THE GANGSTER DISCIPLE TREATY FREE LARRY HOOVER MOVEMENT BEGAN TO SOUND OFF THROUGHOUT THE PRISON SYSTEMS IN THE MIDWEST INCLUDING THE WOMANS PRISON IN WISCONSIN HOUSING REPEAT SEVERE VIOLENT OFFENDERS AS DEATHROW INMATES PREPARIING FOR PARDONS EARLY RELEASES OR COMMUTED SENTENCES AS TRUMP COMMUTED FOUNDER LARRY HOOVER FEDERAL MULTIPLE LIFE PRISON COMMUTED TO 200 YEARS FOR THE MURDERS THIS SENT THE PRISON SYSTEM INTO A FRENZY FOR CORRUPTION GANG RELATED LAW ENFORCEMENT PROVIDING RIOT GEAR TO GANG LEADERS IN ORDER TO STAND OFF WITH FBI AGENTS KILLING INFORMANTS I AM REMINDED OF MY WEARING WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FBI JUNK SICK COPS WORKING SECURITY FOR GANGS IMAGINE HOW TERRORISTS MIMIC AMERICAN GANGS A SYSTEM THAT TEACHES FORIEGNERS HOW TO HARM AMERICANS THROUGH ORGANIZED CRIME CORRUPTION I WILL NEVER FEAR 1 HOOVER LANE WEARING A BADGE WORKING FOR GANG LEADERS INCLUDING SEVERE REPEAT VIOLENT OFFENDERS UCAN2 CORRUPTION AT ITS FINEST ACTUALLY REPRESENTING THE GANGSTER DISCIPLES OPENING A PASSAGEWAY FOR TERRORISTS RATHER WW1 WW11 WW111 ORGANIZED CORRUPTION CONTROLLING TERROISM ON AMERICAN SOIL GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT OF ABUSE OF POWER
Meet me halfway,
Cross the slough and the mire.
Meet me halfway,
By the strands of barbed wire.
Relinquish our vows
To ravish each other,
And just for the moment,
Be brother to brother.
Meet me halfway,
Cross this killing field.
Meet me halfway,
My arms shall I yield.
Our eyes have both seen,
Such death and such sorrow,
Both of us know,
We may die on the morrow.
Meet me halfway,
In this realm of the dead.
Meet me halfway,
Where the fallen have tread.
Damn with the old guard,
So willing, we die.
Loud and persistent,
We’ve heard the death cry.
Meet me halfway,
Cross the slough and the mire.
Meet me halfway,
By the strands of barbed wire.
Let us share in good will,
Bare our souls, one another.
Meet, not as my foe.
But meet, as my brother.
Meet me halfway,
By the strands of barbed wire.
Meet me halfway,
Let us call a ceasefire.
Let us both discover,
Each other’s worth.
On this sacred night,
Of our Savior’s birth.
Meet me halfway,
As we walk towards the light.
Meet me halfway,
No longer we fight.
No longer the need,
For us to be brave,
Alas, both of us now,
Lie in our grave.
Cherry Blossoms
Pink
With smiles, Of innocence.
flutter,
and flutter,
waltzing,
with the breeze,
as if ?
Dancing on a slack line,
without Mercy,
Trying desperately….
not to sneeze.
And fall….. too soon,
Falling, falling, zigzagging,
Into the arms of spring.
And as fate decrees,
at Last surrendering…..
To,
Newtons Third law.
All Quiet on the Western Front.
How many sons
have we lost
How many demons
have we found
How many graves
must we dig
To make the ‘Fatherland’
proud
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
How many more?
How many more before this devil is fed?
A hundred, a thousand, does he ever get enough?
This existence is now becoming too much to bear!
I don’t know if life’s worth what’s happening out there
Perhaps one day they’ll praise this as some honourable sacrifice?
Perhaps it’s nature’s way of thinning life?
But so many boys now won’t be men.
Tell me who’s idea was this war again
Tell me so I can remember their name
So I can find them in hell and kill them again
Explosions screamed
Flame and fire roared
Hell before my eyes
My mind panicking to absorb
Thunder cracked open the cruel sky
Rain hits so hard
Bullets fly
Sensations flood through the mind
Mud splattered up, blood in my eyes
A mighty pain hits from behind
Hit the ground hard
Then I die
A solemn quiet
A familiar moon
Stars light up the sky
I feel then see movement then stand up right
In no man's land I'm with my kind
Moving together to a further light
No sounds, no fear, no tears to cry
Eruption of fate for a thousand more lives
We walk on through battle as others die
They join our movement, no guns, no knives
We look at each other through dead men's eyes
A sea of silent movement over fields of cries
A sea of slaughtered life sacrificed for the sake of mankind
A sea of heroes, a sea of lies,
dreams killed forever by bullet, bomb or knife
I am alive,
I wonder what is next,
I hear the fire,
I see the enemy,
I want to live,
I am afraid,
I pretend I'm not here,
I feel the shaking of the ground,
I touch the my muddy trench,
I worry for the next attack,
I cry in my sleep,
I am done killing,
I understand I must fight to the bitter end,
I say the war should be over,
I dream of a better place,
I try to cope with the dead beside me,
I hope my fellow soldiers fight beside me,
I am the front line.
WW1
and after bloody ww1
our returning boys,
were bloody numb,
to walk the roads,
with a swag outback,
to live on rabbit on the track,
half crazed from bomb and gas attack,
as crazy seen by some,
old soldiers on their rum,
when they could get em some,
outback...
re: Dave Williams excellent "The King's Shilling"
Don Johnson
World War One 1914-1918
WW2 Aussie soldiers, were five bob a day murderers, they quipped:)
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