All armies are the same
Publicity is fame
Artillery makes the same old noise
Valor is an attribute of boys
Old soldiers all have tired eyes
All soldiers hear the same old lies
Dead bodies always have drawn flies

Two ducks float seamlessly, side by side
leaving nothing but a few ripples in the mind.
Which twists and turns, much like a helpless Fern
floating down, from the tree which never learnt.

When will the ripples be gone, what will there be?
Only stillness, maybe tranquility?
Will that too play in the mind
Of Circe's dream, caught like a riptide.

When will we float side by side?
like two heroes buried at sea.
If it's you and me; I'll be
proud. "As proud and punch"
If punch could float, like a cloud.

i’d dug my nails hard,
through his cheek, i missed his eye
*****, he grunted, through the mouthful of blood,
he spat it out at me, the mouthful of blood,
missed but i soon had my own.

front tooth gone, lucky it’s a fake.
the stitches reopened, cleft lip he told,
people. it made sense to them, they
hadn’t known me before.
confident, pretty, happy.

everything you’d expect. he says,
you look no different, but he
can’t see inside. he can’t see
my thoughts, or the cries.
they happen far away.

They happen in the young girl,
the one before. Crying about
what will happen,
To the older me.

The anger I have
Is felt by many. Left out to dry
In a world that’s nearly as tough,
as I was in my time.
I fought for a living, some say pretty good at it too.
Too old now though.
Since last time, things have changed.
A lot has changed:
Illness and obsession runs lives, the drive and passion
Are for different things.
The 49 year old comeback, Don making
Champions.
Money.
That would be nice, to be cared for
by those who wanted what you earned,
took it.
Too many punches taken, not enough thrown, even fewer landed to
stay new
I hear the 10 count, I am done.

They walk up, hand in hand
Towards the top, with wind and rain,
Fear is high, they sit, they talk.
They know what will happen, just courteous conversation.
He twists, she turns,
Opposite directions for the first time since July 3rd.
Like cogs in a broken watch.
Time stops for them, no more counting
One year, Three months she says, nearly more?
Is that the rain or tears that smother their face,
From here, it’s too hard to see.
She looks out on the Sound;
The wind howls and the rain beats over what is left,  
Nature never stops, why are they?
He cries now, his face shows the pain
Cannot suffer it anymore, he’s tried for too long.
I watch as I pass, spectating the commotion.
I’ve been with them the whole time, walking behind them,
Past the Citidel and through the ***.
Then I remember, That Man Is Me.

Rat a tat, tat,
Rat a tat, tat,
The sound of a Gatling gun,
****, this isn't very fun.

Mindless violence still continues,
Even after the war to end all others.
(Armoured cars still drive around,
keeping peace with guns?)

Who is the enemy and who wants to be
free?
Fighting their fight, let's see how that helps - when they bomb your country. More murders and plans of attack, keep the dice spinning?

Who's turn is it now? Did you just 'pass go'?