I hope I never take for granted how deeply I'm loved
Covered in kindness
Chastised and taught with the utmost refinement
Intention is always the kindest for real
And even when pain leaves me utterly mindless
my faith shows your kindness
How gentle the nudges that show that You care
I feel and recall when I question its real

What wondrous love is this?
You didn't resist
The pain, the blood, the shame
...You stayed.
While other wanderers strayed
When I was on the edge of full apostasy
You recovered me
Guided me
Through shadows and streams of light
Through darkness terrors strife and fight
Your rod and staff
That kept me on the path
Have taken me here at last

I was once an RSM.
Not one of us, but one of them.
And if you thought I did not care
Reflect, your moments on the square.
How carefully drilled were you out there?

And did you not feel full of pride
When talking of your job, outside?
And when you thought you should impress,
How careful were you with your dress?

Who do you think it was took care
To make sure that you would, out there,
Function, move, just as we train.
Through any weather or terrain.

To **** or capture, seize and hold - to fight.
Attack, defend, by day, by night?
Not one of us, twas one of them.
That nasty man, the RSM.

In this age when bullying is such an item of concern I cannot help smiling whenever I recall my youth as a boy soldier; then it (bullying) was practiced as an art form, encouraged (I’m sure) by authority for its “character building aspects”. Thus:

When I was in the Army, well, that's Apprentice school,
Inspecting one's belongings, early morning seemed the rule.
And many hours spent beezing boots and ironing, folding, kit.
Taught me to carry on with smile and hate it every bit.
One had to lay one's kit on bed, and sleep by there on floor
To survive next morning's panicked fright begun by crashing door,
And that prancing A/T noncom., his ego, bully led,
Who would burst his way into our World and yell 'Stand by your bed'.

Then we'd all leap to attention, crumpled, ruffled hair.
And our eyes they'd be unseeing though we each knew he was there,
Looking straight ahead, just hoping, as he poked among our stuff,
As he picked up polished boots, that he wouldn't be too rough,
And hurl them through the window or against the fire door,
That he wouldn't scrape his own boot studs along our polished floor.
Of course, these hopes, these dreams of ours, were just pies in the sky.
As well to hope or dream like that, well, pigs might even fly.

Now he's checking button stick, and laces properly square
And the cardboard frame inside your shirt, the one you never wear.
The plimsoles stiffly black which you've polished shiny bright.
The dimensions of your bed block; that counterpane's real tight.
And its corners, every corner, must be folded tight to bed.
If it's not, you'll spend a morning drilling hard outside with Fred.
And now, today, I marvel that our masters thought it right
To let this sneering, snarling, youth on us vent all this spite.

But the proven test of character when all is said and done
Was despite the gruelling life we led, we jeeps, we still had fun.
And my particular little joy, the butter on my bread
Was thinking, when outside of School, I'm going to smash his head.
Some others might have thought the same not that it really matters,
For though I don't recall his name, his memory lies in tatters.
And after all, recalling life, those patterns on the quilt,
Can we be sure that what we write is free of any guilt?

fiber optics  carry the politics
   over the border
the cultural wave  became a thirst
   so empty so plenty
so dumped in the plumb sea
   waste polices and what memory ?
the plump of luxury  we'd wed previous
   hard to flee ourselves
with our self discipline   a worrying absentee

If you ever wish to know who you are,
Look at your company.
See what you will do
When your life falls and you are in agony.

Take a stroll, a place or two
See how your body will hold
The way you act and talk;
Show your disciplined mold.

You don't need to look for progress
Your result will show it.
Your comprehension of hard times,
Tell the mindset you've built.

You thoughts and ideas
Embrace the way you talk,
How you treat others,
Or even the way you walk

And in no time should you need,
An appraiser or critic.
All you need is a mirror and mind,
And an idea to stick.

Place me
On a waterfalls edge
              Above fifty fathoms
To be humbled
With my aggression
One step in front
At arms length
At the distance it finds
                         Its fulfilment
Then from one step behind
I’ll gaze through aggression
            To witness the point
            From where discipline dissolved

What's discipline?
It's walking on your own two feet,
It's taking movement into your own hands.

I will walk,
What if it's windy?
I will walk,
What if it's raining?
I will walk,
What if fire pours from the sky and the roads turn to ice?
I will walk.