Long War zone Poems

Long War zone Poems. Below are the most popular long War zone by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long War zone poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Storm

Jequetha’s Storm


Early one morning, Jequetha, sat listening to naughty by nature lyrics.
She knew that it was a special day, for she saw her sign in the night sky.
She was forlorn by the sounds which she heard around her.
Sad sounds of men and women in pain, inflicting wounds self doubt in retaliation.
And the screams of children crying out for the earth.
And she began to pray, “Mama Mary!!  Black Mama who guides my steps! I feel a 
storm comin’! Make it right Mama!! Make it right!”
And as the tears ran down her face, she knew she had a place in the beginnings 
of things.
And her mother came into her room and said, “Baby, you’s gon’ bring the 
whirlwind!!”
“Cause there’s mad men who done gone crazy and they believe that troops can 
solve the cracks and sores deep within.  But you will be a balm, baby!!  For 
Gilead shines through you.  And because of you the world will know of God’s 
mercy.  For God’s angry, but God’s love too !!  God’s love too!”
And Jequetha rose up and ran out into the night stars begging the forces of day 
to force the stars to shine brighter, for lighter days are coming.”
Lighter days are coming, for storms are not always the end, but sometimes the 
beginning.
Innocent men dying on crosses are nothing new.
Innocent men on rows of death sentences scream out to the cosmos for a 
requiem.
And God smiles, for many think they know the one!  But they shun the son, who 
built the sun.
Fast and Pray, that’s what the angels say.
Cause a storm is comin’!
For sons and daughters shall prophecy and the birds will fly in formations of war 
against black widows weaving webs of deceptions.
For all tyrants will know the heat of honest requiem.
And all valleys will be brought high, through the songs of Yoruba angels shouting 
Metakayase.
Buddhist Christian prophets rise from the south and come west.
Bipolar warriors heal with profligate abandon.
And University Deans step into the war zone, to bring the scent of victory.
I tell you a storm is coming!!
And it shall be wondrous!!
And it shall change the face of clone armies of greed, feending for the next nut, to 
spew relentless jism over single mothers working 3 jobs.
For sons and daughters shall prophecy and the world will know revolution.
Form: Ballade


The Narrow Squeak Show Chapter 2

THE NARROW SQUEAK SHOW CHAPTER 2 

So now,here I am 
Wham! 
That was a close shave! 
Whew! 
No way to behave! 
Damn tanks! 
I am all alone 
Is this a war zone? 

I have  my lucky charm........... 
I will not come to any harm 
The bullet that dropped at my feet 
Death? 
We can never meet! 

Now, I am thinking 
The ship sinking 
Me, drinking 
What a week! 
Absolutely stinking! 

Still, I am here 
Editing The Narrow Squeak files 
I have no fear 
I have a bullet charm 
So I will come to no harm........ 
says I,dropping a donation to St Giles! 

Now, I am thinking 
It has kept me awake 
That damn earthquake! 
Spoiled my train of thought 
(Not the train,did I fall or was I pushed?) 
That was close 
I was nearly caught! 

Hey ho! 
These strange events........ 
Really make me tense 
But one must overcome 
The shattering blow 
That leaves you numb 

I was walking......... 
Just the other day 
I have given up public transport 
It doesnt pay! 

I tripped and nearly fell 
The gap in the pavement,miles wide 
but with a hop ,skip and jump 
I made it to the otherside, 
with scarcely a bump 

Whew! 
What a week! 
I havent found 
What I am supposed to seek 
May be it is underground? 
Better take a peek! 

I returned to the canyon in the pavement 
Fought back the urge to jump 
I climbed down instead 
What a dump! 
I didn't at all feel any dread 

I clutched my narrow squeak book 
I daren't look 
All this rubble! 
Could I be in trouble? 

Now, I am thinking............. 
What if I am better off dead? 
Well ,I am deep underground 
The foul air keeps me coughing 
The canyon in the pavement............. 
My final coffin? 

What goes down..... 
Must come up 
I justify this, 
as the boiling lava 
gives an evil hiss! 

I start to climb quite fast.......... 
chapter two.......... 
Looking to be my last! 
I have my bullet charm 
Damn! 
The name only has one "T" 
I have two! 
This feels me with alarm! 

The lava is quite hot now........ 
What do I do now? 
My bullet charm........... 
is now flawed 
How the temperature soared 

I made it to the top 
The lava narrowly missed me! 
Not one drop! 
I can complete chapter three!
Form: Ballad

Awaiting Rescue By Good Ole Extraterrestrial Homeboys

Cuz existence among *****sapiens 
extremely intolerable prospect
particularly sharing planet 
with most violent species
courtesy hoodlums wielding
deadly firearms methodically gun down
men, women and children
ratcheting grim milestone
countless dead civilians linkedin 
with hazards of war zone. 

