MILITARILY SPEAKING

Two poems per poet maximum.
No collaborations.
Please keep conversation to a minimum,
let's try to keep it to the muse of poetry.

Thanks in advance for entering.

Strider

"Righteous Errand" By Marcus Cooke

Dad
How did things
Become so bad?

"Be the best
Be all you can be
And god speed
on your righteous errand
son"
I tried dad
i tried my very best.

Overseas i saw
fire dance over water
tango with bullets
over sand dunes
I have seen
human turn on human
friend turn to foe
I witnessed allies
Become permanently silent,
pavements
turned to battlefields
I have seen the
clouds of death
and i have seen
Harbingers bring
the rain
ending
in a orgy
of destruction
not fit for
human consumption.
But what do i do now?
sit by and
watch the world
bleed by?
I like to think
We made a difference?
We did make a difference
Right?

Sitting here in my chair
my soul becomes destroyed
whats left
slowly ebbs away
they train you for everything
but they can never prepare
you for what happens next.

The curtain in front
my window becomes a shroud
hiding me from
the pain and torment
the outside world
now brings.
through the cracks,
past the dead spiders
curled up lifeless
on the windowsill
i see human turn on human
friend turn to foe
pavements turn to battlefields
its a war zone out there
and i can do nouthing
i did my duty dammit!
i don't know
who i am anymore??

Dad?
How did things
Become so bad?

Warrior: Last Words



I was a warrior.
I dressed in the armor of battle,
I took up the weapons of war,
And I journeyed to lands where

Freedom was shackled by Tyranny.
Lands in every part of this world,
Since the beginning of time. I fought
Because of the beliefs in my heart:

That there is a God,
And there is a Good Cause.
That all people have a right
To live and think without fear.

That my family should not suffer as others do,
And that others should enjoy the same peace as my family.
Leaders of countries have always had their own
Agendas, but that never mattered to me,

Because my beliefs were good and just.
And because of those beliefs my life was taken
By a small, ridiculous thing like a stone, or an
Arrowhead, or a bullet.

A bullet: no more than an inch long and weighing
Perhaps a few ounces, but lethal enough when it
Pierced my armor and found that vulnerable spot
In my sacrificial body.

And if my corpse was returned home and placed in
Sacred ground, or left to rot on the battlefield, my
Family mourned none-the-less. Their tears will
Moisten the earth, and flowers will grow.

When my soul is placed in another able body,
I will don my armor, take up my weapons,
And I will fight again.

And I will die again.

THE SUCK


http://www.terencebunch.co.uk/articles/iraq-the-united-states-empire-and-the-failure-of-globalist-war-geostrategy-in-south-west-asia/us-soldiers-searching-the-homes-of-iraqis.jpg


Shout outs..
For who; for what?

This kicking butt
Props for taking out the enemy?
Who? Your enemy…the ones only you can see?
Man, most times they all look alike

Whether in the day or at night

And that's a fact
Haji, shit man.. he should’ve took two steps back
All this killing man, I ain't “wit dat”

I mean its justa job… just an M16 with grenades to lob

I jus wanna go home
Back to that Star Spangled Rome

I'm packed...
Jus a couple more spots to get ransacked

To say the least preferably I'll be out
Outta here all in one piece

I’m too "short" for this shit
Jus doin my bit 'til it’s time to quit

Like, you know, what the fuck!
You and Sadaam's corpse

Y’all can have
The Suck

Good riddance
and
Good
   
     BOOM!!!

The Bullet In Al-Husaybuh

In another time,
 
orange sunsets
smelled like cordite.
 
amphetamines running through our blood
made the desert not so cold.
 
we drank from crimson rivers
as they flowed from destroyed sand castles
we kicked, just like children on the beach.
 
The world was quiet beneath the soles of our feet.
 
Guilt was a burden,
carried by mortals.
 
 
 
I´m younger than I used to be,
and now life is only a dream.
 
The bullet in Al-Husaybuh passed through the back of my head
and splattered my brain stem.
 
What is left of me is sprawled on a street corner
next to a child who used to cry so silently
underneath my feet.  but the flesh
that hung from his bones has healed.
 
Now when he sees me, he understands
 
guilt is a burden,
carried by mortals.

How To Read A War Poem

At work I read a poem about Dehydration
that was really about a war, the tears rolled down my face
                        Then I stopped
remembering
I Do Not Cry
about "those types of things"- All Happy lies.

This poem was inspired by the famous British recruiting poster portraying Lord Kitchener, poignant with centenary of Britain's entry into World War I coming next year.

“YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS YOU”

“Your country needs YOU!”, the poster said,
From underneath Lord Kitchener’s head,
The eyes and pointed finger stopped dead
Many would-be-passers-by who, instead,
The short, sharp message having read,
For their King and country enlisted.
Turning from their jobs for daily bread,
And summer sports that they enjoyed.

