Best Young Blood Poems
The board- flat, immovable, sterile, arranged for a fun, friendly, relaxing battle till the ultimate death but a few aristocrats. The warzone landscape always unblemished, dry and warm. No rain, no freeze. Often the Generals joke whilst there is slaughter- sipping wine with cheese, distracted by trivialities. And still the battle rages. People of rank die in silence. Yet there is no sign of the carnage like Ypres or Pozieres. Youths, kids, young naïve minds are instructed of best ways to kill, strategies of war. Show no mercy and chuckle, encouraged to obliterate. Bang!
One, two, three… no… four dead, an excellent sacrifice for our side, we killed one royal. Yes, we are further in their land.
Aha, choose which soldier you want to die. Oops, I didn’t see that coming. Hmmmmmm clever.
Check mate!
Immediately the enemy is decimated, there are two fit, healthy, fully mobile armies facing off once again for a deadly duel. Both Generals happy to face off and continue the murderous rampage.
Young and naive,
we laugh under the melancholy,
chat spilling into tears,
learning the tides of life
aren’t meant to break us,
but to forge our minds and hearts.
They speak in endless semantics,
rhetoric designed to trap us
between the parting moon
and the awakening sun.
We will not be them.
We will take their forms
only to bend them to our own.
We will not close our eyes
to the pleas of the lonely,
nor ignore the burdens
of the weary.
Young blood, young dreamers—
stakes are high, odds crippling,
yet we move forward,
through the “what ifs” and the “what nots.”
We take our time,
unsheathing our gifts
for the good of all.
Music and poetry spill
from our fingers,
light flickers in our eyes,
twinkles born of eagerness
we never felt before.
So we dance
to senseless rhythms,
through misgivings and missed chances.
We chant hymns and whisper aphorisms,
and in everything, give thanks.
In nothing, we tremble.
Our moods alter
with fanciful thoughts
until the city is drenched
in our youthful voices.
We serve with love,
hate touches none.
We paint our visions
on the vast daylight sky—
imaginary, illusory,
but pure, undivided, unyielding.
Into the sea we cast indecision,
urging forward until the last embers of the day die.
I am the representee of a culture that is strong and powerful within
a brotherhood built on a solid rock of trust
A energy that flows through the vains and makes it way to the heart
Naked among the obvious eye,
you'll observe a master of an art at it's finest
Lonesome skin brought unto the world
Self reliance becomes a struggle to endure
nevertheless the tensions grow and the gravels thicken
society drastically emerge almost catarophic
Pride, respect, and my word is all questioned under the streetlights
it's a vivid decision
social insight becomes dismantled
And a generation of deception that once lured you
is bound to leave you with a bruise
Everything you desperately portrayed as a young blood
got you trapped in it's eye-candy
A word to the youth
You are not reinventing the wheel
Everything you read on a search engine
Was placed there by those old people
You treat like fossils from a distant past
Contempt has to he learnt
And what you see before you as withered and burnt
What you take for granted
Was paid for and paved by old age and experience
There life has been banked and spent
A 1000 lifetime's over
And you will never know it
Until you 2 grow into it
So act like you know it all
You won't be young forever
And you will only realize you were never that clever
And that age stings
And the only thing worth discovering
Can't be taught it has to be bought
And the cost is lines and wrinkles
Not teenage pimples
War is a waste of precious young blood
War is a waste of fresh natural resources
War is as bad as a raging and vile flood
War is evil if you understand the sources
The reasoning behind such unnecessary
Aggression and the violence and the vanity
Which are cowardly robbing and destroying
Mankind. War is bad. War is a very bad thing
War is evil and criminal
War is mortal and abnormal.
War is a waste for the perpetrators and the victims
War is a waste for all. But peace comes like dreams
Distant dreams. Peace is more precious than money
Diamond, gold, silver and all other precious metals
Said a very eloquent brother who deserves all medals
Ever invented by famous and powerful institutions
Give us peace, not evil wars dear highly divine Almighty
Help men learn from past errors and nugatory aggressions
War is unnatural and abysmal
War is lethal and inimical.
Copyright © February 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.