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Josiah Wilson Sep 2014
Death, blood, violence, death
Everyone eventually
will stop drawing breath
And the sleep comes to all

Eternal and quiet
We lay in these halls
Waiting, still waiting
For our descendants to call

For when they most need us
We'll rise from this grave
And march forth to battle
Their young lives to save

We'll make our way out
With our axes and swords
Though long we have slept
Now we march forth to war

To cleave heads from necks
And to shed the foe's blood
This day shall be won
As we knew that it would

The enemy will cower
And flee to his home
He'll hide away there
And no more will he roam

Death, blood, violence, death
Our enemies fallen
They sleep without breath
As we were, now they are
Josiah Wilson Aug 2014
Poets seem sad to me
Because we feel more
And we hold on tight
And when we hurt, we write

Our tears fall on paper
In the form of words
Thoughts in scribbled ink
As our hearts begin to sink

Other people's pain fades
And drifts away with time
But a poet's hurt will stay
There on the tear stained page
Not my best, but after reading a lot of poems on here, I wanted to write this.

Also desiderium: an ardent desire or longing; especially :  a feeling of loss or grief for something lost (From Merriam-Webster)
Josiah Wilson Aug 2014
I live for the cut and ****** of battle
I dance to the rhythm of violent death
I listen for the gasping, moaning rattle
Of the fallen man's last, desperate breath

My veins run hot with warrior's blood
My sword sings out the song of war
The foe breaks over me like a flood
How could I ever ask for more?

For when I ****, I feel alive
The death I bring makes my heart beat
Taking a life is what makes me thrive
When covered in blood I feel complete
Josiah Wilson Aug 2014
Quiet clouds drifting across the night sky
The world is quiet, as everyone sleeps
The moon above like a half eaten pie
Majestic and bright, her vigil she keeps
Josiah Wilson Aug 2014
If I come home and find you gone
Then you can't say that I was wrong
I let you go, although it hurt
But you still treat me like I'm dirt

And I have pictures on the wall
Of all the things we used to do
And I'm still waiting for your call
Did those mean anything to you?

You left me
Standing there
Can't you see
I still care?

It's been a month, and I still can't sleep
I think I've fallen down too deep
Lying awake, staring at the floor
Waiting for you to walk through my door

And I had pictures on the wall
Of all the things we did before
Now I'm not waiting for your call
And they're all lying on the floor
Josiah Wilson Jul 2014
Sometimes
I'm tired
And it's not something you can fix
With a hug, a smile, and a kiss

Today
I'm tired
Not physically, but mentally
A pervading thing that drains me

And I
Am tired
Of this tedious mortal coil
Oh, to lay down and cease this toil

I think
I shall
Slip away from this world tonight
Perhaps when I pass, all will be right
Josiah Wilson Jul 2014
Home is a nebulous concept
Fleeting, like a cloud on a windy day
Where you feel most at home
Is where I think you're likely to stay

Some people assign a place as their home
And they never stray too far from that spot
But I feel that it's far too static
And they merely don't give it enough thought

Some people will wander the world
Never settling down in any one place
But I don't think that's for me
I appreciate a familiar face

I can only speak for myself here,
But home is wherever I'm with you
With you by my side I'm content
I hope that you feel this way too

Regardless of where I rest my head
Any place is home to me, if you're there
I can laugh freely, live fully, and relax
Because when I'm with you, we've love to share
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