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Nathan Squiers Jun 2014
They flap in the breeze just like streamers:
The strips of flesh and ribbons of guts.
All the residual chunks of the screamers;
All the bits of the ******* and *****.

They flap in the breeze just like streamers:
The memories of all that they said.
They crushed all the hopes of the dreamers,
So who cares that they ended up dead?

They flap in the breeze just like streamers:
The lingering shreds of remorse.
A legacy built atop skulls, ribs, and femurs;
A mission of evil I've come to enforce.

I, like mankind, have lost all control.
I now side with the sinners and schemers.
You ask of the tattered remains of my soul?
Why, they flap in the breeze just like streamers.
A little diddy 'bout a dark & demented anti-hero. Found myself contemplating a new comic book series as I jotted this. Let's see what comes of it ^_^
Joe Wilson Mar 2014
To a war that they’d never understand
Were sent men who hadn't a clue
Because men behind doors make decisions
While the dying’s for me and for you.

So thousands went off into battle
To places that they’d never known
Over the top and shot down to die
In fields where red poppies have grown.

Is there ever a point to this mayhem
I struggle to find one, I do
History'll record that I stayed here
So it matters not, but to a few.

©JRW2014
One in a group of poems recognising the centenary of WWI

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