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Darren Scanlon Aug 2015
And the troops go marching proudly by
as she wipes a tear from her weary eyes,
the one that she seeks, she will never again hold
for he died at his post; he was thirty years old.

The colours fly high on a cool autumn breeze
as man and boy march with well practiced ease,
so glad to be home after being so brave,
with flags overhead and not covering their graves.

She can bare it no longer as tears start to flow
down pale damp cheeks as she sways to and fro,
too much of their blood spilled on foreign fields
at the whim of the tyrants and their deadly deals.

Friends hold her up with compassion and love
and so many look down from the heavens above,
surrounded by many who share in her grief
but the feelings yield little by way of relief.

§

And the troops go marching with heads held high,
ribbons on tunics for brave deeds gone by
but each feels the loss of their friends and their kin,
and trauma buried deep beneath a mask, now so thin.

They’ve experienced things that just shouldn’t be done,
in the name of freedom, down the barrel of a gun.
The memories will haunt them for the rest of their lives
as they try to return to their children and wives.

But in truth and reality, how can any return
to their previous lives after all they have learned,
no love and compassion; no laughter and smiles
can replace what was lost across many long miles.

They’ve all left behind their innocent souls,
dead and buried in deep desert holes,
leaving them drained and with aching hearts
for a love and a life that has been torn apart.

§

And the troops go marching so silently by
on streets lined with people; cheering and cries
but she turns her back on this painful parade,
wishing time could roll back and her son would be safe.

And there’s rage in her heart for the tyrants who sent
so many to their deaths; so much blood spilled and spent
as they cover their coffers; their spoils of war,
like ghouls in the shadows keeping count of their score.

Rubbing their hands and patting their backs
lying and cheating and covering their tracks.
Another quick round in their wretched games,
the dice from the dealer dishing out death and pain.

The survivors will never sleep soundly again
for the loss and the scars will always remain
The ghosts of their past, ever present and near,
taunting as they sink in depression and fear.

§

And the troops go marching so slowly by
some holding back, some with tears in their eyes
for the nightmare lives on in the world far and wide
where so many remain and so many have died.



*
Written by Darren Scanlon, 24th August 2015.
© 2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Darren Scanlon Aug 2015
Oh deep, dark depression,
my uninvited guest,
the persistence of oppression
is precluding my life’s zest.

The dark before sunrise
of a dawn that just won't break,
suppressed by a thirst for my soul
that only sorrow can now slake.

The wisps that you are weaving
are clouding my damp eyes,
a cold and cloying shroud
that’s covering all that I desire.

A void, with sides so steeply etched
and burning with cold dread,
I’m trembling now with fragile fear
and wondering if I dare tread.

Your shadow wraps me in its arms
to hold me once again,
a old familiar friend
that’s feeding fast upon my pain.

A symbiotic succor
and reluctant shield of sighs
from the turmoil of a life
that turned to tears before my eyes.

And the sleep within my veins
now washes over silent souls,
a mind numbing response
to a desperate, lonely call.

I’m crying out from within the prison
of this decaying fragile frame
and I hide my face behind a smile
from relentless passionate pain.

Oh deep, dark depression,
my uninvited guest,
the darkness you are dealing
leaves my soul with little rest.

Now your fog has engulfed me
to the edges of my world,
I hope and pray that one day soon,
my wings will be unfurled.


Written by Darren Scanlon, 2nd June 2014.
Revised 20th August 2015.
©2014 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Darren Scanlon Aug 2015
How can a lie
make the whole world cry,
yet they claim there is nothing to see,
where nefarious knaves
and the covetous crave
beneath covers so stealthily, free?

No thought for the plebs
as they weave dangerous webs
in a world already complex,
where the sins of the saints
have done nothing but taint,
confuse, deceive and perplex.

To forgive and forget,
is to aid and abet
the demons, content in their ways,
as they deftly defile
and sneeringly smile
at the lies from our earliest days.

To be taught as a child,
there is one who beguiles;
a one that is two and then three,
is a criminal act
and insidious pact
to enslave the ones who were free.

Our children were taught
not to give a clear thought
as to how it was all s’posed to work,
so they trustingly took
from the ones who forsook
and replied with barely a smirk.

They were used and abused,
bewildered, confused,
then cast aside on their quest,
told to get on with life
under threat of the knife,
for the Robed Ones always knew best.

And the tears and the cries
from damp bloodshot eyes,
can be seen again and again
as the torment goes on,
from The Father to Son,
leaving streaks of soul numbing pain.

So when will it end;
when can children depend
on the adults they were once taught to trust?
When will all the lies,
causing deep hidden cries,
be brought to the men who are just?

Let them rattle the cage
with a long concealed rage
and ask those monsters to tell,
how an innocent child
can be fiercely defiled
and yet kneel ‘neath the chime of their bell?

Then once and for all
watch them stumble and fall
as down to the cells they are led,
with long restless nights,
shallow sleep and no rights;
watch them cowering deep in their beds.

Let the bells peal out loud
as we look ‘neath the shrouds
and tally the terrible toll,
of the heart-wrenching cries
of so many sad eyes,
as The Lie is revealed to us all.


