the lands.
Fukushima is radiating the seas
Big oil is fracking and drilling, and pipe-lining Tar Sands.
Monsanto has plans to patent the planet.
People spill into the streets; the nations flag is worn.
Police in riot gear,
Are there to enforce
The New Morn.
So wake up, Right Now!
Herald the new day!
A new Party has taken power,
They promise their going to stay.
Revolutions in the air
Yesterday is dead, no time to sit and Mourn.
The time is ripe for change.
In this moment it's the People's turn
To Seize the New Morn!
When the seventeen men neared the end of the bridge only one remained in
sight all the others were lost in the shadow from the moonlight. He was dressed
in tattered cloth; homespun gray, and eaten by the moth of strang decay
“No livery”, He cried “no making strides in death” “my life has ended on this
There is a plaque in place to mark this day it says on
Friday June 13, 1864 PFC Dreardon Age 14 was marking time in a prisoner
exchange at BENTON creek when he was shot by Federal Forces. The miniball
penetrated his left sleeve and took off his arm. He bled to death.
His body was torn and bleeding so forlorn the tatters of his homespun sleeve
stayed hung upon his stump of arm there.
War is something no one cares for Mr. Sherman.
MOFW 1964, June 13 Commerative
The watcher was on the water making footprints on the surface when the Federal
Forces under Sherwood marched into the History. He seldom interferes with
history but makes the markers seem to be the truth. He saw the miniball tear off
the soldiers sleeve the man had been a prisoner just released this crime is not
unpunished the man that pulled the trigger is lying in the river at the Watchers
feet. The Watcher broke his prime directive and almost gleefully erected the
YANKEE soldier in the mud.
A Watcher is no more A Watcher for when he acted he lost his power over water
and he stands upon the battlements no longer but He is tearless in his vigil of
Every Friday on the 13th of the Month of JUNE of every year that has its ending in
a FOUR, he gives a shudder of relief certain that his judgment has not been
The rebel soldier gives a rebel yell and leaves the bridge.
The Yankee minion that has shot him just turns over once and lies back in the
mud. For this is judgment.
The Watcher roars.
COLLEVILLE SUR MER
In uneasy rest
He faces west.
They all face west to America -
So far away from this beach,
So very far out of reach.
He no longer feels the chinook
Nor the glance of mother’s knowing eye
Over the range on his Utah farm.
He is the son and brother
Of Omaha, Nebraska, and the Sandhills
Beckon him home.
The tolling of the trolley
Car bell over the Bay.
Hear only the swish of beach sand.
He dreams endlessly
In the cold Channel breeze,
From the ocean
Between him and home.
Colleville sur Mer is where the American cemetery is located in France. All names on the gravestones face west.
Omaha and Utah are the names of invasion beaches on the Channel coast
of France where thousands of US soldiers died in 1944.
I teach, i fly, i write
I thought, i flew, i broke
I fell in love with paper's note
But the index did not reach its goal
I revise, evaluate, eliminate
But cursives made it red for the date
Loosen up your fear, said by the head
To spell the letters of "best" for the day
I spoke, i choke the words
The words of wisdom made the swords
Today, is the knight to tune up the chords
Of melody of the heartbeat, tension at the boards
I calm myself, but i drowned
With speechless loud sound thats in my
Ear plays around
I shout the voice of stress command
But the energy of them is so powerful
Has a strength and fully bind
I'm out, out of this place, what a maze
Let's count from one to ten,
Hope of grace
The potions are not enough for the craze
One moment, let me think...
Slay the dragons of fire earth in a case
Give them a blast of pregnant axes
Let their eyes be opened realize
Understand their wrong mistakes
And now i motivate them, Myself to have a reset
Back to zero open up the book of cerebrum
Ang again inspire them until the
Ignite your pen...
Because the pen is mightier than
the sword, word
You can find your missions
At the top of the olympus
Sometimes I dare to dream
of grasslands where
we ran free. Laughing.
Playing together before
the fall of darkness.
Singing with our brothers
the songs of children.
Happy songs. Life songs.
Sometimes I dare to dream
of my mama's face.
A smiling face. Trusting
me to tend the babies
or to go to the well
for water. Sending me
to do things for her.
Her dark eyes following.
Sometimes I dare to dream
Of sleeping in my family's hut.
Of sleeping at night instead of running
and hiding from those who would
snatch me from my family's care. The
ones who would demand I kill or be killed.
who would torture even the smallest.
Our stolen childhood their greatest joy.
Sometimes I dare to dream
of an education. Worthwhile
things to teach to the young
ones, instead of the things
I have been forced to learn.
How to live and not kill.
How to love without hate.
How to touch without shame.
Sometimes I dare to dream
that I am still just a girl
that I have never killed another
that I have never bit my lip
to keep the screams inside
as I am taken again and again
passed from soldier to soldier
as a prize they are forced to receive.
Sometimes I dare to dream
But I always wake up still
here in my war torn land
where the lives of children
are gobbled up by the twisted
souls of evil men who cherish not
the laughter of the little ones.
Who would reach into our heads
and take away even our dreams.
