The weight of lives, lost and saved, presses on my soul. I’ve traded death for death, a grim currency that buys no peace. The battlefield is a cruel stage, where the hero and the villain share the same bloody spotlight.
I’ve felt the cold satisfaction of a kill, a twisted high that numbs the conscience. Yet, the guilt that follows is a relentless torment, a phantom that haunts my dreams. I’ve rescued lives, pulled comrades from the jaws of death. But the hollow victory pales in comparison to the dark thrill of taking one.
Where does a soul like mine belong? In the fiery depths of hell, a fitting punishment for the blood on my hands? Or in the ethereal paradise, where the wicked are denied entry? Perhaps neither. Perhaps I’m destined to wander the battlefield of eternity, caught in an endless cycle of killing and saving.
Is it a loop? A cruel joke of fate, a twisted morality play? I don’t know the answer. All I know is that the war within me rages on, a battle far more brutal than any I’ve fought on the field.
You found me fighting again...
sword drawn in burning battles.
At war with heavy words,
raging against my weakness.
You saw me dragging, dragging
my battered soul, my armored heart,
through blackened fields, razed to the ground.
Places where humaneness fled
and left barren, futile feelings instead.
Neither fragile peace nor hollow victory
could regain me or reconnect numbed nerves,
where I had left myself for dead.
Yet you still soothed me with whisper words...
Bound deep wounds with tender touch,
and gently, gently eased the hurting heart
to lie between blankets of careful kindness
in a bed prepared with mindful love.
Then I slept the deepest, deepest sleep.
Soothed.
Aqua M.
05/02/2024.
Why must diverse native cultures clash
Like titans in the arenas of yesteryear,
Lessons of the past centuries unlearned
While unthinkable horrors, senseless wars,
Continue unabated to devastate the weak
While the strong greedily abscond proudly,
Claiming a hollow victory at the expense
Of humanity and her promise of plenty.
written August 25, 2021
My Dad always used to say
Better to win honestly and
with integrity in tact
Than by default
Because your competition was
having a bad or off day
A hollow victory is still a victory
to some, it still gets your name
engraved on the trophy
Champion elect for the year
Have you ever wanted to win so much
You actually lost touch
Of what the point was
Is winning by default
A hollow victory
Or just collateral damage
And easy to manage
If your looking down on the loser in 2nd Place
Look at my face
And then look at his
This is the business model winners thrive in
That is why 1st place medals shine like Gold
And 2nd and 3rd place medals
Are Cold and dull like Bronze
I got revenge but it was a hollow victory.
Instead of getting pleasure, it horrified me.
Last year, a man raped and murdered my little sister.
The pain is unbearable and I sure have missed her.
That punk got off because he was kinned to the Kennedys.
His underhanded lawyer convinced a jury to set him free.
When he came home last week, I used a knife to disembowel him.
I lept out from behind some bushes and his death was grim.
I thought his death would make me feel really good.
But killing him didn't please me like I thought it would.
It shocked and horrified me, I feel even worse than I did before.
What I'm feeling on the inside is just too much for me to ignore.
I'm going to turn myself in no matter what punishment it brings.
I've learned the hard way that revenge isn't a good thing.
(This is a fictional poem.)
Ariana Grande’s in Manchester, she performs upon the stage
Her music and singing appeals to fans of such a tender age
Young fans sing along to the songs that they all know
And when the concert’s finally over it's time for them to go
But as they file out of the venue a terrorist’s bomb explodes
It’s chaotic, there’s hysteria as their world suddenly implodes
Medic’s rush to help the dying; and the injured they console
The scene is an apocalypse, which has spiraled out of control
A perpetual cacophony of sounds with people screaming and crying
You don’t expect to attend a concert and end up with people dying
There’s a kaleidoscope of colour from the emergency floodlight
A hollow victory for terrorism on this unforgettable May night
8 word challenge 4 Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
09-21-17
On May 22nd, 22 people lost their lives and 116 people were injured when a suicide bomb exploded as people left the Ariane Grande concert … the youngest victim was just 8 years old
PERPETUAL PEACE
‘A hollow victory, this success I’ve gained.’
I follow the crowd of fueled hysteria, though we have nowhere to go. The landscape’s been altered - the black and blue of evil’s all that’s left. Yesterday’s kaleidoscope, like the Aurora Borealis, should have been viewed spectacular, but our loved ones have been whisked away, perhaps beamed up by extraterrestrials. That’s what my logical mind says.
I laugh.
I enter the tent of Perpetual Peace, a church constructed overnight. That’s when my day spiraled out of control. Humming is all I hear. The buzzing tries to hinge to my inner thoughts.
It won’t stop!
It won’t stop!
The cacophony on the outside tries to wrap around my arms and legs.
I run!
I run!
“It’s the apocalypse” someone screams. I can’t get that word out of my head.
The chaotic day ends in flames.
I stare. I stare... into the abyss.
Repetitive my lips:
‘A hollow victory.
this success I’ve gained’
accompanied by perpetual humming
9/12/2017
Eight Word Challenge 4
Swords clash and ignite the fire within
Fighters draw and strike again.
Draw! Strike! Draw again!
Strike him until he’s subdued!
Broken, bloody, torn and bruised.
Strike again, angry words this time fall
Forget the brotherhood and ties, uniting them all.
Victory is within his grasp
he can hear his enemy’s final gasp.
Menacingly he looks over the wounded, now walking dead
Grinning evilly, he picks up his sword to swing it over his head.
Victory is imminent;
He rushes on as he prepares to draw and strike the fatal blow.
Suddenly he notices the hilt with an ethereal glow.
“free people are brothers” is the gilded message of the now silent sword.
Anguish, grief and remorse are now his just reward.
An enemy he was not, but a friend,
Struck down, fatal blow, a grisly end.
Bonded they were in a battle long ago,when they fought for the same cause side by side
to be enslaved no more, was their battle cry, now by his own sword, his brother has died.
Hollow victory, blood stained hilt;
Now filled with sadness, pain and guilt.
A silenced mouth still with stories untold.
Forgotten brotherhood, a kinship now extinguished and grown cold.
once they were all mine
beauty, youth and attitude
unconquerable
selfishness and ego reigns
bringing hollow victory
changes come with time
gradually and certain
self retreats a bit
bringing love to the forefront
happiness is love’s reward
By: Joyce Johnson
7/6/11
for Linda Marie's contest "Bag of Tricks" Won a third in contest
The battle rages on
As the bullets fly
In the quest for victory
Our young soldiers die
They laid like stone
Tears of red
Hearts pierced by bayonets
A hundred men dead
Fighting for freedom
That’s what they were told
As the days progress
The truth would unfold
Not freedom or liberty
But a piece of land
Greed and power
Go hand in hand
With dawn’s light
The sounds of battle now still
One soldier stands alone
No more he has to kill
Wading in a sea of blood
Fallen comrades at his feet
Was this truly victory
A war based on deceit
What freedom lies in survival
When so many heartbeats cease
It is only those that died
That truly know the meaning of peace
__________________