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  Jul 2014 Digital Asylum
Joe Cole
I gaze upon my comrades, at the places where they lay
A young man lies beside me with blood upon his face
“I can’t see you friend” he says “because my wound has left me blind
But I beg you to write the words I say and send them to my wife”

“My darling I have left you but I leave you with these words
I love you now and for ever, hold our children close for me
It should never have ended in this way
In a fight for liberty

I am not alone as I depart this life
Many friends lie with me, here on every side
I know not what we fought for or why we had to die
I hope we did not die in vain but I know not the reason why

A young man writes these words for me but I cannot see his face
He will tell you darling in my death there was no disgrace
With my comrades I fought bravely but we never had a chance
We stood and faced the enemy without a backward glance

I can hardly speak the words, blood has filled my mouth
My new friend here will bury me facing to the south
I am scared my darling I did not want to go
I must leave you soon for a place I do not know”

I wrote the words for that young man with the his blood upon my hands
For I’m the one who killed him as he made his last stand
Did I hate him? No for he was my countryman
We fought because a civil war had split our once united land

Yes I killed him dearest sister in the cruel and ****** fight
I would rather it had been me because you are his wife
Brother fighting brother, father fighting son
Has our god deserted us, has the evil won

This fight between the north and south, between the blue and grey
Will god ever forgive me for what I did this day
I will bury him facing south as he asked for it to be
I hope that when it is my time they’ll do the same for me.
  Jul 2014 Digital Asylum
Joe Cole
On this day 70 years ago they stormed across the sand
Boys of many nations to remove the tyrants hand
Heros all those boys so young who shed their blood for us
In that ****** fight for freedom

Across the sand they struggled neath a hail of shot and shell
Never glancing backwards as around them comrades fell
Fear was in their eyes, terror in their hearts
Many never made it and twas on foreign sand they died

Yes they died to give us the freedom that we have got this day
They died to free the world, for us they made the play
Boys from ever walk of life crossed the beaches there
Office clerks and farmers and the ones who cut our hair

Yes they were heroes all who gave their lives for us
But lets not forget the few who made it possible
The girls who made the shells, the men who built the tanks
They were the unsung heroes
They have also have earned our thanks

Without their dedication to the task they had in hand
Many more would have lost their lives on that shell torn blood stained sand
They to can hold their heads up high, they knew they did their bit
In bringing freedom to the masses when they broke the tyrants grip
Afternote... nearly all 4,400 allied soldiers died on those beaches 70 years ago today
  Jul 2014 Digital Asylum
Joe Cole
Just sitting there last night by the fire watching the sunset over the trees
Another pleasant evening,  a cool breeze, peaceful.  Or was it?
A few dark clouds overhead,  they'll come to nothing
But then....Patter patter patter down came the rain
So what, I've experienced worse
So into my shelter snug and warm, a little rain will cause no harm
But then came the wind, not just any wind but a tearing screaming gale blasting the rain with the force of a bullet.  Tearing at the skin, numbing the flesh
My firepit now a pool of ***** grey sludge,  cooking kit scattered far and wide
OK, drop the sides so I'm watertight,  one last warming scotch then I'm in for the night
Close my ears to that wild banshee screaming out there in the dark
0545am
The wind has lessened but still the rain is pouring down,  a muddy swamp where was once hard ground
The gentle stream where I keep my beers cold now a raging torrent of ***** brown water
(I never lost my beers though)
I have a routine I rarely miss, a hot mug of tea after taking a ****
And I won't be beaten by a small summer storm
So into a dry bag where I keep some stuff,  a few bits of wood and tumble dryer fluff
Between the roots of a tree a fire soon takes hold, on goes a *** and soon steam arose
On goes a pan with some bacon and beans

And then, out came the sun

To be caught in a storm like that isn't much fun but it's all part of the wild camping game
  Jul 2014 Digital Asylum
Joe Cole
I don't care what you write
You might be the worlds greatest litary artist
You might be the worst
But it doesn't matter to me
All thats matters is that you write
Words are precious symbols of us
But none are more precious than your words
  Jul 2014 Digital Asylum
Joe Cole
Wow, yes I have a following
232 to be precise
Does that make me great
No
Yes sure it makes me feel good
I see so many writers here
16, 17 years old with so few followers
Where then is the life blood of this great site?
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