From day one, from the moment I was given one, my compass has had a faulty magnet Why was that written into my script? And why didn't I get a say in any of it? Shouldn't I have been given a manuscript? Explaining, for one thing, why I have to combat life and everything that comes with it? How would you go about it? Can't I just shrug it off, maybe let some shiit slip? My path doesn't always need to be backlit Certainly not by the ember of my burnout that fell from orbit The punishment never fit the crime but I still submit that most of the claims are, in themselves, counterfeit But I didn't quit in a panic Not every life is a good investment So I made the corporate decision to forfeit Call it an early retirement The more fitting term is a forced exit
Box Off The black box that tells of approaching enemy missiles is turned off The black box that jams enemy missiles it turned off The black box that dispenses radar jamming chaff is turned off The black box that launches infra-red flares is turned off The black box that gives out false position locations is turned off The black box that plots enemy defence locations is turned off The black box that steers a course round enemy radars is turned off The black box that sees enemy anti-aircraft guns is turned off The black box that should save our jet and our lives is turned off We are now dead and our warplane is now destroyed The black box should’ve been turned on
Race 2 Same old **** going down Graves of men now silent Nowt much happening here Just dead bodies buried After being riddled blasted Russians killed by Ukrainians Prisoners mostly of Wagner Sentences cut lives now cut Politicians bathe in blood They had quite a run Still race in Part 2 Race 1 was a loss No victory only death Plus injuries and ruin Battlefield injuries extreme It's fine there's time So much time here Satan has all the time In the world Wait and see
Eventful War Book 2 Nick Armbrister and other writers
Heave **! Your cry astounds Flummoxing your enemies ashore Debonaire you brandish pistol and sword Cutting down resistant scallywags
Thy treasure shall be mine! You dash haphazardly between slashes Excitement and *** course through Fueling you to victory
Imposing is thy stance! Booted foot on stack of cannon ***** Actioned-packed adventure As you reave and raid the seas
Your adventure keeps me alert But my ship's an iron beast of land I think of daring combat And your exploits give me hope
I load my rifle in hot anticipation Prepared to write my own adventure The giant steel hatch lowers And hot iron rips through me
My adventure ends prematurely My *** is without excitement and masks pain A hospital bed now serves as my galleon Your book by my bedside, untouched
This poem was inspired by 3 months of laying in a hospital, as I had major surgery on my back, kidney, shoulder. It was a terrible experience that I would never want anyone to share. I remember being so ******* reading books about glamour and adventure. Rarely does adventure leave you without scars and war is far from glamourous. War is hell.
Am I ever awake anymore Or do I ever dream at all This war-torn landscape that is my mind finds no rest I watch the clock tick by A scout in infinite cubicle farms One thousand, four hundred and forty Instances of repetition My numbed sense of excitement tingles as the clock reaches five Ticking by each second turned to minute turned to gray What happiness do I derive from completion of work I sit sullenly watching sitcoms through red-rimmed eyes I don't think I'll sleep again I don't know if I have ever woken up My reality is fading out to textured grays Maybe I will fade out too But night turns to day turns to ash As I slowly count away One thousand, four hundred and forty minutes left of consciousness
After a tragic deployment to Afghanistan, I struggled with insomnia pretty badly. I went weeks without getting any measurable quantity of sleep. I spent what felt like years on my couch trying to slow down my racing mind. It took a long time to adjust back to normal.