belligerent beef-willed Barney backpedaled
barefaced backchat banter bubbling bawdy battlecry
beached beacon bearing bearish
beclouded befuddled bemouth beliefs.
People create war
Populations destroyed
Some power play
It was started at the dawn
They are slain and gunned down
Deceived, promised and conned
From the islands they belong
They are in a special unit
Never wanted to submit
When they asked to commit
To kill and aimed Sabah to take
From a beautiful woman they're named
Became known as Jabidah Massacre
One survived that said the tale
Their lives were fought honor to reclaim
They ignited the battlecry
Thousands lives stick to die
The enemies have made a try
Until today their pride is high!
I love you peace. Let's sail together. Layag Sug!
47th Anniversary, 18 March 2015, SH, Nature City.
Alfatiha to the Martyrs!
Offering from the ill departed, sweat and blood
ambition, aspiration, all scattered to dust
Those deadly fangs, death might be the ultimate price
inevitable in the name of country's pride
By the thousands, mere nightmares are condemned for life
bullet showers, raining behind enemy lines
Each spit, venom from the cavernous depths of blight
Each tear, a fallen comrade, self worth sacrifice
As for the living, those surviving chosen few
with deep wounds and battle scars as spoils from the war
so tainted that light turns into darkness in lieu
an open book that each and every one took part
When the time comes ripe enough as a coup de grace
relics from thoughts topped with chaos and mayhem
branches of outstretched paths and devouring facade
witnessed only by yesterday's ghosts with fate's whim
A snappy salute under patriotic oath
loyal to what represents three stars and a sun
a pact that nobody can divulge its own growth
on which, a tribute for the next generation
For the love of God, my family, countrymen
the very foundation of this striving nation
those who lost their lives, we do vow in silence
praying for those who stands for justice and freedom
come to join the fight?
come to stop the siege?
come to grab your country
from the dirt upon her knees?
time to learn the battlecry
it echos from my breast
shout it to the mountain tops
and fight your very best!
ut anarchy quod licentia
nos orir oriri ortus
keep it well in mind
or nay eternally in focus
ut anarchy quod licentia
nos orir oriri ortus
its the way the west was founded
its the only ending for us
BattleCry
So stirs the hearts of all, in great delight,
to raise a banner high, the march of fate;
to lead the way, where only dark of night,
might find a way to quench the thirst for hate;
Determined, each is blest to heed the call,
of self appointed leaders of the day,
the good, the bad, the dead, but butchers all,
one crowned in light, the others in decay!
To follow is the way, if wrong or right,
determined by the one who stands at last,
we glow in judgement as if Heaven might
just comprehend the end that binds us fast.
and when we see it come around once more,
all wonder is what leads us on to war?
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
i will stand above the industry
hold, surpass all infantry
ride into my battles
on a chariot of gold
rising to the gilded plain
racing through the pouring rain
holing up my mother's flag
a country lost and cold
pausing not to catch my breath
give me liberty or give me death
take me to the motherland-
my story must be told!
We will stand together what a wonderful vocation,
despite the wars and conflicts in many of our nations.
We will stand together in these our days of need,
despite a world filled with power, envy, lust and greed.
We will stand together no matter what the cost,
the battle's now beginning the victory's far from lost.
We will stand together defending all that's right,
not buckling from the pressures or being put to flight.
We will stand together and that is our decree,
despite our being barraged by endless bigotry.
We will stand together, hear our mighty battlecry;
Victory for Jesus Christ and that is not a lie!
BattleCry
So stirs the heart of man, the great delight,
to raise a banner high, the march of fate;
to lead the way, where only dark of night,
might find a way to quench the thirst for hate;
and lessor men will follow any call,
of self appointed leaders of the day,
the good, the bad, the dead, but butchers all,
one crowned in might, the other in decay!
To follow is the way, if wrong or right,
determined by the one who stands at last,
we hold this judgement, as if heaven might
just comprehend the end that binds us fast.
and when we see it come around once more,
all wonder is what leads us on to war???
ron wilson (aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet)
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