Upon surrendering this self
hypnotized faux yes ("FAKE") Earthing,
I noticed nothing amiss
(which temporary state of transcendent bliss
twice daily meditation strives to attain),
ah...before you dismiss
a non "FAKE" claim lemme juiced

apprise ye with a very brief hiss
tour re:, how this generally outlandish
(long gush fellow) doth wanna kiss
hippy, cheeky and buddy 
UFO's (with chess
a mon bot of errant knightly -
je ne sais quois finesse,

Oh Henri Matisse -
yea artfully add a touch of Swiss
obviously predominantly
French laced politesse),
though up pawn occasion
this lousy manque non
rook key mutant doth miss

long disused subtle social cues, cuz I still
feel asper (in) a human aberration
always felt like an outcast in an alien nation
even though born on Mars,
(a distinct honorable station),

yet resided on third rock from the sun
what seems like forever damnation
yours truly experienced abolition
against supposed invaders from outer space,
and essentially targeted, kindled,

and bullied on par like an abomination,
no surprise while attempting
to escape imponderable, 
and intolerable being walled din,
and trumped "illegal" accusation
crackled, snapped, and popped with abjection,

your honor (forgot to mention
earlier got picked up mistaken as invitation
from outer space by a kid prized
as some sophisticated surveillance drone),
within an etchy sketchy section

of town, and must avoid acquisition
by mad scientists (employed by NASA),
who will undoubtedly take immediate action
and disassemble me (carefully as if dismantling
Bono fide atomic bomb), hence activation

must be established pronto against administration,
sans powerful GMO firearm, emitting disinformation
(mine defense of last resort)
will definitely signal to nemesis
furthering my aggravation,
and Putin this webbed, whirled,
and wired woebegone 
wysiwyg wordsmith at risk.
Form: Rhyme

"friends Are the Best Enemy"

Don't justify my behaviors, point them as you always do, why do you keep on with this lie
if a paper stop you a year ago? Get along with us, is not like you gonna die, stop
pretending a life never had, i can make sure you die now, not hate either love, i just
play by the law of your anarchy, pathetic, don't lie anymore, you spit hate with flames, i
could feel that warm feeling on my face when you spited on me, insult? Not taken from you,
i know how much of a pig you can be, i see how much you do for money, i see your well
being become a parasite, a monster, remember when we were young and fought alongside me to
protect the child's on the city? How we held guns on war for the flag? Now look at this,
blood every were, we want to kill each other, why? After so many tears we shed together
when our comrade died in front of us, blood, after so many nights posted with blazing guns
on hands, blood, after the broken family we lived on we just fell apart like fool's, like
idiots we fight, for blood! Im sick of it, we were friends, we were thick and thin, we had
a life as partners, as comrades, as leaders, you made ashes, i did too, let you go inside
that room and kill them all, i should have killed you when i had the chance, when i had my
gun pointed at your head, but good old times stop my pull of the trigger, i could have
stop you, now we have this mess, you are a rogue man, i am the hunter, not for the flag,
but for my collection of heads, you run from me and keep on putting messages same way, you
won't stop, the collection of heads you and I build  together, now gone! Then i will kill
you! You deserve this hell after killing 34 children on their sleep, never opening eyes
again, this is why i want to kill you ex-friend.

Remember when you told me years ago... You were happy we ran from that war zone, you told
me we survive and we should spread the word, you said you wanted to change a piece of the
world, you said we were friends, now... After long 17 years, we fight each other, like we
fought back to back, so I put my gun on your fore head, hope you pull the trigger...

- POEM TO MOTIVATE POET'S TO WRITE THEIR HEARTS INTO THEIR STYLES -

24 Days Old

Words
Like I’ve never felt the worst
Like I’ve never felt it hurt
You don’t know me now do you?

Ghosts 
Haunting brand new unused minds
Feeding on a soul alive
You’ve not felt it now do you?

Was a tough struggle, ‘Tween land and water
War zone placed with the faintest border
To paint the struggle, the hues uncertain
Couldn’t understand why ‘‘twas so much harder

But I was 24 days old
When I went to the death’s door
And you brought me back alive
And I was 24 days old
When I faced trial at court
And you saved me in the fight
If I did not find you then I’d be watching from the sky,
Still 24 days old

Gods
Please don’t let her wander off
Please don’t make this life too short
Hear our prayers now will you?