Yes, Sometimes, I dare to dream!
It was a hot June./ Late afternoon./ I stormed into that saloon / like a 30 men
platoon!/ The bartender says, "Gentlemen not in here." / I smiled and said, "Old man have
You wanna take this to the street?/ I can hear your racing heart beat./ How dare you
try to compete!/ Call me a poetic athlete./ I hold the title not you./ My verses are sicker
than swine flu!/ You probably never been in a fight in your life./ I'm that damn good - go
ask your wife!/ OOPS - did I mention something you didn't know?/ Someone ring the bell
it's a TKO!/ Someone call his mom./ This is going to be bloodier than Vietnam!/ What?! You
heard it through the grape vine?/ I'm a poetic fighter on the frontline!
You reap what you sow./ I slaughter any foe,/ and just in case you didn't know./ I'm
the great grandson of Edgar Allen Poe!/ So what cha think about that?/ I'll beat you with my
wiffle ball bat!/ I'm trained for combat./ Walking over poets like the bottom of a doormat!/
Someone turn down my pens thermostat!/ I think this paper is about to catch fire!/ My
words will wrap you in barbed wire!/ I will own your soul./ This pen is my pistol!/ N. C. is
where I'm from ./ My lyrics will set you ablaze like Napalm!/ Read the headline,/ I'm a
poetic soldier on the frontline!
Yes I will haunt the night./ I feel guite / comfortable on the frontline./ Call me Dr.
Frankenstein!/ A freak of nature, not of this world./ Don't talk smack/ Jack/ It's a fact I'll
take yo girl!/ A cassonova from birth./ I'm not of this earth./ I know you can't stand it./
But I was born on another planet!/ You hear my voice,/ and my weapon of choice,/ a razor
sharp scimitar!/ I can hear/ the fear/ I'm the fallen star!/ So as I drop the H-bomb/ I hop
back in my UFO./ You know where I'm from/ beyond the rainbow!/ At last you feel the teeth
of my canine!/ A poetic soldier on the frontline!!!
* This is just me venting, not written toward non of you guys...hehe
I saw a burning soldier in the sand
I couldn't tell if he was friend or foe
I just stood and watched him burn
my heart and mind accustomed though
to what would make the state side stomach churn
Mothers holding children charred
black or sometimes white
faces frozen forever pain and fright
I curse the day my heart grew hard
I still and will obey
I took the oath
I raised my hand
I saw a burning soldier in the sand
I hoped he had found peace
and turned to walk away
The world is crazy outside
She hears the gunshots outside her house
Sirens loudly down the streets
She’s sitting in the corner
Rocking back and forth
In all this chaos she watches her family
Everything around her
She goes outside and boom!
The gunshot goes through her arm
She wakes up hours later looking at a soldier
She wishes she would have died
Through all this chaos
She’s wondering what is doing there
She smiles at the soldier and says, “I should be dead”
The soldier says, “No, you should not"
She says back “Why did you rescue me?”
He replies, “Because it’s my job”
She drifts back to sleep in his arms
Next time she wakes up she’s in a hospital
All she remembers is the guy saving her from all the chaos
torrent of tear's fall , as a springtime rain
the earth quakes , rumbles , from all the pain
my chest heaves from the anguish i see
fallen leaves from the Soldier Tree
the hurt inside is'nt easy to hide
blood stained sleeves is all i find
as one leaf fall's amongst from thee
all the rest will follow thee
one loss is everybody's loss
why do these war's have to be fought ?
when did it all begin , when will it all end ?
not every good soldier get's to come home
your courage will be forever known
you are not just anybody's son or daughter
you are everybody's brave sent to slaughter
i will alway's remember the pain i see
as i watch the leaves fall........
from the Soldier Tree .
The almighty and the greatest of all
I feel so lost and I can’t stop these tears
Now that he has returned to your eternal home
Save and beautifully rest at the end of his life
I’ve never known such a kind person as him
Giving laughter in every meeting in our lives
Loving us since we were young until now we grow up
With humble love that never changed, never decayed
Yet sometimes we’re too ignorance to understand
It’s so slight of us to return his love in his elder age
We’re too self-centered with our own future
Now it’s only regret and memories that stay in our hearts
But I’m so grateful for being in his life
With his blood running in my vein & feelings we all shared
Inherited us with strong mind, humble heart and humor
I hope these qualities thoughts I can carry on in my life
In his silence, only some of us know his past life
I know he was a soldier but never thought he fought so much
So much for his country, his love and his family
He who only has one true love
Declared their love in their young age yet their love never fade
What I used to see, they never apart, everywhere always together
Like a fairytale of a love story but it’s real and I’m too amaze to see
A devoted soldier and a mother of all souls
A true love I wished I can have one too
For some time, his true love has waited him in heaven
And now he has returned to his one and only love
Together again like they used to be
Please give forgiveness for all their mistakes in their lives
Give warm and cozy place beside You
In this earth, nobody can handle the sadness from losing
But this is life and this is faith
So with this praying bead in my hand
My prayers are for them and only to them
my grandpa was an ex-KAR soldier
that was before he died
he fought in WW2 as a teenager
but the so called hero
by the ones who wrote our history
was not able to build himself a house
a story of war
must a soldier fight for what's not his?
