Serried spirits walk on the wind
Paratrooper raindrops collecting courage before descent
Imbibed by your paints, tasting life in your landscape
Heart ablaze, my fantasies have been conquered
Village pillaged by an army of one
Glimmer of my eye tucked in by evening sun
Assigned to your omphalos, war drums curvet
At your touch, I evaporate into song
What they don’t tell You
What the recruiters tell you:
“Be all you can be.”
“An Army of one.”
“Fly high with the Air Force.”
“Join the Navy and see the world.”
“Be the best. Be a Marine.”
“Join the National Guard and get an education and keep your job.”
Things recruiters leave out:
Watching your friend(s) go home in body bag(s).
The dirt and sweat.
C rations, K rations, MRE’s.
PTSD, suicides, drug addiction.
Limbs lost. Traumatic brain injury.
Bloated, decomposing corpses.
Dead men, women and children.
Fear so intense you soil yourself.
Lice, sand, dust, cold, heat.
The stench of death.
Families torn apart.
Long road to rehab or death whichever comes first.
Alone I drift, a vagabond psuche, haunted by daughter's lifeblood and husband's self-exploded mind, a diseased landscape. Frantic fingers dance on the page as I conjure reason's faint glow, a desperate chainsaw whirring solace in the abyss. Bloodlust welts of fury scorch the script, a deranged catechism of hedonistic, as I shriek into the fray, my frame a torched earth, solar barren and bereft. Scum-ridden silver glares back, mocking reflections of futility, as I seethe venomous disgust, a reckoning’s reckoning, spewing forth vitriol to corrode the granite complacency. Specters of forgotten faces fragment, a ghastly kaleidoscope of doctored truths, as I screech at the echoing of a hollow existence, a funeral dirge for the self that never was. And smile at the reflection of who I am supposed to be, single-mother-effer's manifesto, don’t effing question she, you don’t have the piano fingers to come near my grace on the keys, I tie cherries with my tongue, have your berries blue by morn, my hands are a whole different story.
Sometimes I amaze even me — this is poetry!!
In mediation of my own identity, do you see an involuntary army of one?
Failed my fellowship, a downpour I need myself the most; affectionate landslides run
'Cause if rain erosion is all that matters, destruction at most may not have begun;
Incomplete confidence; me asking for anything from the world can not be undone
Consciousness is the way that my character has been branded by the sun;
So if me asking for help does surprise you or, for that matter, anyone;
My shoulders will silently continue to carry this burden alone by the ton
Admitting you were cherished to the edge of the greater; that's when I won;
Hidden in plain sight, yet it's beyond amazing how deeply you can stun
Infinity, selfishly rich, is worthless compared to a snow-day with someone
he followed my lead
obedient fool
an army of one
agreed
he is made up of many
made up of few
all within me
a need
In the hive, she is so well attended -
thousands of workers, all pleased to toil,
hundreds of soldiers keep her defended,
all for her, and her palace of soil.
But when it comes time, my queen, I'm afraid,
it will be just me bound purely to you.
No castle with servants, no knights to bade -
and I'm hardly a king; I must speak true.
I do not drink ambrosial nectar,
yet, somehow, with God's grace, I shall become:
worker, warrior, provider, protector,
merely a man, yet an army of one.
I must do it all, such pleasure to strive,
for love of my queen and fate of our hive!
24 March 2023
A SIMPLE POETRY CONTEST Poetry Contest sponsored by John lawless
I solemnly received my first toilet auger
As if it were a knight’s well-tempered sword.
It meant I’d passed my ninety-day audition,
And seemed to me a suitable reward.
And so began my tenure working maintenance
In the nasty nitty gritty of a toxic circumstance.
But I’d scored a small apartment, living duty-free,
So, it was time for starting over’s second chance.
A thousand plus apartments needed tending.
When a work ticket printed, I called dibs.
Seventy buildings built of brick and dreams.
I was privy to the skivvy in all those skeevy cribs.
I’ve encountered many silent tribal totems:
Hindu murti, Christian chi rho, Muslim script.
But no matter the religion of the trouble call,
For every useful purpose, I came suitably equipped.
There were feral cats, roaches, and bedbugs
Infesting hoarders’ floorspace wall-to-wall.
I dealt as best I could with the detritus,
But my biggest stress was over-night on-call.
While paying the price of complete independence
I may sometimes have hammered my thumb.
Though I may be a hack in the handyman trade,
I conducted my final campaign as my army of one.
And I came off a winner.
