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MSunspoken Feb 2020
Tread my paths
-calm and collected

Lose yourself
-your mind, your presence

Open your arms
-I’ll  guide you to my heart

Memorize the past
-mold it with the present

Remember me
-lost but not forgotten

Cherish this
-time is constantly fleeting

Leave me then
-a reminder of a heart’s distant beating

I’ll see you again
-right when you least expect it
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
-in honor of Matthew Hennigan, Vinson Adkinson and everyone else who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their brothers and sisters in arms, you are missed every day

Oh, sweet empty mountain
in your quiet majesty,
Overwatching flowing rivers
meandering through a hushed valley,
And the sparsely growing forest
littered with ruins of times forgot,
In this silent, flowing landscape
for which many nations have fought

Oh, the things you've seen oh mountain,
from triumph to betrayal
To lovers' first awkward kiss,
and children battling so playful
And in waves, you saw it change,
one year peace, the next year tense
You have witnessed arc of all mankind,
each and every sad offense

You witnessed the day when they sat
upon your steep marble mountainside,
Wrapped in ratty tan blankets,
whose purpose was to let them hide
And fingers lay on naked triggers,
muzzles pointed to the road
Cloaked men carried bandoliers,
so their gunners needn't reload

And in the early dawn of light,
the first 'crack' echoed off your side
As a battlefield erupted,
the roaring of a violent fight
Oh, you ancient hunk of rock,
overseeing all as many died
In the distance could you hear,
the faint sound as we all cried?

Rest in peace you glorious *******
I love you Matty and Vinny
I'll see you again one day
Can't really talk about this one.
Eryri Jan 2020
Let the unimaginable be imagined
Let the flame burn in memory of the flames
Let the living live for the dead
So the truth of the dead can live on.
Redrafted
Eryri Jan 2020
The unimaginable that must be imagined
The flame in memory of the flames

Let the living live for the dead
So the truth of the dead can live on.
Holocaust Memorial Day
Eternity speaks
will not be silenced
by shatter of glass nor falling rain

Eternity sees
will not be blinded
by flash of light nor midnight blackness

Eternity hears
will not be deafened
by screech of tire nor mourning's cry

Each fading pulse drops as rain on Eternity's Ear

Eternity waits
as I continue by
driving on to life undeserved

Eternity listens
to my stolen beats of heart
and borrowed years

while there, in that timeless place,
for two hearts now silent
Eternity sings
Sofia Chavez Dec 2019
Everytime I pass the street, my eyes linger on the pedestrian bridge.

It's fairly new.

And wouldn't be there if it wasn't for what happened at the corner.

A woman and her baby, or maybe she was looking after this baby, they were standing, waiting to cross, when a car took a turn too sharp, too fast, too whatever, and the baby was gone.

For months, maybe years after, the street lamp was covered in stuffed animals.

But now there's nothing but my memory of a baby I never met and a bridge I'm glad exists.

I wonder what her name was.

I wonder if anyone thinks about her when they cross the bridge.
Thoughts I have while driving through the town I grew up in
Shin Nov 2019
I hope they sift my name through the ashes
and remember it as gentle and kind.
I hope to God they crack a wrinkled grin.
For then I too can peacefully decay.
ghost queen Jun 2019
i look out into dark, savoring the quiet, the stillness of new dawn, wondering who die today, whose life will end and whose will change forever, sending a shock of wave of pain and grief from an epicenter of a dead soldier

who will die today, whose mother wife daughter will cry today, whose father son brother will fall today

the sun has risen, reality has set in, its time to ride, its time for some to die, we roll the dice, who will land snake eyes

to sit in the humvee, knowing you are playing russian roulette, you can’t  have hope, no inkling of a dream, lose the desire, it is the only way to survive, knowing you may die, give up all hope, consider yourself dead, be grateful at the end of the day when you are not. the drive down suicide alley, like the walk up gallow’s stairs. now i know how they felt. you surrender to fate. you stop thinking, you stop feeling, you go numb.

no longer in control, my life is no longer mine to live or die

i don’t believe in You, not since i was a boy, but i pray, that if we hit an IED, that i die instantaneously. i don’t want to lay on the ground, feeling the horror of dying, crying that i want to live, screaming out for my mother like i’ve seen happen to other guys

there are things worse than death, the living hell of coming home in pieces, physically damaged, emotionally traumatized, spiritually disillusioned, which slowly erodes and destroys your life. a new war, another battle, this time at home, fought in your head. the cycle of trauma 6-9-12, addiction, depression, how long do you let yourself free fall till you hit rock bottom

i am a man, i am not suppose to be afraid, but i am, i can’t show or say, not to them, especially not to you. i am not allowed to show fear, be vulnerable, you will lose respect, stop loving me, tell me to man up, in some subtle way

when everyone has left, everything lost, when the pain is greater than the fear. you must, you will, reach out, or die in combat, killed in action, in the war fought in your mind.
Mark Toney Oct 2019

After but a moment,
Drowning in a sea of confusion,
All hope dashed against rocks of despair,
Her firm resolve culminates in
V I O L E N C E . . .
S i l e n c e...

"For the one who has died has been acquitted from his sin."—Romans 6:7

After but a moment,
The maiden awakens
To peaceful surroundings.

"...Why are you causing noisy confusion and weeping?
The young child has not died, but is sleeping."
"Then, taking the hand of the child, he said to her, 'Tal'i-tha cu'mi,'
which, when translated, means: 'Little girl, I say to you, get up!'"—Mark 5:39, 41

Her eyes slowly adjust as
Her recognition rushes
With audible cries of joy:
"My Mother... My Father... You look so much younger, you do!
My Brother... and the others! Could this really be true?"

As the sun shines, our eyes rain thousands of tears
For the thousands of years of exquisite delight before us.

"...and he said that something should be given her to eat."—Mark 5:43

She feasts on curing fruit, and does willingly stoop
To drink from the river of water of life.
"In the reflection I see
What could have been,
What should have been,
Yes, what now is true for me!"

Oh, Vanessa, what grand, joyful reunion!
Love...
Joy...
Peace...
Innocence of youth reclaimed!

Please sing me a new song, my darling girl.
Please sing me a new song again.

"Do not be amazed at this, for the hour is coming
in which all those in the memorial tombs will
hear his voice and come out..."—John 5:28, 29
5/1/2018 - Poetry form:  Free Verse - In Memory of Vanessa Shaffer (1982-1998) - Copyright © 1998-2019 by Mark Toney
J J Sep 2019
Cross the sea, cross the land, ticking bomb stranded
***** totem in an aged biscuit tan.
Slit-slash, the sun is an open wound
Across the sky that preludes a myriad of boredom's

The wind caught their blank faces and froze them
Thawless, invincible as a corpse and forever
Parading the street. When I was younger
I wanted to sit on a rock and watch history go by
But now I'm not so optimistic, I'm on the run in a sense

Living life on the dime of a lucky sixpence, pensiveness
Only seems to waste time. 'You get busy living' they say,
'Or you get busy criming.'
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