put in a course he cannot alter?
the “rogue” soldier
one US soldier gets blamed for killing 16 civilians in
and the whole world is chattering
like they did when the qu'rans were burned---
this time, after the 16 were shot dead,
they were rounded up & set ablaze---
this time, humans were burned.
so as the media affixes Staff Sgt. Robert Bales’ head
atop a sharp stake
has this put anything in perspective?
for the idiots out there who still give a *****
about the burning of a “holy book” that has been
responsible for torment & deaths throughout history,
this should be a wake up call---
this “rogue” soldier is only one,
he is a pubic hair in comparison to the vast US military
that continues to stomp & kill,
stomp & kill,
all over the world---
yes, he was being deployed for the 4th time &
yes, that is a bunch of bullshit, if in fact the military said that they wouldn’t do it again,
correct me if i’m wrong,
but didn’t he sign the dotted line?
didn’t he agree in the very beginning to become a hired killer?
was he able to write all his own personal exceptions to the rules in the margins of the contract, in hopes that when pressed to the wall,
someone would read them & care?
the way that his “massacre” is being pursued
shows how full of *****
the whole world is,
when they disregard all of the killings that have taken place in much worse situations,
like a Vietnamese baby getting taped to the top of a broken down jeep,
surrounded by c4 & then
subsequently blown to pieces by US soldiers back in Nam,
in order to pass the time---
the examples of the US military destroying civilians across the world
are endless &
there are no “rules of war,”
despite the overwhelmingly naïve belief to the contrary---
this one hired killer
who killed like he was hired to
(kill kill kill &
kill some more),
is being held up as an example,
to pretend as if the US military has standards,
to give another shallow “i’m sorry” to the people that we have been pummeling for 10 years,
while working to cause new friction with the Taliban
so that peace will never be attained,
so that the war in Afghanistan will continue &
Lockheed Martin, Boeing & Northrop Grumman amidst others,
will continue to fuel the military-industrial complex &
when mr. hope & change condemns the soldier’s actions publicly,
he’ll get some election campaign bonus points
from those who still go into the voting booth,
thinking that it matters.
Ewe Aer Mye Destination
When the end of time rings
it comes with a bugle call.
Just like in the army
when all the fun begins.
The enemy comes to call.
The Trumpet of the ^A^ngels
will sound a ^V^ictory Sound.
All the dead shall rise
and some will live again.
This soldier gave his life
so that all his men could live.
A place inside the doorway
is where I will begin.
Just south of and outside of
Where I want to dwell
is just three feet from the door.
But Inside where the grass
is dewed on.
Where the mirror of mye soul
can come to be with me up there.
When her final battle with despair is ended.
She will have a place with me.
Iff this old soldier makes it.
So will She.
last year 462 US soldiers died in
the iraq & afghanistan wars---
in 2009, the number of those US
soldiers who committed suicide,
while not as high as last year (381),
surpassed those that died in combat &
while the geniuses in the military machine
itch their temples like chimps at a
IT conference or expo,
they have come to the brilliant conclusion that
they cannot find a
“rhyme or reason as to what kind of soldier is
it seems that as soldiers are pumped with mind-altering drugs
& being forced into combat against their will
(even though they all signed that blessed dotted line) &
as this process continues,
those that feel that they are not living a life even close to what
they signed up for,
end up a statistic along with the other “300,000 who come
back to the US with
PTSD, depression, traumatic brain injury or some combination of those”---
what the government has to offer them when they come back is
(now labeled “pschiatric”), so
how & when will these damaged individuals make their
way back into what we still call
when will these brain-wounded of the west live out the remaining days
having been sacrificed whether they wanted to avenge 9/11 or had they simply been
brought up in a military family---
regardless of the reason
they walk among the rest of us,
having been something else
having been warped by the military’s attempts to make these
humans more like
machines before machines finally
maybe the suicidal soldier is just a bit further ahead of the curve
than the rest of us,
because they have seen the truth of the matter
they have decided accordingly to check out now
before it gets inevitably
i'm a soldier in my own heart and mind
no matter how much these fools think
they have taken from me
they are dead wrong
what they have taken from me
isn't enough to bring me down
im' a soldier,not afraid of them
of what they would do to me
but i wonder now
what do they hate
is it what i do
or the soldier that i am
It is easy to spot a soldier.
Easy to choose one
out of a large crowd.
Some are obvious.
The boots, fatigues, or hat
worn eagerly by a veteran.
The regulation hair cut
also called a high and tight.
The unbreakable glasses
also know as birth control glasses
Other signs are more subtle.
The way a soldier carrys himself
is very definitive.
The air of confidence he
exudes is palbable.
The respect given to elders and superiors
is a learned trait all soldier have.
The soldier has a specific walk,
one that ticks to a rhythm,
a rhythm developed by
miles of marching.
A soldier acquires many determining habits.
All are developed rapidly in his training.
All make the person a better soldier.
All make the soldier a better person.