Rain never ends in the quick sand desert
It never begins either in this scorching heat
Blisters and parched lips are part of the mix
Brought on by the sun's drying effects
On lost bleached bones far from home
A lack of oxygen where no vegetation grows
You are never alone if you keep on marching
Talking to yourself in double time
There is the swirling effects of the mirage
Wavy lines seen by eyes and a mind half baked
Boots move slow, occupied by the army of one
A soul more dead than alive
Seen in the distance just over the horizon
Another afternoon illusion on the dunes arrives
Over the next heat wave bringing on doomsday
More rivers of light come down relentless
From the yellow sun on fire
Night never falls nor does a drop of water
Hell rains down from heaven as ordered
Volunteer daddy
army of one
strong when it calls for it
but also pillow soft
your everything I should have had
and everything I could ever want
Volunteer daddy
I dont know how you do it
many wouldn't even try
I gave you my heart when I was only five
you held out you arms so wide
and let me in your loving heart
I know I haven't been easy
life with me is hard
your my volunteer daddy
and im your volunteer daughter
you support me when im weak
and stand by me when im strong
you have been there for every nightmare
every scrap and break iv had
you catch me when I fall
and mend me when im broken
everytime someone says the words
daddy dad or father
your the first and only thing to enter my mind
I couldn't ask for another daddy
your my father and I will always be your daughter
When wind’s silence
heralds boundless oblivion
and the trembles of cracked earth
raise the dust of tears
dried by the boundless footfalls
of sallow flesh
When a thread of gold
brings unearthly thought
and the misconception
of suns fallen
drives foolish men to their knees
in unending tremors
An army of one
frees the air from his fingertips
and stays not his opal blade
as it bites the rotted gray necks
of kings released from their wrongful bliss
by his trembling palms
An army of one
unconstrained by nature’s volume
freed by the sin of his naivety
yet, bound by earth’s oldest secret
as the scarlet sun weeps
its bloodied tears
An army of one
his cloak worn through
by the acid blood of his deception
and his bones stilled;
the branches of a dying oak
which no longer caress the wind
We are the few and the proud.
We are an army of one.
We sometimes shout out loud,
We get things done!
We fly into skies above,
We sail the seas of blue.
We sometimes push, often shove
Doing what we need to do.
Never doubt that we are resolved,
Do not question why we go.
Since freedom is that which is involved
Our strength to all we will show.
I’m ready to take a stand under clear skies and over green fields
You will come with your army of a thousand
Ill come with my army of one
Anger and hatred leeks from your mouth like venom fire
Infecting the minds of thoughts unaware of the snake bite
But I’m the snake catcher
Ill grab you all by the head
And one by one milk the venom from your fangs till their only use is for showbiz
A massacre
Massacre thousands on green fields stand velvet red with the blood of small minded hate spiting racist pig heads
So bring your guns
Bring your knifes
Bombs
And bring your children
To witness the truth
I’m bullet proof
My legend the really arm that be the demise of your brain
Yet the light that fills your children’s eyes
Today's pain
is tomorrow's gain
My Hustle
is yesterday's struggle
High rates of death
increasing like inflation
This is a dedication
for those who died for our nation
This goes out for that father
who earns his honest living
So he joins the Army of One
& his only thoughts is killing
Thumping of a 50 Cal'
while the M4 clapping
I remember soldiers
used to prepare for a war
that will never happen
Thunderous marching by troops
about to set it off
Loud Boisterious voices
of cadence sounding off
If you don't have GOD
you better have some spritually
Everything you've seen in your nightmares
is now a reality
Fighting to live, as we live to fight
brothers in Arms, as we all unite
Forty-rounds through the chamber
the barrel hot like the sun
cold steel rips through flesh
or you can die by the gun!!!
members of teamsters
an army of one
yielding for a better tomorrow
doing the job right
assuring quality and quanitity production
year after year
Tribute To
International Workers Day
The rain marched uniformly as an army in its prime
But this was no ordinary army along too came their band
They marched with a song so calming to hear
It changed in slopes and meanders as it made its way down
They were the ones who woke you and they soon removed your frown
You sat and listened as their song changed soothing you out of sleep
One by one they marched on with their tune down the slope
They were an army never to march again but soldiered on
An army of many and army of one… purpose
It's the army that resurrects the thoughts of wartime
It's the song that tickles your mind and helps you back… to it
Hoping you will err not twice as every army on the slope has
Take a different journey hidden in the clouds of your sky
But like every soldier before down the slopes it pours
Raindrops in the night
Copyright (c) July 2006 J.R. Thomas
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