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Gaye Sep 2015
He was the ‘revealer of light’
Oracles he read, forecasted future,
Time moved, rustic life stood still
"Look back and see, there is change."
There’s no trial left
The deity acquired the ****** body.
Predictions are vague, he cried in pain
And he danced to his unshakable faith.
The God revealed!
The divine and man in a union of its own,
Patrons wept and asked for blessings.
Serpent’s crown over God’s head-
Shone in the dark light, his golden breast
And pointed teeth, sharp as arrows-
Pierced the patrons, they collapsed in devotion.
The dead hero arose with Godliness
He is God, his blood is divine.
There is change, there is change!
The drums arose and it stroke bold,
Patrons cried in religious zeal
The God plunged himself into the bonfire
He reincarnated.
Born again to die again! Born again to die again!
There is no change! There is no change!
Ignatius Hosiana Jul 2015
So all of them knelt down to pray
For their comrades who were gone too soon
In the soggy swamp where they lay

Weaker and weaker they grew, day after day
Cause battle had intensified throughout June
So all of them knelt down to pray

They wished to rewind time least to May
With the rhythm of their Heartbeat out of tune
In the soggy swamp where they lay

Clouds had cast a thick canopy allowing no single ray
To touch their bloated bellies threatening to balloon
So all of them knelt down to pray

From a distance they heard a Donkey in horror bray
Sending shock-waves through the battered platoon
In the soggy swamp where they lay

They'd agreed to wait for aid on a tray
'Course help would come but they needed it soon
So all of them knelt down to pray
In the soggy swamp where they lay
Niamh used it, so I decided to give it a try because I like the style
Thanks Niamh :))
Mike Essig Jun 2015
on belatedly hearing of an old friend's death*

A simple 18-year-old
Pennsylvania kid.

He volunteered
to lead a patrol
down a heavily
mined road.

Gifts were exchanged.

He gave them
half a left leg
and a whole
right foot.

They gave him a
shining silver star
in a beribboned box.

A few moments
of congratulations
before whiskey, drugs
and homelessness ensued.

The hero's life.

Now he is dead,
the medal long pawned.

Life can be merciless
even for the brave.

No part of this story
means anything.

  ~mce
Auss Mar 2015
Fire!
Seven shots sound
Seven shots heard

They lower you into the soil
You always passed on through each toil

Fire!
Seven shots sound
Seven shots heard

Mother cries into my shoulder,
I look away as i lose my brother

Fire!  
Seven shots sound
Seven shots heard

A heroes burial you deserve,
This nations life you did preserve.
Thank you to the soldiers and their families for sacraficing the tranquil illusion of peace that blinds us to the cost of war

— The End —