Written by Darren Scanlon, 18th June 2014.
Revised 16th June 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Darren Scanlon Aug 2015
If day's had been much brighter
and the west wind far less biting,
with paths sufficiently straighter
and avoiding fruitless fighting.

If clearer thoughts pervaded
with our goals so set in stone,
if the tyrants and dictators
would just leave us all alone.

If the drugs that you are feeding us,
weren’t always quite so strong,
and the roads you’re always building
didn’t have to be so long.

If plans and all the plotting
were for good instead of bad
and the faces that we see
were not so worried or so sad.

If all the wealth and power
was purged from those on high,
or the promises they made
were all for real and not just lies.

If people walked down busy streets
with heads held high and proud,
for torment and oppression
were no longer quite so loud.  

If mankind could live in peace;
health and welfare for all,
fragile elders were helped back up,
not derided if they fall.

If discipline, love and respect
were restored within the masses
and society made more equal
with no need to split the classes.

If once again, deep despair
was a thing of days long past
and the family was the beating heart
that above all else, would last.

If you could only tell me we're free at last;
that the voice of reason heard,
that we had our own identities
and were no longer just part of the herd.

...

We live our lives on ifs and buts
and fear the days to come,
we judge our futures by the past
instead of moving on.

If only we could just let it all go;
just live our lives so free,                    
leave behind all the fear and hate
and then look ahead to see...

...a brighter world of joy and hope
would soon be bursting free,
with love and light abounding
that’s for one and all to see.

Clear blue skies and a warming sun,
filling hearts with desire,
a peaceful world of will and wonder
would be rising from the fires.


*
Written by Darren Scanlon, 10th February 2014.
revised 14th August 2015.
© 2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Darren Scanlon Aug 2015
Gaze into a persons eyes,
far beyond the mask
and wonder at the questions
that you’re too afraid to ask.

Gloriously gazing
into depths of deep emotion,
currents running deep
within a cool and placid ocean.

Dive into the loving soul
of one who gives their all
and marvel at the feelings
that are waiting for the call.

Deliberately diving
into strong rolling waves
risking all you have to give
for a lover, to save.

Drift along on the gentle flow
of loves deep warming spring,
exulting at the warm embrace
that begs your soul to sing.

Dreamily drifting
in waters that refresh
you feel its teasing touch
upon your warm and tender flesh.

Swim far out to distant pools
and reach the hearts horizon,
wells of clear compassion
and a strength that’s so surprising.

Sensuously swimming
and content for evermore,
at peace with the heart and soul
of the one that you adore.

...

Melt into a soul-mates sweet
and tender smiling eyes,
never again will you feel the need
to wonder how or why.

All you see within those pools,
is all you could desire,
together let your souls fly free
and set the breeze on fire.

Let your hearts set the rhythm,
beating beneath the sun,
as songs of love and joy ring out,
new life has just begun.



*
Written by Darren Scanlon, 23rd June 2014.
Revised 11th August 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Darren Scanlon Aug 2015
May the ink that flows
from the nib of my pen,
forever entertain you.
With words of love;
of life and wonder,
like beams of light
through clouds of thunder.

May the blood that flows
through my hand as it writes,
forever reassure you.
With thoughtful verse
and encouraging rhymes,
to ease you through
your challenging times.

May the emotions that flow
from within my soul,
forever help and cheer you.
With a jester’s tears
and a smile so warm,
to raise your heart
with mirthful charm.

May the life that flows
through my weary bones,
forever keep you guessing.
With a change of mood
and provoking phrase's,
my sweetest rewards
are your smiling faces.


Written by Darren Scanlon, 12th March 2014.
Revised 30th March 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Darren Scanlon Aug 2015
Live every day like it was meant to be,
helping all those who want to be free.
Feel the warmth in a genuine smile,
a childish giggle can bridge the miles.

Surround everybody with happy ways,
bask in the heat of the suns warm rays.
A world of love and peace for all,
where we help the ones who trip and fall.

...

I may be a dreamer of fanciful sights
but dreams are better than childish fights.
“Mine’s better than yours”, “But mine is real”,
such childish pettiness in every deal.

Look at the world as it falls apart,
tearful eyes washing aching hearts.
Families decimated; children denied
the right to live at their parents side.

Its time to put away such childish days
and mend the scars left along the way,
see the world for what it could be,
a world of peace, where all are free.

Look at the smile on the face of a child
who no longer has to run and hide.
It'll warm your soul and melt your heart
and I cannot think of a better place to start.

Why do we fight, why do we hate,
why do we lock and defend a gate?
Why can't we live without all the pain,
just put it behind us; we're all the same?

My blood runs deep in fragile veins
but it’s red, just like yours; it's just the same!
Too priceless to be spilled on hot dusty streets,
congealed and dead under cold marching feet.

Life is so precious, regardless of creed,
we should focus on strife and genuine need,
it surrounds us all, wherever we go,
the dead and the dying on crumbling floors.

Look into your heart, beneath all the greed
and help each other so we can all succeed.
Life is for living, for love and for joy,
for everybody, be they girl and boy.

I, for one, am so sick and tired
of all the wars and funeral pyres.
It's time to grow up and open the gate,
welcome the friendship and throw out the hate.


*
Written by Darren Scanlon, 29th July 2014.
Revised 5th August 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
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