Just a mercenary
Unethical with greed
Imitating plastic
Modern kind of breed
Logic left disjointed
Blinded by corrupt
Sheer selfishness of others
Merely made messed up!
The missing link on the brink
Of self-annihilation
Digested poor examples
And miscommunication.
Though I have compassion
For the gullible and plain
The self serving ignorance
Is idiotically insane.
We see them on the media
We see them in real life
Dramatising, advertising
Mutant means of rife…
(...poem in progress... to bring in wisdom)
Have few friends
lose them all for
mercenary ... it is
an infamy ...!
A morbid chill in the wind,
The sea not always quiet,
She's mercenary like her brutality,
The sky a canvas of colours somber and sultry,
A morbid sound within the wind sends shivers inside,
Rain heavy and fast, vast amounts of water from the sky,
A morbid chill within the air,
Have we all lost touch with nature?.
Janissaries of Peculiar Fictions
David J Walker
Janissaries of Peculiar Fictions
David J Walker
Janissary mercenary
Defender of the faith
What fate awaits the imaginings
Of the faithful
From the thrown colored in
Peculiar fictions unknown
Whether worlds without end
Life everlasting with
Saints and angels singing
on the heads of pens
Or streets paved with gold
bought and sold with
Favors of 70 virgins
in waiting
Janissary mercenaries
Defender of the faith
The hungry sleep
at your feet
Unnoticed
Battered and bruised and broken before
My courageous heart, comes back for more
It soldiers on but finds no peace
Losing time and again, the battles never cease
A kindred spirit it fights to find
Shattered dreams and tears, in it's wake behind
Mending itself after each conflict
Future struggles, it can not predict
One more battle, one more hill
My enduring heart, perseveres until...
This chosen battlefield, a final stand
A fight for happiness, none left to command
With a steady beat, it marches on
My fearless heart, with it's armor gone
The battle plan remains the same
Take no prisoners, ignore the pain
Your offer submitted, surrender deterred
Relinquish my heart, death is preferred
Battered and bruised and broken before
My mercenary heart comes back for more...
Feb 2 2016 an original poem by Daniel Turner
A young pretty lady, seeking company from an unknown
and to the hospitality of my open arms, she quickly lodge.
A stranger still remains an alien until some acquaintance is established
seeing what is right in front of me, such a feeling was purged.
Sweet conversation, chilly atmosphere and some sense of belonging
are benefits attached, hence nothing observable to judge.
Her youthful exuberance was glaringly into play,
but it was stimulating and an effective nudge.
She’s damn good! - Soft touches, sexual tricks, and erotic riddles,
all put my physiological smoke into heavy surge.
A sudden feeling of satisfaction and a ‘game over’ countenance surfaces,
she’s definitely an expert and what’s next is to dodge.
Taking a polite excuse, she run-walks to the bar’s comfort zone,
my instincts begin to define all her gestures to be a forge.
Then I realize my fat wallet is her hired escort,
officially making me a stranded victim of a beautiful scourge.
Just when you think memories die
They say your life flashes before your eyes
Silent nights
Scripts of peace in a new born life
Hunger in days
Taken back less for what poverty weighs
A couple visits to I-C-U
Now as a ghost I see you
Pain inhabits reflection
My anger and aggression
Smiles and faces
child’s and different races
In my final poem
I lay it down a mercenary
Look to heaven with no commentary
Double jeopardy
A sinner plagued with leprosy
Broken jewels
In hands of an innocent man
It's going to be a little blood shed
For the faces that weren't fed
Walk as mortals on the day of the dead
Even in God's hands there’s a little bloodshed
Just when you think memories die
They say your life flashes before your eyes
Silent nights
Scripts of peace in a new born life
Hunger in days
Taken back less for what poverty weighs
A couple visits to I-C-U
Now as a ghost I see you!
Pain inhabits reflection
My anger and aggression
Smiles and faces
Childs and different races
In my final poem
I lay it down a mercenary
Look to heaven with no commentary
Double jeopardy,
A sinner plagued with leprosy
Broken jewels in hands of an innocent man
It's going to be a little blood shed
For the faces that weren't fed
Walk as mortals on the Day of the dead
Even in God's hands there’s a little bloodshed
lone man stands on the hill
invisible demons picking at his will
reminding him of times he’s killed
showing him of the last time he will
lonely soldiers in unknown graves
left to rot for untold days
they fought not for honor or for hate
but for paychecks day to day
hoping, pleading, praying still
for the souls of those they killed
the old man stands his eyes are glazed
burning madness torches his veins
losing hold of all his ways
the demons show him of the kill
the demons give him back his will
his life was his to take
another lonely soldier unknown grave
On the zig zag zenith
we will polarize
the camps between us
who don't realize
the gullible draft
of the patient soul
complacent idols
we will leave unwhole.
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