To meet the demonised ‘Hun’ ahead,
Who would be so surely punished
For making Belgian streets run blood-red
(As newspapers so wildly reported)
They went, willingly, thus recruited.
Many – like Kitchener – would be dead,
With some of the later-conscripted,
Or maimed or insane when war ended,

Wear This Uniform

at 22
you probably couldnt imagine some of the things i've been through
with this uniform i wear
comes great responsibility
i'll always be
all that i can be
its made an adult out of me
 
from germany to the middle east
i've seen war
and i've seen peace
i've seen gods children all over the world
from folks just like you and me
to those hungry little boys and girls
i've danced with the enemy
and stood shoulder to shoulder
with the greatest friends you'll ever meet
we've all got each others backs
and because of that
i'm damn proud to wear this uniform
 
i've been shot at
and people have tried to blow me up
but we stayed tough
and pushed through
i've lost some real good friends to this cause
but they died for your rights
some people just dont get to make it back from the fight
 
from germany to the middle east
i've seen war
and i've seen peace
i've seen gods children all over the world
from folks just like you and me
to those hungry little boys and girls
i've danced with the enemy
and stood shoulder to shoulder
with the greatest friends you'll ever meet
we've all got each others backs
and because of that
i'm damn proud to wear this uniform
 
i'll fly a flag in my yard till the day i die
after where i've been
i'm damn glad to be alive
 
from germany to the middle east
i've seen war
and i've seen peace
i've seen gods children all over the world
from folks just like you and me
to those hungry little boys and girls
i've danced with the enemy
and stood shoulder to shoulder
with the greatest friends you'll ever meet
we've all got each others backs
and because of that
i'm damn proud to wear this uniform

Ultimate Sacrifice

Your name popped up on my news feed today
When I saw the three letters next to it, I couldn't quite find any words to say.
An Army soldier fighting in Afghanistan, dead at the age of twenty-one
You left behind a lot of sad people, including your wife and six month old son.
I know in our work, death can occur at anytime, and anywhere
But that doesn't mean that it's easier to deal with, or that I think it's fair.
I've dealt with death all my life, but military deaths hurt me more
For we share a unique bond, whether Air Force, Army, Navy, or Marine Corps.
The color of our camo was different, but we both swore the same oath
You were my friend and a military brother, and now I've lost you as both.
But you died honorably by giving the ultimate sacrifice in the war that you fought
You're guarding Heaven's gates now; if you can, be a pal and try to save me a spot.
You have fulfilled your duty here, so go now, and say hi to my sister and your mother
We have the watch now...may you forever Rest in Peace brother.

..less of a poem and more of some utter ramblings.




1.

The boy, as usual turned the corner and ran to the herd, dropped
his schoolbag and checked his pocket for the small lump of bread he'd saved at lunchtime.

His father was walking towards him smiling, and carrying the kid goat he'd promised would be born by the time he got there.

overhead, the whirring of a helicopter was making the herd nervous. The boy tried to calm them by singing a song that his mother had taught him. it wasn't working.

His father shook his fist at the helicopter and muttered something about fucking off back to where it came from. they both laughed. then the helicopter answered in it's own syntax.

rat-a-fucking-tat-tat-tat



2.

There's no getting away from the symbolism of war and heroes of war and the fallen of war. We're subjected to it from childhood. we're expected to be true to the flag, or someones idea of patriotic, and our armies don't even have to try instill it into us anymore, we do it to each other.            

3.

It's Lisa's 18th birthday. she's spending the day in London with her family. She's so proud of her father, how he'd fought the axis of evil and helped bring democracy to a land where badness was rampant. she says that she'll join the Air-force and fight  
for queen and country too.


4.

Aaban stood alone. He listened to the family beside him chattering about lunch and the party planned for that evening. He remembered his mother back home and remembered the promise he'd made her.

It was all over in seconds.



..  ..  ..  .. ..  ..  .. ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

It's a never ending circle; flags, colors, symbols
all there to entice us to the patriot game
pick a fucking name and I'll give you a martyr to sing of
get your blood pumping, your heart thumping

they got us so we want revenge, who cares who dies
so long as some fucker cries their eyes out

tears.. tears my friends mean fuck all at the end of the day. The world is at war, always has been. there's nothing anyone can do about it. yep it sounds shit but what ya gonna do ?


well?    

I am a Soldier!

Stealthy movements,
silent walks.
deep in the jungle,
i hide and i fight.

i fight ofr my country,
i fight for the people.
i am a soldier,
i am proud of this.

gun shots all around me,
soldiers dropping to the ground.
watching people die,
really messes up a man.

I trained for years,
to prepare for this.
this is what i am to do,
protect my country.

ill risk my life,
for the people.
id die,
for my country.

enemies approaching,
guns at the ready.
Seargent screams "FIRE"
gun shots everywhere.

the man next to me,
is shot in the leg.
i stop firing,
and assist the man.

i call over the medic.
we have to take him back.
he lost his leg,
hes getting discharged.

this is what we do,
we protect our country.
we risk our lives,
for the people we love.

i am not a hero,
i am a soldier...

Us Army Cadets...

We wear the uniform,
we act as the army.
theres only one difference,
we arent trained to fight.

we do the training,
we do the work.
we mnarch as them,
but we dont fight.

we wear the uniform,
with pride.
One day,
we will be the army.

we grow up,
we go to the army.
but for now,
we are the army cadets.

we wear the uniform,
i am proud of this.
i will one day,
serve for my country...

but for now,
We are the army cadets

NIGHT PATROL (Drug Of Choice)

Adrenaline's the secret sin
of soldiers on patrol,
us "3rd-shift cops" who need to shop
streets where near-death is sold.
Addictive chills; electric eels
that slither up our spines -
seductive sighs and silken thighs
of FEAR to melt the mind.

We're deep in trees, or dark alleys,
'cause Dread's our midnight sun,
so oiled in fright we slip through night
out-numbered and out-gunned,
while brinkmanship's volcanic lips
bubble inside our brains,
"You're so alive! You're flying high!"
and, "Ain't this rush INSANE!?!"

They watch us close, the white-coat folks,
but, oh, what a surprise -
1000-yard stares are not that rare,
a look we can't disguise;
not sadistic - masochistic,
we seek that bubbly voice,
we ride the high, and hide the why...

...it is our pain of choice.

Icepoet