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Wilkes Arnold Jan 2022
Have you ever been to Nomansland?
It's full of smiles, laughter, dread and dearth
Of any repercussions
If you're Russian or a serf
On a wave that leads to everything
Tho nothing you want first.
Come on down to Nomansland
And quench your nagging thirst

Tired of your burden, want to rest your restless mind?
We have trenches, dumps, and valleys
To poor thoughts of every kind
Relax, space out, while those thoughts race away
That's right
Shut up
Sit down
You have no choice but to stay!

Forget your problems
Lose your worries
Ignore your friends
And family too!
Let your pain slip away
With your ecstasy in suit!
Look at everything, see nothing, through your eyes of faded hue!
That's right
Little lost soul ...
...there is no real you.

Once, in a stupor,
Long ago, through the grime,
Another came knocking here
Searching for their mind.
They were blissful,
Vacant,
A customer served full,
But for one little thought
That rattled round their skull

"I want... it... back."
Back?!
They must have lost their head!!!
We examined it extensively:
It was perfectly braindead
Everything in order, we couldn't figure out
Where the clanging came from
When we jiggled them about

No matter, don't worry
It's of no concern to you,
We're usually successful
When we stir brains into stew.
Just relax to the ditty of our unlive band
I'm Noman by the way,
Welcome to my land!
Well, yes, she and also me were the unforeseen ones who used to walk past crossroads,
with the gladly given hands unmistakably glued together, but that was then, or should we say, way back then, when everything
still smelled intimately of hawthorn, red roses and valerian,
and, all of this in a sharp contrast to the stench that spread
the unrequested farewell, as it was unbearable in fact, even a little comparable maybe to a too heavy box filled with precious metal on the poor back of the lame, as you could call it also something
like an all but proverbial mistreatment that split the notion
of a misunderstood love in half, as it even mirrored what happened to that innocent elm in the forest of life, where a zealous candlelight that spoke of love was suddenly put out
by the wrong hands, but, yes, it was perhaps the hand
of this or the holy hand of another God that forgot us not in syllables of the un-blue,
when we see, now, how we possibly made it through...in the ending story of another me
and another you...


So, I guess nothing is actually what it appears to be,
as sometimes, yes, sometimes one better doesn't has to try
to believe in something like a realistic reality,
"unless very briefly, but in a fleeting moment",
a murmuring voice spoke softly to me,
when I saw how an outcast nomansland became the for us, by pulverizing time, elected destiny
in the no longer waltzing and worn down cliches
of a 'to be or a not to be' in a Shakespearean way
when the love that was ours slowly leaped as, yes, then, we both saw how it went away~
Steven Boston  Sep 2020
Warfare
Steven Boston Sep 2020
Barbed wire intrinsic thought
in the trenches forever caught
wearily wraps conscious care
in nomansland laying bare
bullet grazes flesh is torn
tear gas erupts heavens mourn
battle of malicious mind
bayonets cross the ghastly grind
ensnared in perpetual prison
doubtful fear rambunctiously risen

— The End —