Best Casualty Poems
L o v e ~ a crippled nightingale
b u r n i n g in bronze tears
of tornadoes,
limping and writhing,
screaming for release,
but
what if I am the mistress
of glass-cut dreams,
crowned with
razor-edged regrets,
and splintered serenity?
Would the raven breeze
then cocoon my soul
with delicate doom,
fueled by petroleum promises,
searing in deadly flares,
as if I were destined
to be a victim of
vindictive vengeance,
torn and tainted,
chained in poisoned
strings of pearls,
a reflection of resignation,
of how kismet calligraphies
draped me in haunting ivory,
as the devil’s widow,
of when I vowed to serve
chastised chamomile,
of the night my innocence
was baptized in infected rivers,
rippling and ricocheting~
bleeding black with thorns…
O deranged twilight,
my heart aches in angst,
singing scars beneath
starless spheres,
where the moon is silenced,
eclipsed by the sun,
and the earth sighs
an unheard requiem
for the fractured skies,
stirring nocturnal feathers
to flutter and soar
in sync with the
beautiful tragedy,
while I lie in a sealed casket,
adorned with russet trinkets,
shadowed in macabre musings,
breathless and bruised,
alive, yet void of purpose
awake but sleep-walking
like an insomniac corpse
lost in the lethal gaze of life,
tracing emblems of the Valkyries,
caged between
the rising of dawn
and frozen dusk,
pondering if this is the end
of the beginning~
a cursed reincarnation,
as I see no escape
from your ill-omened grip~
a casualty of your cruelty,
I remain,
caught in the desolate
haze of h a t e…
A
person
at times can
feel like they are
a casualty
of cruelty, at least
in some small way or other.
Some attacked my early writing.
Their scathing reviews I can’t forget,
yet I persisted doing what I do.
Not letting oneself feel defeated is
the only way to continue - but
your cruelty, my love, hurt worse.
You did not want to read my
special poem, so you
threw it to the floor.
It felt like you
were stomping
on my
heart.
Who knows who are the casualties of war?
Are they the wounded, maimed, and all the dead?
Who counts the orphans, widows, those displaced?
The untold truth, a light on this can shed
I also am a casualty of war
My soul is wounded by the grief I see
The war is raging here inside my head
I am held hostage, longing to be free
Survivor guilt is ravaging my nights
The blast of bombs, a morbid wake up call
Though I'm alive, I feel so dead inside
Like those cut down by hate, I take a fall
Destructor's cravings are insatiable
The sites destroyed include those of my mind
My tears pour down with that of martyrs' blood
Like refugees, a haven I must find
A lesser casualty, yet I am one
This war is altering my very soul
I am ashamed to claim a numbered place,
Yet war affects the country as a whole
Aggressors will not stop their killing spree
The toll of death goes higher every day
Who counts the living dead, devoid of hope?
The shroud awaits the ones this war will slay
These casualties of war exceed belief,
and trauma rages on without relief
Casualty of your cruelty and lack of empathy
Is the beginning of your karma journey
What you tossed into the universe
Comes back full force as blessing or curse
Walking in another's shoes
Feeling for them as you do for you
Empathy a symphony of humanity
Put an end to selfish silver vanity
Casualty of your cruelty just may be
Loved ones you have destined with your deed
For what comes around goes around indeed
May not hit you but hits relative you see
Every veteran is a casualty
Whether it’s in body, mind or spirit.
Because War is the worst obscenity,
Ruining both General and Private.
Until War becomes an anachronism,
We’ll feel always threatened by: anarchy,
Fundamentalism, imperialism,
Terrorism, and social entropy.
So we fight because were patriotic,
Or to secure our standard of living.
Feeling traumatized and idiotic--
Since we survived, there is no forgiving.
We can’t escape our fear of “the others”
Until all men see themselves as brothers.
Yesterday was so long ago
In the past I've always been an *******
Should have lived my life differently
Now it's just to late
Should I be dead?
When is the end?
