Mark Paul Van Der Merwe | + Follow Poet |
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Killing Machines

Only eighteen and conscripted to the military,
no choice of mine it was the norm at this time and scary,
barely out of school and still wet behind the ear,
too young to watch an adult movie or have a beer.

Disadvantaged to study and too white to be left behind,
this I never understood till today, rightfully grew up blind,
this pain will never leave me as I walk through life,
explaining, I can’t understand myself, the past strife.

Ready to be trained to kill another nation’s child,
leaving their family with the loss and our side smiled,
dejected as I waved goodbye to my family that day,
my girlfriend was there too and my friends to stay.

To a military camp for 2 years, programed and trained,
based in Kimberley 900 Km to be mentally stained,
infantry intelligence was my involuntary military calling,
not knowing what was in store for our adult life’s stalling.

On my new bed listening to songs of memory and waiting,
corporals, sergeants screaming at youths scared, hating,
nobody knowing what or who, or how, where to show,
disconnected from family and treated like **** dough.

Moulding us into military men without feelings,
chased and forced without asking or dealings,
involuntary wearing uniforms, carrying death,
brainwashed, to march in unison, out of breath.

Bushwhacking, crawling under barbed mesh,
ripping our faces, shredding our young flesh,
many a youth destroyed mentally for gore,
but guaranteed that we were ready for war.

Your rifle is your wife; the military is your mother,
drilled into our minds and began a smother,
fired our weapons at fabricated enemy,
re-loading and then screaming with venom.

Indoctrination and mental instability forced,
not ourselves but killing machines endorsed,
spread across African borders to kill on sight,
innocent, women and child death is our right.

Many a friend made and many a friend lost,
this is for our nation, family and worth the cost,
under the impression of protecting our nation,
living off measly dehydrated and shared ration.

We the soldiers of our South African un-united nation,
proud and ready to destroy, our new minds creation,
all others were the enemy and terrorists,
to them we were the same to kill and create hero lists,

Friends and Time with family are lost forever,
memories of the past in our conscience lost never.

Copyright © Mark Paul Van Der Merwe | Year Posted 2016

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Constance La France Date: 8/30/2016 9:38:00 PM Mark, you have penned a deeply emotional poem , the only thing I would suggest is changing the Form to Rhyme as I find it too serious a poem to be couplet or even Narrative because you are telling a story, hope this helps ~ Login to Reply Mark Paul Van Der Merwe Date: 8/30/2016 11:53:00 PM Thank you for the positive input and comments - It certainly does help. Thank you, all the best your side. Mark

Phillip Garcia Date: 8/29/2016 9:32:00 AM Oh my gosh that's an incredible poem but heart wrenching. It's an experience that can be captured, I think, if you've been captured by it. Goodness that excellent. Thank you for pointing me to it Login to Reply