Best Man Of War Poems
“Sigma”
It’s a deviant world
a lone wolf finds a place to fit in;
it’s pure poetry, war
heroes dance ducksteps with the romance of it all
some rise, they return home to other meaningless battles
some fall, looking for greener grass and their God
some do not return at all
they find it better to escape
they drift off dissolving into other better or terrible worlds
it’s hard poetry, the romance of war
when you hit the revelation wall;
prayers unspoken sleep,
demons
with their promise of salvation
return
they are put to bed
roughly, like a whore
adorned in slippery satin ribbons of red
masks now removed
snow like medication breathed in
dreams like opium warm the cold veins
pierce everything
like a bayonet
shut out the din
flood an enlarged heart
with all its kintsugi cracks seeping honey and sin
smiling grimly the good humour well-hidden
heroes dream of taking the lead
the quiet broken, dimly lit pawns
avoid the gun-fire and blistering burn of noisy shadows
ptsd survivors
like voiceless poets,
sometimes rise instead
ruling deeply over outranked warriors
CandideDiderot ‘25
"...When you come home
I'll bake you a cake
Made of all their eyes
I wish you could see me
Dressed for the kill
You're my man of war
You're my man of war..."
A small group of survivors,
Heading towards the hostile planet mars,
One spaceship, one ride, no return,
Looking back to what was left of earth,
As it faded into the far distance,
Was there any hope?
For human kind,
Or did man become too intelligent,
That it destroyed itself,
Were we the lucky few or not?
What will we face?
On the red volcanic toxic planet,
Doomed before arriving?
Would we build then destroy?
Could we survive?
Freezing adverse weather,
Build airtight buildings,
Or live in caves,
Create oxygen,
Grow food! Keep warm,
Do we have enough food?
How long would we last?
Nobody new,
Quietness and speechlessness,
Darkness abounded,
Fear and dread,
As we moved through the sky,
Would mars be kind to us?
Or live up to its reputation,
Man of war!
Heading into the unknown,
Families left behind,
Loved ones were gone,
Venturing into new future,
Mars would be our new earth,
Was our only chance,
Will mars destroy us?
Or we mars.
Is there alien life forms?
Another unknown enemy,
Besides ourselves.
Wars again,
Or this time, learn peace?
Who would rule us?
Or would we be free,
Life on mars.
06/05/2016
For competition
Sponsor Brian Davey
Sky scrapers posed a gauntlet across her neon waters....
Radioactive tides their evasive in stalking horse wavelengths
Walpurgis nights preordained pentagon knife; planchette's point
Blank modern day Pompeii ? Neptune's, man of war; crimson's rabbit.
Just A Note: 6\7\2014...."Hey Baby, You Know I Love You: Your A Precious Creation
....Far Beyound Racing And This, These Man Made Things....'Sweet Dreams Baby Boy.'"
Man Of War
Ouch! Jelly fish stings;
strange alien sea creature,
translucent monster.
Portuguese-man-of-war,
knocking on the ocean's door.
Making the moon shine in the mist,
of this and that, and that and this.
The seacow and the seaweed meet,
and brush the sand off their feet.
Then sit and watch the waves roll in,
and kiss and kiss the beach's chin.
The sandbar tickles the seacow's toes,
and the white-caps dance on the seaweed's nose.
With too wildly wounded moments-
that close and open, and open and close.
Ave atque vale!
Ave atque vale!
The rest is missing,
with-in the walls.
The first-lady-in-waiting,
eternally feminine, eternally fading.
Felt his voice and nothing more,
in the desperate dunes of nevermore.
Where new fragile blues break into grays,
and the tap, tap, tapping tapestry waves.
To the faces that the wind is making,
behind the dressed-up-girl part par-taking.
Dance into this or that, or that or this,
the dripping drops, drop, and miss-
doe-see-doe here and doe-see-doe there,
spill your tears and let loose your hair.
So she cried:
tears for things,
things in dreams,
little by little,
the meaningless means.
Down under the bridge
down under the care
care for each other
care for hire
hire a trunk
hire a gown
gown for wedding
gown for party
party in a house
party in an office
office of the first lady
office of the senate
senate of the university
senate of the state
state of the nation
state of the mind
mind of the wicked
mind of the good
good to serve
good to learn
learn to read
learn to write
write a project
write a book
book of history
book of honor
honor thy mother
honor thy father
father is harsh
father is tall
tall is the pole
tall is the tree
tree of death
tree of life
life of a cat
life of a child
child is small
child is young
young in age
young in action
action of a woman
action of a man
man of war
man of dignity
dignity in silence
dignity in service
service to God
service to man
man
God.
COPYRIGHT 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
POETIC LYRICS BY THOMAS L.H. ANDRESS
STEVE JOBS..............'THE MAN!'
Stevie...Foot's-Bare...and-NAKED!
TRUTH-or-DARE!
Dearest...DO-YOU-DAREST?