Living now with with these dripping tears
I'm empty here without you
All alone I spend my days
Rolling my head and cracking my neck
With no one, I talk to myself
They won't even try to listen anymore
They only pretend if they want something
Will never be the same again
Living without you
Till it's my last day alive
I thought it already happened
I'll never know why
I'm a casualty of love and life
Screams of doubt, sorrow
Clouds of unrest, anxiety, darkness
Torturing my soul, my dreams
Gone to a place, unknown
In the center of this horror
There were hallucinations
Illusions within the nightmare
Of this shadowed room
In the center of my feelings
War was raging within me
Cries of guilt and grief
Destroying my inner peace
Reminding me that I am weak
Like a falling autumn leaf
Nearing the end of my season
These are the moments
Glued on my memory
Wicked delusions and anguish
Spoiling my heart’s hope
Ending the sparkle of light
This is the time, the dark night
Of the soul, the dread
Attacking my serenity, my belief
With haunted traumas
Worrying, agonizing torment
In the midnight hour
Just beyond the pain
I found the agonizing fears
From failures, flaws
Feelings that are outrageous
His light, finally
Illuminated my heart
Filling up my soul with joy
My thoughts with promises
My spirit with kindness
Finally, His unconditional
Love brought me grace
Penetrating faith and thanks
For all the wonder of His ways
Assuring me that I can make it
His love, through divine intervention,
Colored my whole world
In whispers of quiet thanksgiving
Prayers of peace and tranquility
His word fills my heart, intimately
Without Him, my mind would still be
Clinging to anxiety and worry
Pain and sorrow, all the darkness
That comes from being the victim of
Manic depression, bipolar’s casualty
Thud, skid, shriek... bash!
Subject to a crash,
From audience to casualty,
Paying a futile penalty,
This unexpected political revolt,
Instantaneously uprises the search for whom to fault,
Alerting of authorities and people through news,
Help on its way as chaos builds-up and fear brews,
Shock and panic spreads, time becomes endless,
Dialling with not answer, agitated and relentless,
The seconds stretch out, unbearably grasping the phone,
Engulfed in sheer isolating fear- on the edge of the unknown,
Reality begins to turn gory and glim,
In an instant from civilian to victim,
Wishing you had stayed home instead,
As you're filtered from those that lay dead,
Contemplating distraught, confusion and regret,
This pain, shock and fear- you will never forget,
As you shed your first post-traumatic cry,
They say you're 'lucky' you didn't die,
Still amidst the debris several phones ring continuously,
Police scurry, pulling back family members searching hopelessly,
Behind the line hysterical fathers, wives, siblings... awaiting,
Whilst most mourn, pointlessly politicians are left debating...
They found him outside the hospital,
Conveniently.
How he managed to get there
All his brain was blown away now,
There he stood in the emergency room
Pronouncing simply and forevermore 'Uh.'
The heart wrenching lament of
A defeated weekend warrior.
The officer’s whistle opened the door,
the pain of mortar did greet the damned
and I did nap with death in no man’s land.
In cold of night the stretcher did wake
from peace to hell and burning pain.
These eyes will see the stars no more,
no comrades smile for me.
The darkness has won
for light has abandoned me
and my face is for others to see.
Am I alive? The pain agrees,
my hand can feel this fevered brow.
What will home think?
to only half a man
and will England still respect this man?
The sound of an angel, who talks with God,
a poor soul for sale,
could that be me?
And God condemns
that I am not worthy,
for others deserve better
than half of me.
And in my darkness
Opium’s womb enters my veins
the pain chased away by foetal claim,
while the music of war in shrapnel fragment
screams a tortured lament.
And youth will queue to die in vain
among the ranks of nightingales reign.
These deities who tend this holy fodder
grow distant with bloody rags.
My mind feels the heat of shrapnel’s breath,
the thought of box in foreign field
the feel of sun and breeze denied
and claustrophobia feeds my fear.
Lonely is the grave with no goodbye
and I do not want to die.
But god is my surgeon and he is beat,
the angel will deliver mercy
and death will get his degree.
For compassion was hers to give,
the touch of her hand
will wipe this brow.
The cold of the scissors will cut the tag
and I will join a corpse’s march
obeying the ghost of captains orders
uniting friend and foe in melting borders.
In death I will believe
and hope will leave this earth with me.
My reward is tempered by sword and cross
epitaph is poured over another loss.
And country prepares to count the cost
The drone of the letter
this paper of man
typed in halls by Vatican whores,
delivering their knock on mother’s door.