Too young for battle, she got no option
She fought her way through the heard of monsters 
Still underwater, can’t reach the surface
Would’ve given up if you let me surrender

But I was 24 days old
When I went to the death’s door
And you brought me back alive
And I was 24 days old
When I faced trial at court
And you saved me in the fight
If I did not find you then I’d be watching from the sky,
Still 24 days old

Your needles prick me all day long
But they stop me falling under the ground 
Where the monsters wait to drag me down
To a place, I’d call home, if you’d let me go

But I was 24 days old
When I went to the death’s door
And you brought me back alive
And I was 24 days old
When I faced trial at court
And you saved me in the fight
If I did not find you then I’d be watching from the sky,
Still 24 days old


 
Context:

 I obviously don’t remember any of this, but I had been diagnosed with meningitis when I was only 24 days old. Thankfully I made a complete recovery, and is quite healthy at the moment, with no side effects.

 People expect me to go to med school so I can repay the debt I owe to those who saved me, but I chose to study arts instead. 

I wrote this song hoping to release it and raise funds for a children’s hospital where I was admitted when I was diagnosed. But since I didn’t get a chance to do that, I decided to publish it here. 

Hope you enjoyed it. Thank you


The Right Eye Removed

"The Right Eye Removed"



intuition guides a feline mind
to feel vain glorious 
in the poetry of dreams
stretching limits of awareness
velvet pawed 
a burnt orange 
bittersweet marmalade coat
delicious to kiss 
the point between 
the ears that listen for signs
mink stole he wears 
himself striped around my neck
finding new ways 
to purr through his dark night
into the mystery of 
his opaque opalus opallios world

his left analytical 
glistening topaz 
prehistoric amber 
shines like glass
black iris blooming
in a pool of honey 
questioning ideas 
that run through his 
greyhound strides
the right eye removed 
bone white phantom oculus
poached out by a thief 
with a pad, pen and 
surgically precise knife
drugged on strong catnip
the discarded damaged marble
thrown in a bin overnight

he works his way around 
this bad romance 
feels the colours of light 
he is sensually sincere
licking necks and ears 
and the other's eyes 
twin forest jade stones
the foreign ponds  
of something new 
holding tight

this kamikaze pilot 
flying across high rise cupboards
treasure boxes to plunder 
tricky to navigate 
he is immersed in a new life
the changing colours 
of a small heart 
with big dreams
romancing streams of 
rainbow koi seen in his mind
he is a Japanese ninja warrior
a good luck token 
protector of Moonlight
and ground zero 
the bed…that he has claimed,
all his

and he is loved
perfection in 
the damage of 
the war zone delivered
to him at birth
he is free to wonder 
and he wanders
this brave and distinguished hunter
preying with delight 
he bows on all fours

he stops still
and in the reflection 
that is left

I look at him 
and I see 

we are two 
of one mind
searching 
for the same
all along

am I her’s,
or is she mine

am I his
or is he mine

it no longer matters
old souls

we belong
in this time

(LadyLabyrinth / 2021) 











Opallios. Greek.
“to see a change in colour”

Opalus. Latin. 
“precious jewel”
Form: Epic

Premium Member The Wind-Up Man, the Patch-Work Girl and the Remaining Time

"The Wind-Up Man, The Patch-Work Girl and The Remaining Time"



What do you do when your heart breaks into a million pieces?
You turn into metal, what’s left of your heart freezes.


What do you do when your world ceases?
You lock the shards of your flimsy trust behind iron walls, you escape battles, Death teases.


What do you do when your bird is caged and it’s will to live rattles, then is smothered by vile whispers and flying monkey cold screaming breezes?
You look for the key that the past swallowed, it’s fallen between the cracks of your mind’s barbed wire nettles and torpid grey hollows, the yard’s a war zone, there it remains buried in the void that is treeless, dead temporoparietal.


What do you do when your heart shatters and Life’s colour drains before your windows, invisible, all that ever mattered?
You look in the mirrors for ways out of the maze puzzle, walking with all the other ghosts there who are lost, shattered, battered and muzzled.


What do you do when you Return to Oz?
You look for the good grace not to draw blood. 


What do you do when you are free?
You return to the Ones who loved you once, you just "BE".


What do you do when you look for you?
You open your heart, you learn to be TRUE. 




(Lovejoy-Burton/April 2018)
For gvlm/scm

"This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man."


"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only LIGHT can do that."


"There is no LOVE without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without LOVE".







"Return to Oz", Scissor Sisters
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5S0NdraxTA

https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/scissorsisters/returntooz.html
Form: Couplet

Premium Member A Beautician I Once Knew-F

The gentle lady was often observed by a little boy.                                                                                                          She had hands with a magical touch coveted by many.

