He was young, and by that hardly
able to shave, they thought he
was arrogant, not brave beyond his years.
   But he knew that sacrifice for what
                     was just and right.

He sailed the sea, throwing up overboard
                    feeding the fishes.


Never taking the bus, young ones
crying missing home.
But don't take their tears for cowards,
                they fell like petals fighting a worth.

But for him,  he'd rather walk showing worth.
           His mother, she cried,
bro, staying strong while I'm away.
Taking the burden of home cos too younger to follow.
He'd said if I fall,
                                    know I did it for us not me.

Poppy was on my chest, as we fought,
       We  had three brothers, they smoked
and joked but anyone from the other side played us,
                         they'd put across in his chest.
Dead but respected, no one buried but anger
                                                and respect blurred.

We lost henry to a ******, couldn't  bury,
just put a petal on his chest.
   We teared up, as we walked on,
took his angel out clipped their wings
    they ain't taking anyone with them.

Henry earned his petal, as we looked back,
         but we walked on.
Across broken buildings and bodies,
   we respected everyone we passed.

Sign of the cross, move on friend
                   and enemy you're at rest.
We carried our guilt of henry over the hill,
                            but then an injured soldier.
Delerium had taken hold, Allen got a knife
between the ribs, pierced his heart before his
next beat he was dead.

The soldier crying thinking he'd saved us,
    Allen had a tear falling on his dismayed features.
                  Edwin punched him in the face,
but we held him back.
            He gathered his composure noting that
this wasn't his fault.

We said thank you for your sacrifice, and he pasted,
                            Edwin gave him a swift kick.
  What he'll not feel it, I know the confusion
but Allen was his friend.

We put a petal on his chest closed his eyes
so he didn't see the rest of the war
                       with eyes wide open.

After this, I and Jeffery were called back for the
the final push, on the beach of gold and blood.
  We looked at each other and shook hands as
                       the boards fell, we ran, I must rewrite
this as we were the first to land and Jeffery was
the first to fall, he was my last brother, I just stopped.

They were treading upon me, but all I could see was my
friend's smile, grinning at deaths touch, proud he was here.
Seeing the fear and pride in his eyes as a single
tear fell. I picked myself up and put a petal on him.

Thinking this was my last day, a petal left on my
chest if I fell who would put one upon me.
   Nevertheless, we won the day. I have scars.
              physical and mentality I lost a lot.

Got home, saw my girl she was grown up,
             happy that my love waited for me,
We lived a long life, we had more than one
         who gave us pride.

2020 I lived through another century,
    Standing proud, as I lift a palm straight
                                            to my brow.
A single petal still standing proud,
                 As I gaze I see three figures approach,
pinning the other three petals upon my chest.

They raise there hands and swipe,
                          you respected our fallen.
And on every petal was a message and a name.
     You gave everything to them and now we give it back.


I cried tears as when I looked beside me,
                        my friends were there smiling.

And we stood to attention,
                              for our lives and deaths.
We saw what was and the sacrifice of what
                           we all paid the price for,


                                                          ­     Freedom

She dreams of the ideal man,
   but the suitor idolizes death in his soulful slumber.
She takes care of herself,
   though she cannot bestow her beauty to impressionists.
She falls in love,
   yet her delusional passions seethe her in disarray.
She finds new friends,
   but a ******* of overzealous poison tarnishes the relationship.
She cooks for more than one;
   ghosts accompany the reserved empty chairs.
She re-models her home,
   driven to impress; however, she is the only one impressed.
She longs for attention,
   craving for a taste of wanting to be loved.
She is she,
   and she is her own canvas.

you think attention is love,
that's why you suffer so deeply.

I stroll and startle

a few birds, I am startled –


by their fluttering.

We feel exceptionally well in your care
with or without your attention