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I hear the low rumble of force and fear,
the distance closing soon to be upon me,
reigning down to ravage the landscape,
wrenching the very life from all and sunder.
I steel myself in fading moments of calm,
connecting with my soul in brief stillness,
knowing this could be the last time
I may know myself, to feel my vulnerability,
to see and remember those I love so dear,
and those who dearly love and behold me.
I feel my heart fall at the starting post
as fear and force grip me in stark contrast,
I have little choice as the burgeoning moment
paces itself ever onward with reality stamping
in my face; vying for strength, for cowardice to
disperse and clear the path for the oncoming
wagon of battle, to free the world from this
tyrant and wash ourselves clean of war and woe.
Stale air creeps upon me, the familiar smell
of bodies gaping with wounds, of blood
spattered stains upon the earth, of tears
and sweat mingled with the raging war cry,
to see others silently yet fearfully steady themselves
before the terrifying spectacle that besets.
I know you as my enemy and must remain
in this mindset to stand me strong to do my duty,
but yet I want to shake your hand and know you
as we are the same in our order of the day,
without choice we are here to settle the score,
not between one another but for the bigger
wheel that turns with freedom as its epitaph.
We will not be defeated despite the loss of life,
even the threat of connecting with our final hours.
I shriek the battle call and find myself running
toward the firing line, caught up in the melee
of deathly combat that finds itself torn apart
amid the frenzy of body upon body,
that cannot allow boundaries their space,
the message and focus to slay the foe.
I strike out with physical force into flesh
that tears apart with ease of human vulnerability,
then feel a force within that flails me to the ground,
my mind and body hitting the dirt and filth,
face sinking, forced into the mixture of ****** mud.
I wonder, is this my final moment absorbed into darkness,
becoming unaware of the continued chapter around me,
knowing not if I will survive or be at deaths door.
My duty is done and those around wear the poppy
of remembrance, of courage and ultimate sacrifice,
allowing their freedom to be continued and realised,
and I wear the medal of honour but reap the scars,
to live another day that will never dawn the same,
passing those that do not know my wounds that persist.
Nonetheless I am lucky, given the chance to live my life,
to feel the embrace, skin upon skin of those I love.
If we opened up and delved into
ourselves, what would we see?
A miniature mockery tight lipped,
shedding the creases of yesterday

Slip away and it will catch you, in indefinite poses, the latch key sapping, the juice subsiding, no generosity searching for you if you will

Running from respite to find peace,
a wail in a churchyard strictly rigid,
doesn't recognise my wide eyes, arriving on time deliberately stamping
I wrote my soul on a tea towel,
one I’d dried up with earlier,
the words smudged into the fabric,
absorbing my insides into the folds

Earlier it had met me, like a minder,
drying the crockery of my tears
as they ran the race of their lives,
soaking the top I’d carefully chosen

only earlier that day when a smile had
gathered pace and filled the emptiness,
completed the gaps of the worn out
in block capitals, hoping I’d notice

Who are you in the given shadows,
so unrecognisable in your black gown,
you placed the shawl over your head,
your neck gathering the undulating folds…..
A spot appeared, under normal circumstances
I wouldn't pay it mind...I almost did not but for
the tight whispers, when secrecy staggered across my path,
I couldn't keep track and quite suddenly disappearing,

I'm left standing and staring, a blank spot, like a
dark space, a hole without a filling; foot forward
I filled the space, my feet were there before I blinked,
on the other side, unsure of the journey in between,

I felt the breath of sweat tracing my back,
flooding my insides with dread of unknown origin,
worse than the eye of a tornado, shocking me.
A split in the moment, when seconds shattered into now,

drowning time to the bottom of forever; the buzzing
in my ears drilled into me, producing a spot felt, a spot now
visible, spreading somewhere within, digging its way through skin,
through muscle, bones scattered to one side and the pace

to reach tarmac was furious, would not forgive, the spot unidentifiable, remained, navigating a way through
until reaching a dead end; wanting to turn back proved
impossible, the spot had filled, red, ****** red
The day produced uncertainty,
wet slashes, whipped wind
battered the summer sun, grey misty
breath coughed then fell silent.

Teasing, the sun sprinkled a spun layer,
found pretty pockets to blink through.
Swallowing hard the sky shook
it's blue blanket, spreading wide,

seemingly inviting the sun to sit alongside,
to reminisce; a fine day ripened,
exhaled across the ocean,
breathing in the ebb and flow.

Up high the sun towered it's flaming
glory, chanted a rhythmic rhyme of radiance.
I celebrated, hugging its splendour,
felt it warm me to my bones.
A round black hard button pressed itself at the walls
of my stomach, churned and mixed a cocktail,
a shaking mass of temporary fight or flight. It was
not the menu I was hoping to greet this morning.

I sidled the park pathway in search of fresh air,
cramped from living with wooden emotions, without
release, not fit for sharing, let alone thinking second
by second, continually mocking like seagulls swirling

overhead spitting at the passers-by, grabbing at leftovers
in their wake. I soft footed the hard surface, heading
away from my mind, it followed; pulling punches.
The bike, quiet, sprung past, knocked at

my reverie and temporarily subjected me to the outside.
I hated that second; how it tripped me up, inviting itself.
I hadn’t asked, it hadn’t replied, it happened, I groaned
and felt the hard grind as the button pushed deeper.

The relentless gusty air clutched at my skin, spilling tears
onto my cheeks, catching at my silent lips. I did not draw
a hand up to scrub them clean, it wasn’t worth the effort,
almost daring them to be seen; for someone to look…..

help me…..
Taking a stance, strong as a mountain,
would you hear me, carried on echoing
shoulders; silent are the drums of indifference,
that fall on deaf ears of invisibility

Trembling unnoticed, a tightrope vibrating
with unseen footsteps; a bird flawlessly glides
catching the drift of words on a wire,
follows its winged direction to a fuller

climate of interesting twitter and leaves
me speechless. Impressions of sound drown loudly,
parallel pronunciations of an endearing nature
cough up smarter sentences, those that are heard

on street corners fighting for listeners choosing
to pause and grant the unheard an audience
to be proud of.  I bow to their fame in that one
moment, devouring their words, sifting the debris
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