In her left hand were strings of hair longing to be treated,                                                                                      and in her right hand was an iron comb of varying temperatures.

The iron comb and human hands slowly stroked the hairs of her clientele.                                                                                     But she was accompanied with a most listening ear to hear the heart cries     

of those who sat in her 'beauty chair'.  Hers was a heart of gold with a very special place, a compartment, for the storage and processing of the many 

secrets that she was told. She had plenty enough cares of her own because hers was a family of many kids and often a most insensitive husband twenty- 

two years her senior. Nevertheless, out of what at times was a war zone, a house of chaos, she crafted a happy home. Her lips, through which never a 

harmful word would be revealed, were always sealed.  A breath of fresh air and soothing like a gentle breeze that slowly flowed through the open sky, this 

beautician cared for far more than hair.  Her home was an open door, and many were the burdens of others that she so willingly bore.  So loving and 

caring, she was gifted with an eye for beauty that looked deep into the souls 
of her customers.  It was there that she beheld so much of their misery and 

ugliness with a carefulness for withholding judgment.  They came with high hopes of a great hairdo which they received but also left with a makeover of 

their troubled souls, because they were touched by the crafty hands and  loving heart of a little boy's mother who was a beautician I once knew.

08282018PoSoupCtest, Strand Select V, Brian Strand. 3P
Form: Couplet

Seismac

Seismac 
Seismac 
 
 
Spelling Bee 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
Oneseventysix 
 S it starts with S no arguments the EI could be the IE but the E is alphabetically 
the foremost letter and IE seems wrong to mee then there is another S. It seems 
so out of place but sounds so there it seems to me the S makes seismic sense. 
The M is just the middle of the word caught between the EIS and the ending. The 
ending is the IC it seems to me to be less forcefull AC would do better call it 
seismac rhymes with smack see eh? And makes a much better and harder 
word. The possibilities multiply immediately the Seismac Ocean. The Isle of 
Seismac. The Seismac waves washed over the smurfer today as he sat android 
like at his computer terminal in the shaded area. Everyone has favorite places 
and webpages on the internet there is many such places a man will visit and tell 
everyone about them but there is a few that he will never divulge the info even on 
his deathbed he keeps the sign in log on secret. 
He will sit and watch the movie while his best and only friend flips the simulation 
cards to make the mouses ears move up and down. This is vanity and chagrin. 
The up to the minute news is had while his only friend sits looking at the crystal 
glass ball in an effort to determine what transpired in la la  land. The news in 
Africa is GOLD in America its OLD in Switzerland it's COLD in The Netherland it's 
BOLD. The same seismac article of war zone policy states that upper echelon 
read faster they get better weather and more money cake and laughter. Mein 
COMP. MIEN Comp. The hills are blue the beans are red becomes blue beans 
the hills are red, the while away the time becomes the time is marching on the 
sun will set in the western sky at daybreak in the eastern lie. The tsunami waves 
of seismac grains reach all the living left alive for when the people die the spirit 
feels it. Eye am seismac.

Time Gone

Today is Wednesday,the very second one of the year,
It is a sunny afternoon, though very busy.
We can tell time in whichever dimension,
From whatever place we may be hiding,
For it is one precious gift we all are entitled to,
Much as it doesn't necessarily govern our motives.

This one thing, I have learnt,
That it is because of time that we are judged objectively,
Moreso when we have to accomplish a task in a fixed time frame,
Say for instance study,get a job,get married,buy a vehicle-
For a job well done, we're congratulated,
For a messed up activity, we're cursed to hell
And named after lazy bones or cowards.
All because time is in control!

When the bereaved are robbed of their loved ones,
The world goes still and time should in fact freeze
As they mourn and grieve for their loss,
But the clock keeps on ticking,
Because there are more important alive people
Than the one gone to the world of the dead.
When one falls sick and is excused from class or school,
The term or month doesn't wait for them,
Everything progresses normally like you were never needed,
Because time is in control.

It is one thing, which once lost,
Can never be retrieved,
Neither by magic nor prayer!
Had it been possible to chase after it,
Perhaps we would have the hope of compensating,
But once it's gone,it is really gone forever!

What,then,
Shall we die holding the trigger 
Like soldiers in the war zone?
Shall we give up because of what we have lost?
Absolutely, "NO"
What is gone,we cannot retrieve,
But what is left,we can maximumly utilize.
It is very okay to take time off,
To have our wounds and pains heal,
That upon our return, we're fit for the journey.
It does us no harm, accepting that we're late
For it is then that we can concentrate,
In order to attain the goal ahead of us
Within the remaining time,
Short or long as it may be.

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