This pain of England’s son
will lie in empty bed,
silence will be hers to see.
A candle for me in winter’s light
but death will play in mother’s night.
Her tears will wash this wooden cross,
the house will cry for little boy lost
and the dog will sit with eye on door,
never to wag his tail no more.
I fall into unknown reasons
I lay wanting,needing
Convolution,soul sucked dry
Aphasia,alone within
A battered shell,augmental decay
Life slowly passes away
Debilitated to my dismay
An accidental tragedy has
lost the lives of many
Contumaciosly
The musk from last nights indulgence
still lingers and it accuses me
I have debased the family tree
Through my lost cognizance
The pain others must breath
Censoring all relations
A dissaproval of my being
The air as thick as sulpher
A cyanosis of the soul
I'm left alive to face it all
Retribution paid in full!!!
Truth as a bride left beside the altar.
Before things even start, she speaks alone,
“Face your bullies upfront or you are done.
Your words waste breath; they have already won.”
Truth invited friends her future to share,
But Cassandra's seer words coldly spurned,
Friends felt her imagination too dark,
Shaking heads with, "There is no war to spark,"
While unworldly witless woke knew no hint
Of cascades of words spoken and in print
As aid was begged in ancient Kiev,
A place seeming too distant to believe,
As leaders, beating chests for Truth, do speak,
Condemning evil war against the weak,
Providing sparse aid to signal virtue;
Funding evil strong, while smirking at Truth.
Truth is the first casualty of war.
Evil devours diplomats' fresh green deals
Which they turn trash, strewn upon the terrain -
Banana peels for each weak Chamberlain.
Truth is wisdom’s foresight before the fight
Ignored by whose delight is their own light.
Casualty of Loss
Drifting in murky waters
shadows lengthening
with sorrow’s darkness blight.
Cobwebbed remembrances
take flight, taking with it
prism’s life-light
Shades of gloom
mist yonder shores
obscuring vision, while
leeching into the life source
stagnating the living waters.
Cruel fate laps brutally
against the sands of time
while memories smother
and are swept away
on death borne
callus waves
Lifeboat sinking
with life’s bleedings
along shadowed shores.
Memorize the motor vehicle my dearest
Dropping me near the trees of your home
When I was about to kiss your lips
And your dad came by
We felt embarrassed
When I drove off
He went with him you
A gift I had gotten in my hands and never to give away
And got me warned, never to come again
Even though it was a party of all
He insisted with no sound reason at all
I had discipline to move back
Without courage and without direction
I lost the vehicle in a whirlwind of my confusion
Where I heard a sound of your name being called
To come over the minute ambulance
And identify the casualty
You had known my vehicle at so many instances
When we trained your ex-lover in the play ground
And convinced me it was your brother
It brought back the love in me though and
We made love in the valley next day
Of course you did not forget me, that’s certain
You couldn’t this be remembering unendingly
How many men have disappointed you
Because I am not in that list
So deserved I your love and care
You have chosen never to have seen me
Why should I not be among the dead I caused?
Why should I not be among the dead I caused?
Unmet expectations damage the dormant psyche,
unkept promises smother the rays of fading hope,
unkind words tear the lattice of the mangled mind.
My life turns into an urn filled with your ill feeling.
Your senses become the fast spreading wild fire,
uncontrolled, it boils the blood of intrinsic pride,
and as it flares up, it burns my gentle demeanor,
its viciousness blazes the bonhomie of bonding chords.
As the bitterness smoke billows thick and intense,
upset conscience loses the equilibrium and crashes.
Vile breath is charged with the acrimonious ashes,
while the patient facade of restraint you deface.
Your flashing eyes reveal you seethe inside,
generating an inferno of malice in your heart .
The twisted tongue spills out words so brutal,
smeared with the toxin of your malicious mind.
The scruple of sane sagacity turns into ember,
erupting out of your fuming volcanic conscience,
flows in the spreading smoke of stifling spite,
consuming the remains of reason you lose outright.
With the arcane acumen of a trickster devil,
as sordid silhouette of menace you crawl stealthily
into the quintessence of my being to suck
the ambrosia of my soul, the casualty of your cruelty.