It's...TRUTH-or-DARE!
STEVIE...STEVIE...it's-OUR-NAME!
STEVIE-STEVIE!
Stevie...Foot's-Bare...and-NAKED!
IT'S...TRUTH-OR-DARE!
DEAREST...DO---YOU---DAREST?
It's...TRUTH-or-DARE!
STEVIE...STEVIE...IT'S-OUR-NAME!
STEVIE-STEVIE...STOCK'S...OUR-NAME...ISN'T-IT?
STEVIE-STEVIE!
DUMB-AND-DUMBER...YOU-LOUSY...LOUT!
YOU...DOUBT-and-DOUBT...DUMB-DOUBTERS...ALL!
DUMB...AND-DUMBER-'N-DUMBEST!
DUMB-'N-NUMB...YOU'RE-ALL...NUMB-'N-DUMBER...'N-DUMBER(EST)!
There-was-a-MOUNTAIN...MAN...THERE-WAS...THIS-MOUNTAIN!
Do-YA-THINKS...THIS-'OL-ROCK...ROLLS-RIGHT?
ARE-YA...DUMBER-'N-DUMBER...OR-EST!
STEVIE...WE'RE...ALL...JUST...CRYING-CRYING...STOCK'S...SOARING-'N-SOARING!
I'M-DYING...AND-DYING...AND-JUST...JUST...CRYING-'N-CRYING!
YOU-WERE...DUMBER-'N-DUMBER...BUT-NOT-A-LYING!
WE...WE'RE...ALL...SO-SORRY...YOUR...FINGERS...WE-BURNT-'N-BURNT!
You-Had...THESE...ROYAL-BLUE...FINGERS!
AND-THE-BLUEST...AND-TRUEST-EYES!
There-was-THIS-'OL...MOUNTAIN-MAN...AND...MAN...HE
WAS-a...LIVING-LEGEND!
TIE-DYED...AND-TRUE!
FOOT-LOOSE...and-all...TOO-COOL!
FOOT-LOOSE...and-all...TOO-COOL!
THE...LEGEND...OF-STEVE...JOBS!
THE...LEGEND...OF-STEVE...JOBS!
A...GENIUS...OF-HIS-AND-OUR-TIME!
MOUNTAIN...MAN...MAN...A-MAN-OF-WAR!
A-MAN-O-WAR!
A-MAN-O-WAR!
STEVE-JOBS...LADIES-AND-GENTS!
STEVE-JOBS...LADIES-AND-GENTS!
FINI!!!
Poet's Own Notes:
A Terrific Song, "I'll take you there."
Interesting to learn that all the water on earth is all the water the earth has ever had.
That it takes thousands of years for water to complete its long journey.
It rises from the sea and lakes and ponds and rivers and puddles at the beckoning of the
sun at the beginning of each day as morning mist.
Many trillions of water molecules rising and uniting to form the clouds we see floating
above us like so many strange air ships in every shape and size beautiful and majestic
in the sun light.
Some of the heaver clouds touch the mountain tops tearing open like the titanic hitting
the ice burg only quietly and gently depositing cool refreshment for all that live below
while still other ships of mist sail away on a sea of air hopefully to replenish some
parched parcel of earth with the wet life giving bounty stored in their holds.
Still the other Man of War clouds heavy and black are moving fast with seemingly willful
recklessness and they crash and storm and deluge the already water laden land below
bloating and roiling it to destruction.
When at last down into the earth the journey continues geologically slowly now as the
water is filtered clean and once again travels on to the rivers then on to the lakes and
seas a journey of several millennia repeating again and again refreshing all life on earth.
The same water that has flowed over the world’s most majestic falls for eons of time.
The same water the dinosaurs drank. The same water the giant trees drank up even
before the dinosaurs. The same water our first ancestors drank.
Consider too that most of our body weight is water. Apparently we are not as young as
we may think.
Drink up and enjoy that glass of whisky or wine or beer or coffee or milk or juice or just
plain water secure in the knowledge that we truly are of the same stuff as the ancients.
The Middle Eastern watch
As the Zionist regime tries
To assert its territorial area
Territorial integrity now threatened
They unleash terror on their enemies
Its called the holy land but why now
In the name of all that's sacred and holy
The continuous strife and endless wars
They talk of Abrahamic faiths at loggerheads
Be it though that The Lord is a Man of War
But why is it that us humans can't coexist
Even when our religions preach peace
There are always undertones of war
Call it Jihad or a Holy war.. blood shed
Is still abominable.. when did human life
Cease to have value.. now bombs drop
Then the retaliations are organized daily
Then the entire world watches the fever
Praying the virulent middle Eastern fever
Doesn't spread into the entire region
Praying that 'The end' will not come soon..
