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The Memory For Which You Cannot Forget

And from the battlefield so does he emerge. Beaten blood stains his memories. Such beathy in destruction apon the devils backbone such powers converge. Bodies gather tossed into a heap. he's silent even in his thoughts. For the madness to one's self is better to keep. Dying moments at a time. the field may change death is the same. Where humans are numbers with a toll up the ladder he does climb. The honest view over shadows the ignorant few. Tortured are the memories trapped inside. Cold steel to which tonight he does confide. Blood stainded bages how they do gleam. After years of the twisted vision. No side has to be right it does seem. The blood is embedded in his very soul. No matter the side. The the memorie alone takes it's toll. Often we recall alone we regret. nightmares creep into are waking hours. So is the victem of the memory forwhich you cannot forget.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 11/16/2009 1:57:00 PM
very nice. thanks for your comment on the poem i wrote inspired by rain. this is great. keep writing.
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Date: 11/11/2009 10:25:00 AM
wow this is powerful. good job John =) xo Raiin
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Date: 11/8/2009 2:41:00 PM
Powerful images of the ugliness of war and quite a message about the way it haunts us, not only in nightmares, but in our "waking hours." Excellent work, John. Love, Carolyn
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Date: 11/8/2009 11:26:00 AM
Memories can be a horrible bedfellow that doesn't go away. You have done an interesting take on the topic. Keep writing. Sara
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things