Tag Archives: war

No Peace.

She laid her once holy blade in the mud,
Raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun,
To gaze across a wasteland soaked in blood.
She looked for her brothers, for survivors, anyone,
Naught but frozen, lifeless eyes met her gaze.
Thousands and thousands marched with her from home,
So quickly torn from their halcyon days,
To the final resting place for their souls.
For herself she weeps, not so much the dead.
Her price? No release for herself to find.
For such a price, can “This is peace.” be said?
She mourns for the world that she’ll leave behind.
There’s no absolution in crimson tide.
There is no peace where so many must die.

Fires of Conspiracy

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From those in power,
We are different.
The smell is sour,
The taste, a bitterent.
The throne ought be mirror,
Not what casts a shadow.
The occupant peers ore’,
Their hardened hearts to harrow.
In furrowed wakes behind,
They planted in the soil
And the dirt that is our minds
Seeds of greed that despoil.
Their labor; our sweat and blood,
Their currency; our souls.
Just one night, a violent flood
To overthrow their thrones.
But will we stand
Against the tide?
Our bloody hands,
Their secrets hide.
No more behind a face so strange,
We’ll find one more familiar,
Shown in the puddled rain
To be one that is similar.
The last dark night, the red dawn shows
Whose hands that did conspire,
Death and greed with war in tow,
In ash recently expired.
From those ashes who’s to say,
What tree we’ll see to grow?
We, the ones to prune today,
Decide beauty or thorn show.

To the Victor Go the Spoils

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To the victor go the spoils
Ore’ this earth do we toil.
For the crimes that we took part in,
Who wins determine what they were then.
Good or bad, right or wrong,
It doesn’t matter all along.
If victorious: exonerated.
If defeated: incarcerated.
Where do we find truth when the victors write history?
We question everything until we find a clue behind the mystery.

Aftermath

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The sweet lies he tells himself
Before descent into that hell.
“It’s not so bad, it wont hurt.”
Though doesn’t believe it when his turn,
Arrives and he must face the flames.
He must sacrifice all without promise of fame.
And for a time he endured,
And for a time he succeeded.
His goal of victory, took some time to achive it.
Now at the end with his hair of white,
He sits and questions, “Was I in Gods delight?”
Though he knew the answer when he crossed the border.
No soldier can say “I was just following orders.”,
When called on to answer for actions immoral.
There he sat and he mused, there he sat and he thought,
“I’ll make right all my wrongs whatever the cost.
Then on the day when I stand to be judged,
I won’t be afraid, I’ll be proud of what I’ve done.”

Deathbringer

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Without the strength to stand,
Though she is so trying,
And will not leave this dying land,
Oh so quickly it is dying.
A thousand fallen before her blade.
One thousand more dare to try.
Countless battles into memory fade,
Here, with silent tears she cries,
Yet what death she brings will save more.
With what currency is life bought but blood?
How much must be spilt before,
Death falls ‘ore this land like a flood?
She hopes to stem this coming tide,
Of death and blood and dying earth,
For peace and blood doth not coinside,
There first must be a hearts rebirth.

Moonlight To Ponder

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He’s been long absent, in absent non-bliss,
Beneath the clouds they’ve forgotten his face.
The moon bends down, on his cheek plants a kiss.
By her light he’s able to find his place.
But what place is his that he can call home?
Those he once knew turn away from his call.
Back to the road this one returns alone.
His brother, not he, they wanted home, tall.
It wasn’t his fault, though he blames himself;
He, the only one to escape the flames.
They’ll be no mountain into which he’ll delve,
There will be no bed in which he’ll long stay.
He will only have a path to wander.
He will only have moonlight to ponder.

This one is about a soldier returning home from war where his brother died. His friends and family sadly resent him for surviving wishing for his brother to be alive instead. Outcast and alone, he is forced to wander the rest of his days.

The Waste Of War

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Walking among the wastes of war
Asking the air: “What for?”
Among the dead and decaying corruption,
I see a pillar, a hallucination.
On the pillar I see inscribed:
“This is for what we have died.
Death, the lord of war,
Tells us its worth fighting for
But for this it’s not worth dying
And our families for us are pining.
Now lost forever in this waste
Our souls are spread like a paste
Over this dead and dying land
Cause someone didn’t see what was at hand.
They disregard our cries for help
Then watch us die while they can’t help
But sit and think upon their mistakes
Then greed will, their guilt take
And tell them it was just a few,
For the gain of me and you.
They do not value anyone’s life.
They are not killed with a knife.
And to you who reads this now,
Never to greed should you bow.
Never fight for something you don’t believe in,
Never to your greed give in.
For it will be paid for by anothers life
And you will never die by knife.”
After reading this I walked away
From the pillar and the decay
Of war and what it had destroyed,
From death and what it had employed.
And now today I bring my son
To the edge of what war had done.
Walking among the wastes of war,
Asking the air: “What for?”
Among the dead and decaying corruption
We see a pillar, a hallucination,
On the pillar we see inscribed:
“This is for what we have died…”