The one I call sister is gone
Where can I find her
When I feel all alone
I look for her name
and something new
Her voice was my company
My foreign view
I need this feeling
A way to touch
Behind the battle lines
Both of us
My danger is only
Constant fear
After years of knowing
She disappears
Words so sweet
They satisfied
They always rang of truth
And never lied
And here I come to this address
Her absence the cause of my distress
I never thought
to have a daughter in the army
Bombs exploding,
Buildings falling
I wonder if she sleeps at night
Or listen for noises that cause great fright
O Lord, My God
If you hear
Be her shelter
Let her know we care
Every time I heard her cry
I would come barreling down the stairs
ready to square up to him,
both of us fuming on the edge of a fight.
As a child when you have yet to experience
the infinite pettiness of relationships,
right and wrong both have their pitfalls.
Parents had their cat and mouse games.
Father was a good man made weak,
worn out by doing the best he could.
Their battles were a joust,
their fighting had rules of engagement,
indistinct battle lines,
hard for a boy to figure out.
Boys and their mothers also have rules,
they agree to die for each other,
but how and when are never discussed.
Faster than two ducks
slick on the street or what
Wet on the Street or what
wet tires on a motor
Mothers on a motor
the street or what
up the come up
in up nothing hoe
in all done up
hoe says she wants to be my friend
I love that hoe too.
Help with the difference
help me understand
If there was one
day I remember
more than others
is the day of mothers
and valentines
Battle lines, battles lost
Battles the Boss
Battle Eccentric
I like to interprut
I like to get into it
rubber nuts
burning rubber up the gut
the main street gets smoked up
big thrasher what are they after
the green light
At the Factor
In the Clean Night
The road is wet and Ive
I lost my sight
I cant fight the speed
Its Heavy Baby
two tons of Gravy
Suicidal and homicidal Behavious
Hit the Gas cause
the breaks will save her x2
She aint late she,
Be there Later, riding
street in squat reliefit dont knock its a beast
It just Knocks the street
The cosmic conflict rages on
with battle lines distinctly drawn.
The good on one side is arrayed
Evil on the other parade.
Two forces battle for man’s mind
One to set free, and one to bind.
The good fights with means that are clean
While evil uses any means.
Within each mind the fight goes on
It starts the very day we’re born.
The evil side we’re prone to choose
So, most, the fight with evil lose.
Man was made for kinship with God
The evil side won him by fraud.
Friendship with God at first did sprout
Until evil injected doubt.
When evil yields its baleful fruit
The evil side blames God as brute.
Man’s blinded mind, thus harsher grows
‘Gainst God from whom, only good flows.
The crimes that blight man’s lofty dreams
and ruins his utopian schemes
reveal the nature of the fight
and makes him yearn for truth and right.
These virtues men will never find
While evil holds sway in their mind.
It's time men cease to play the fool,
Reject evil and let God rule.
I took a good look
In the mirror yesterday
While I gazed into the eyes
Of my younger self
With delight, seeing my face
Filled with fire, passion, and
Hunger again, at first glance
I was ready to take on the world
That imagine suddenly changed
Into my grandma's
Whose face and body
Showed the battle lines of life
Faults draw their battle lines,
fingers point to all and nowhere,
the powerful seize their dishonest moments.
America still has its lights on
but those lights are dead-eyed,
they stare like the painted orbs
of broken dolls.
I cannot write about this sickly ‘shinning,’
it both glares and shades my mind.
The new 'normal' is old,
both angels and devils, the meek and the bold
run to each other for answers,
but no one knows
the anger quotient of: Why?
From sea to shining sea
no one now is free.
He was vulnerable
only in the present
The past and future self-deposed
their fantasies atoned
Moments claim unto themselves
a singular refluence
Strength unnumbered past the count
—battle lines rezoned
(Dreamsleep: August, 2022)
It was the war of the cookies, battle lines were fiercely drawn
Dipped versus no dip, diagonal frosting turned on
Sprinkles versus non-sprinkles, arguments about a treat
Dipped cookies bringing in generals, all kinds of heat.
Pure breads adamantly denying that icing was any good.
Causing a huge daily skirmish in our confectionary neighborhood.
they shout from the hip
truth gets clipped
slogans exit lips
75 Years ago this day, the world held its breath
Germany finally gave way, lost its grip of death
Guns fell silent on the battle lines of grief
Soldiers on both sides cried out with relief
The war is done, going home to Mum
Going home to wives and sweethearts
Going home to children yet unseen
Going home to continue the dream
Going home to a kiss instead of a bullet
Going home to a bed instead of a billet
Going home,no more war to fight
Going home to sleep safe at night
Going home to a world at peace.
Going home.
© Dave Timperley 08/05/2020
It was on a cloudy morning
The sun restrained from bursting forth
The hordes of hell were let loosed
And the battle lines eventually drawn
The lamb that was slain
Before the foundation of the earth appeared
Being led to be slaughtered
Thirty nine cruel lashes was he given
With deep wounds and blood all over Him
A thorn of sin on His head like a crown
All for my gain
There was nothing majestic about Him
Nothing to really attract us to Him
Yet it was this pain that liberated us
From bondage to bondship with Christ
Hell to co- heirs with Christ
It was indeed your pain my gain
© Adeola Abimbola
Experts summoned
War whoops drum on
Speculation ramps up
Excitement amps up
Convoys move out
Generals air doubts
Battle lines drawn
The conflict dawns
It does not go well at all
In the end heavy losses fall
The ground reeks of sweat
The rivers unusually wet
Even the winners groan
Misery's echo moans
Need I still divulge
Only losers win the Battle
~ of the Midriff Bulge...
Battle lines drawn
Stance firm
Weapon in hand.
I step into the war zone
I'm rigid. Already defeated.
So much to see.
All the red.
I grip, I breathe, I brace.
Everything in me says turn and go. You've lost this one. No shame. Just go.
The space around me feels closed in and tight.
I take a step. One more. Apprehension. Disgust.
So much red.
Do I have a plan? Do I have an escape route?
One more step in.
I'm so close. So much red.
Head up. I forge onward.
I let out a deep war cry and face my opponent.
Effing spaghetti.
Will these dishes ever get done?
Geeze people not everything is about hearbreak
Glorious memories
Soldiers playing football
Across the battle lines
So fortunate they were
Two teams and round leather
Apocalypse as the referee
A bunch of poppies
Rosaries and prayers
Wooden cross the reward
If they were lucky
When I was a child … I got
An orange and a piece of coal
Never mind bullets and shrapnel
Stupidity is gloriously invincible
Swastikas have many disguises
Now drink your milk and eat your greens
The country needs your cannon fodder
Sleep quietly sweet child and dream
25th November 2019
the war is waged,
around me and within me,
the flavor filtered in the air, lilac,
battle lines drawn, us and them,
no middle ground,
in bloom at the fringe of a field of wild flowers, lilac,
salvos cease, aggressions abate,
as the priority of meadow usurps the importance of upheaval,
the flowers bloom.
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