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B C Stan May 15
Sit close
Listen with your soul
not just your ears
No book gets it right

You ask me,
Were you one of the good ones?
There are no good ones
Only those who bled slower

They’ll call it justice
A stand
A reckoning
A cleansing
Our last shot at salvation

They’ll dress it in slogans,
wrap it in flags
They’ll give us names
Patriots, Rebels,
Loyalists, Traitors
But all of them fall apart
when the guns begin to sing

Your uncle...
the one you never met...
he looked at me
eyes wide, afraid
But I didn’t care
He wore the wrong color
And that was that

Remember your grandfather
remember these hands,
how they shook,
how they never stopped shaking.

Don’t let them hand you a weapon
and call it purpose
Don’t swallow lies
and call it reason

There is nothing civil
about a civil war
Nothing brave
in killing your own
No valor
in tearing your country in two
There is nothing civil in a civil war
Dave M Apr 30
Spring creeps softly through the Shires in this year of our Lord, 1651.
Will peace ever reign in this blighted land? T'is nine long years since War began.
A year ago, they killed a King, and brother still fights brother;
Cromwell still sequesters all; and plots they yet uncover.
The Drums of War will sound again this year,
of that, I have no doubt;
so, roll me in your arms, my love, and blow the candle out.

Before this ranting Yorkshire Squire usurped a Crown, and sparked a War,
we rode out in the dewy fields and laughed, and loved; alas, no more.
The only riders - troops of horse, with pistols cocked, and flashing blade,
with caps of iron, and coats of Buff; compatriots are hanged, and slayed,
Still, none in Whitehall cry "Enough of this!"
'Nor will; I have no doubt;
so, roll me in your arms, my love, and blow the candle out.

Last Autumn, when the Flag was raised far north in Dunbar town,
when Leslie fought with Monckton; the slaughter was profound.
Three thousand dead, ten thousand trapped; many of those to be
as Traitors to the Commonwealth, swung on Tyburn tree.
Good King Charles is marching south, but Cromwell follows close,
with Hamilton and Lambert to engage the Royal Host
at Worcester, where we all may die;
of that, I have no doubt;
so, roll me in your arms, my love, and blow the candle out.

I have fought at Edgehill, and at Chalgrove, in the Vale
of Whitehorse; and at Lansdown, where our courage did not fail.
And I have fought at Cheriton; but, yet, on Naseby field,
struck by a Roundhead musket ball; my stand, I had to yield.
Yet, you, my love, have stood with me, have stitched my wounds,
have held me close
through bitter nights of pain and fear; to leave again would hurt the most.
I must gird on my sword again;
t'is soon; I have no doubt;
so, roll me in your arms, my love, and blow the candle out.
This poem; (the first of four, set during the English Civil War) concerns an incident at the Battle of Worcester, where a certain young Royalist Captain of Horse, John Fitzwarren; with two of his Troopers, held off the Parliamentarian Essex Militia for some two hours at the Eastern Sidbury gate. Eventually overwhelmed, all three were put to the sword.
Perhaps, these were his thoughts, prior to joining his Regiment.
Watch the moon disconnect with Earth
Watch the waves fall back
Watch as the waves seem more aggressive
They're squiggly
They're hurt
Now the ocean is hurting the others
Making the others suffer from its own consequences
Swallow
Drown
Death
After hours of torture
The waves fall back
Revenge has failed apon itself
Toxins is now flooding
Killing

****!  Karma!
ehehehe
kevin Mar 27
This isn't the right generation
Luckily I'm not coming back
I had that discussion with my family
When I was ten
Forty acres and a mule
You get the whole kingdom
Of Ireland's stones
For the king and queen
Of American ***
Those are prisons of war
You get to learn from my writing
To build world peace
For the next time
Miss Masque Feb 3
I wouldn't change who you are
for anything.
You could never be anyone else
and I wouldn't want you to be.

That's what he said to me.
My love, my hope, my fluidity.

There is a stillness
In the deepest
part of the night
When everyone
has gone to sleep:
even the cat.
I can hear her
dreaming
in the silence.

Stretched out paw
She reaches out,
Knowing she's safe.
Knowing she's loved.
Knowing she will
Never be abandoned.

I changed to get here
Under the heavy blanket
of eleven thousand nights
of stars.

Did you see what they saw?

Why do you think it's red?

The silk I drape you with,
I forged in heat,
In fire. Blisters,
Boiling flesh
Give way to
Soft hands
&
timeless debts.

I will never stop
Struggling,
Reaching
Working
For Humanity
to be able to
Live Abundantly.
Live Fully.

Be in the Moment--
Wish I could erase the fear--
Bombs in the building next door,
Where the next meal will come from,
Medicine shortage,
Families torn apart,
Lives gone in seconds,
Contaminated water.

When someone reaches their
Hand out in a gesture of faith,
Of hope, of desperation,
Meet them with kindness.
Meet them with warmth.
Even when you don't have a thing to give
in material, it is immaterial
To offer a slice of the humanity
We have all been gifted.

Not all of us are safe,
Or have the comfort of love,
And many have been abandoned
By family, by society, by anyone
that feels
it is hard to look at someone
that you find pity for.

Look. That is where you will find
the deepest expression of humanity.

It's in the purrs.
It's in the exaltation
of the burden.
My people struggle.
But we have *******
Been. Through. It.
Let me take it on.
We know how to
*******. Thrive.
In. Struggle.

I swim with weights.
I have trained for this.
You wanna go toe to toe?
Let's ******* dance.
Be strong when you can be. Show your vulnerability to your social support when you are weak so they can be honored by it and meet you where you're at and that feeling amplifies the joy on the other side by sheer force of opposites. Push, challenge, dissent. Be willing to struggle for the right thing. Be willing to stand up and say "No" when you don't agree with the status quo.
Anais Vionet Mar 2024
Hamlet, sharpen your sword of trust, for Macbeth is surely waiting.

The specter of ‘Civil war’ stalks the land and the ghosts of senseless violence, so long docile, have come to hollow-eyed attention.

Our cauldron was filled with innocence, as the ever-thirsty succubi require, the glory of war is being shaken, not stirred and the betrayal will be served as quick and cold as steel.

#chefskiss
Inspired by Kurt Philip Behm‘s poem “Shiloh.”
Svode Mar 2022
I feel like Christian Bale
in that one movie
"Am I... the American ******?"

the emic and etic personas
collapse in pantomime
like how the Donald destroyed democracy and civil rights for four years.

I feel like the average citizen
who has no choice but to vote
so that I don't get deported once again
Wilkes Arnold Aug 2021
Lincoln died today
He hustled to an early grave
After patience bore the pain of hell
One final bullet to his dismay
Robbed him of the end he craved
Not of time or the sullen knell
But the kiss of a dagger in his worn hand
A battle lost and a battle won
A perdition purged a new ring rung
He's left this hollowed land
Consecrated by blood and gun
And travels now to songs unsung
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