Battling the page,
Writers block at the brink.
Hemorrhage colored ink.
Rivers of ink flow,
From a massacre of words.
Stanzas of pain, grace the page,
Like of flock of olden birds.
Ballpoint swords strike:
In written catastrophe.
A stained battlefield resides,
With bloody poetry.
Copyright © Raul Moreno | Year Posted 2012
My baseball cap is my helmet and my Nike's are my boots,
My country is my hood and my colors on my flag are niether red white or blue,
My weapon of choice is my two hands,
sometimes it can be whatever when I am threatened with a great fall from my stand,
I have no general or soldiers but I have family and above all I got heart.
My battlegrounds remain in my own home and sometimes even in the local Wal-Mart.
Every inch of my hood is up for friendly fire,
Violence remains apart of life around here searching for peace is far from desire,
Everyday remains but another day someone will die,
but more importantly is that another mother, brother, sister or father will cry.
But I am a street soldier so I am prepared for anothers or worse yet my own demise,
And as a street soldier I must keep the battle in check, no not with what I see with my two eyes, but what war is really going on inside the mind,
My battles dont come from without but from within......I am a street soldier fighting through time.....
Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012
I struggled, got her words just right
as I revised for half a night.
Onto the battlefield she rode
my glorious soldier named Ode.
Her rival said - "she's much too long!"
another nagged - "..setting's all wrong."
Broken and bruised my warrior stayed
doing her job, somewhat dismayed.
Hours before the contest was done
came this brassy note, only one.
"As I read, your piece was just fine
You just skipped ev'ry other line."
Front lines were chosen, mine were not.
My Ode retreated, proud to have fought.
Humbled, she found the road back home;
the battlefield is no place to roam.
Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2013
I can use the letter s with so many s words,
I am the seventh sign supreme soldier from the reservation suburbs,
I fly like seagull in the open ocean sky supreme like an serpant eagle eating birds,
I am so solid Im siked and sipped up from the sizzy sizzurp,
I stagger until I swerve swiftly as snake in the souless society lost curbs,
life so crooked it stained with soaked blood life around death curves,
I cant believe so many lost soveriegn souls *****on they own siblings as the culture turns,
I know I am sure of being sure of what I sought to learn,
The brain with suicide can sometimes burn.
Souless savage in society I be among little certain satans, lost in circles saying "7th Sign Empire Engraving"like my own still souls of savage culture on certain colors discriminating,
But whats even worse is soul on souls hating,
Society severed in broken circles still forsaken,
Serpants searching society split in seven different groups of seven hundred seventy-two,
Forsake my Se7en and I forsake thee seven times seven fold because truth be said Im souless to you,
Se7enth Sign Supreme Solid Serene Soldier of of the sacred seven,
I say I have always said society on my word S
Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012
Drained to my very heart by our slow-paced arrival,
I wander through tasteless decor to the metal arches
Beyond which a future is unfurled.
My bag’s innards are spilled like blood in the Bible
Before the cold gaze of the armed man who marches;
He holds the key to this new world.
The mechanistic arch stands and takes quasi-sentience
Beside passport control, piercing my finely popped
Eardrums with sonic solemnity.
I am refused by technology but stagger forward hence
Into baggage claim where a suitcase pile is propped
Up like a holiday Tetris calamity.
My suitcase is soul black and with difficulty is found,
In its lucid eagerness to fasten itself a faux family;
Airports are filled with pretences.
Now we are away again, small trolley safe and sound,
On the road from snow, heat is where I plan to be.
Our intrepid journey commences...
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
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
Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2010
I do not know?
Honor is a word we use
for all that have a heart that bruised,
along with that he has a scar.
the war had taken him much to far.
Skill was his best friend.
We thought the war would never end.
Victory he had won
Because you brought our country honor my son.
The merits that you wear are beyond our share.
Life here is all for you .
because you kept our country true.
Our Freedom flys on because of all you have done.
Copyright © Jody Hughes | Year Posted 2006