Even so the Word asserts come soon Lord
A man of war is only complete when fulfilling a mission, he is born a leader but
he requires in his youth much guidance and direction, his duty of truth is not to
murder but to offer protection
A master of survival and of weaponry but he is deficient in the arts of betrayal and
confession, 21 shots and 6 feet down is almost always his only submission,
stare deep into his eyes still you will find no expression, but do not be fooled
within is heart is a raging flood of emotion
In a catastrophe he acts without question while most are caught at an
intersection, but take away his purpose and watch the empire swiftly transform
into recession, Angels with dirty faces the punisher persuades, the wicked can
not be saved in a world of ghosts,
Foxes with tongues that spit words of fire reign with senseless trails of blood, oh,
how quickly in battle does the fabricated legion lose its morale, and a soldier
without cause knows that what he's been fighting for is not what he thought at all,
and the one he's been following is soon to fall
I read in the news the other day,
Believe this if you can.
We should have a gingerbread person,
And not a gingerbread man.
Yes, things should now be genderless,
In order to avoid the flack,
Should anyone be offended,
When buying a gingery snack.
When it snows, don’t build a snowman,
Avoid the ladybird,
No, if you’re vexed by the gender of biscuits
I don’t think you should be heard.
If upset by a Portuguese Man of War,
Then I hope it’s because you’ve been stung.
Not because it shouldn’t be male.
Please just watch your tongue.
So sheep must be feminine,
According to your rule.
Or maybe they’re just sheep after all,
And you’re really just a fool?
Do you avoid mannequins?
Their manly name make you sad?
Or do you try not to be happy,
For a male is contained in ‘glad’?
Manchester must surely be added,
To your list of masculine foes.
But it also contains ‘chest’,
And we all have one of those.
In this scary world of ours,
With so many keen to divide.
We must choose our battles wisely,
And then fight them with pride.
We must support those who need us,
Targeted for who they are.
For their race, religion or who they love,
And we must re-set the bar.
Equality, yes! Ridiculousness, no!
There is a much larger war,
And everyone should have the same chances of life,
However they are born.
I think it’s clear to most of us,
That it’s really very drastic,
And we must act now to prevent the planet…
… from drowning in a sea of plastic.
I cannot fathom how so many treat
Our fauna and our flora,
In a world where so much is advancing,
Our planet is getting poorer.
The world is going weird on us,
And should it be deemed fussy,
When a woman has to ask…
… that she is not grabbed by her pussy?
And the UK is struggling too;
Do we leave or do we remain?
Just tell us of the final deal,
And let us vote again.
We’re letting down the NHS,
The sick, the lonely, the old.
And I think wealth is skewed beyond belief,
If I may be so bold.
So when choosing your battles in future,
I really wouldn’t risk it.
Nobody has time for someone,
Who’s offended by a biscuit.
Imagine: hearing the scraping as nails harsh against, their walls
Creche preludes sensing this foreboding; crawling, past these veins ?
Sanctum sanctorum and macabre's, man-of-war his abomination peering
Stepping-stone hallucinations; intuitive marked it's beast ? Ancient's, six'pence....
Monere, a child's eyes prophetic tides omega: hideous, standing where they ought not.
LIFE IS A GREAT LESSON
TO THOSE THAT ALLOW TO BE TAUGHT BY IT
FORETOLD ARE THE STORIES OF LONG
Never to be the same way told
For life can be a crime to those of hope lost
Man of war scattered all around, roaming
Justified be I to tell of long stories
Make your path to lead a way forward
Best are they standing and waiting
But never react to what life throws at them
Surely I know what you could not do
I should not do for leading to failure
Later are the results unavoidable to the wisdom of foretold
But never listened
Wisdom pounds the mind of the foolish to even,
Mock it and not listen.
For life a great lesson who is willing to learn,
For it can’t be said that you’ll fail,
But learn the learned
In achievement of what is good
Let free of the heart that can’t let go
Seek vision for to see the real
Life a lesson, god gave, Man changed, character ruined
But returned, LIFE STILL A GREAT LESSON.
KAREN.F
Joy's spiritual
Joy is here,and now
eternal-
He will show you how
Inspired by John 15:11
Note: This quatrain form is labelled after and inspired by a verse from George Herbert(1593-
1633) poem 'Discipline.'It has the rhyme scheme abab in 5/5/3/5 syllables.Here is that verse
by George
Love is swift of foot
Love's a man of war
and can shoot
And can hit from a far
Mounted on a Missouri mule,
All my possessions in a sack.
The scorching sun, oh so cruel,
Sweat running down my back.
On the way to Kansas City,
To visit my older brother.
Angry still, what a pity,
From one thing or the other.
While crossing a swollen creek,
I only made it halfway through.
This trip started looking bleak,
When my mule threw a shoe.
Afraid of what was next in store,
My mount then loudly groaned.
Bolting off like Man of War,
With everything I owned.
I landed hard on my head,
No drug could ease the pain.
One more thing I had to dread,
It then began to rain.
Standing there all soaking wet,
Drops pelting off my dome.
Beginning now to regret,
I turned around and headed home.