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The pounding of boots
match my heartbeat
as we march on enemy land
new soil underfoot
with gun in hand
We reach a clearing
with an unpleasant sight
bodies litter the ground
in waves of red from the fight
and as more troops come
we release our battle cry
With a tear-streaked face
I charge up the hill
and try to ****
I fight for my land
my family
and friends
as they do too
I can't believe I've gotten
this far alive
my clothes and spirits in tatters
we charge up the hill
and take the fort
why do we fight
when so many get injured
why do we fight
when so many are killed
why do we fight others who are
against us
and not make peace
Because that's not what humans do
We would rather fight and let innocent men die
then to have a world of peace
Robert Ippaso Oct 10
In my infinite wisdom
I tell you this thing,
In this here my kingdom
Will the pendulum swing;

One minute the Kurds
So cute in their garb,
The other the Turks
With their venomous barb.

The former I’m told
Are people to trust,
But I just like the bold
That don’t self-combust.

Give me a winner,
A strong man each time,
I’d rather a sinner
Who’ll follow my line.

Call me ‘cold-hearted’
But what do I care,
The process now started
Depicts my great flair.

Like a conductor
I set forth the tone,
The finest instructor
The world’s ever known.

Let’s finish this bleating
And follow my lead,
So the Kurds get a beating,
A serious nosebleed;

They’re nothing to me,
Just a festering sore,
I hereby decree
This subject’s a bore.
TurttleQuack Oct 9
I feel as if i’m cursed
As if it’s a misfortune to love her
In this lifetime at least

How brave we must be to love each other.
It’s like
We were both north poles
Only meant to connect with south instead of each other
Opposites attract...right?
That’s how everything was supposed to be laid out…

But there have to be some similarities
Whether that similarity is music
Friends, family, hobbies, sports...
Or gender.

Would you really rather see two men holding weapons
Than hands?
Do you want to see the slits on wrists
When you tell them who they can’t kiss?

Just so you know
I'm a girl
I love a girl
And I’m okay with that
You should be too.
I'm not expecting this to do very well's a good feeling to write about it..
Amaris Oct 8
My hair is black and yours is yellow
But they never call it that;
Blonde, or like spun gold
Stunning, precious, unattainable.
But you have it,
Like I’ll never have you.
My hair is black but my skin
Is yellow
They call it that
“Slant-eyed”, “foreign”, “unnatural”
At eighteen, I broke black locks with bleach
(I’ve always wanted to be blonde)
And it didn’t look natural at all
I will never be blonde, I will always be
They ask: What are you?
“American, like you”
But they roll their eyes
They tell me to forget my native language
And I don’t know how to tell them I already am
Black and yellow
I think of me then think of bees, and recall
Being stung in the first grade, and how
Ever since, I’m paralyzed at the thought
Of black, and yellow
Black and yellow
Save the bees! on shirts and posters
But no one is saving me.
I think I’m going to be sick,
Your contemptible *******-ish
Behaviour is rubbing off on me
Stealing pieces of me, elevating
Me to such a height that
When you inevitably drop me and
I shatter, my shrapnel showers down
Cuts and slashes, gashes and grazes
All those I ought to protect

No more will I be here for you to collect!
You may be mamma’s blue-eyed-boy
But remember pride comes before the fall
So be careful, the hurt hearts
You’ve abandoned means
Your record needs reconciling
SWebster Oct 3
There: skin dull and purple.
Here: I feel the ache, coloured blue.
Each one is wanted,
each one is displayed.
They have been earned.
I am able to take the pain,
I am able to endure the anger,
I have taken what was given.
I remain and the fury has been silenced.
Just some thoughts on how I felt when I was younger although I would probably feel the same if I were to do this again.
labyrinth Sep 24
I could have been a priest
Or an astronaut maybe
A president or a statesman at least
A poet could’ve easily been me

A professional athlete, or a shipmaster with a crew
What a proficient doctor I would’ve been
A **** good musician or a scientist too
Let alone being a chief archaeologist or something

Ended up being an ordinary man
Thousands of clients and their needs
As ordinary as a real-estate broker and
Been busy rusting with useless deeds.

Couldn’t figure it out to this day. How? Why?
And don’t know how to respond, either
Not much time left. Dad? Ma?
Or anybody else for that matter?
Not copyrighted yet
William Troup Sep 24
   time effaced!
   Eyes, still red laced,
      clean the shelves our ego did lowly set!
      Advise still buried in a mind reset
   where thee, with heart,
   torn apart ...
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