I have been writing poems
As if I am forging my own armor
Yet it seems that what I have made
Is more than just a hefty covering
But layers of sky-piercing barriers
And armies of unfamiliar soldiers
With their faces reflected in mine

Yet with all these defenses
It still won't be enough

For the words I bleed fail to nourish
The wise owl I aspire to become
And the weakest of the weak
Isn't invisible behind thick walls
Nor will he ever be invulnerable
To the crippling echoes from outside
And to the storms he sewed himself

But as I am doomed to break
I will always be bound to fall as well
Down the rabbit hole of poetry

I stand alone , in mud and blood .
The sky is dark full of smoke and dust . My comrades lay silent beneath my feet .
A voice shouts out in the Distant gloom
are we ready boys ?
My hat lays low upon my brow ,
my hands tremble from the cold
I look left and right ,
and the motionless bodies rise once more
Our eyes lock for just a moment , and then I look towards the huge climb
My heart pounds , it’s in my ears, so loud now I can’t hear
I grasp the mud and with all my might I climb the walls , my prison for these few days
As I reach the top I let out a shout and gun fire greets me
The darkness fades into pastures green where my love ones wait for me

I may have fallen , but where I lie a poppy lives
So when you see the fields so red , just cast your mind to all who sacrificed..

in times of destruction, you need fierce force
in times of hunger, you need absurd appetite
glowin ******* have been encircling you
try to scream, but your vocal chords rupture

multi-armed street military, covid-19 deniers
9-to-9, 24/7, armies made of plastic angels
everything improvised and effective like:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DxBGzUhT-TM

TIZZOP doesn't always write, swallow dat link
as hate and anger overwhelm, GOD forces me to act
at age 13, they called me "***** Splash", so
i had to install 888 children who now my soldiers

in times of destruction, only family remains
in times of appetite, simply loyalty protects ya

saw was if fi not ton
a soldier a child a serpent mild
**** lik crap parc fell lef it ti
a man will grow and be

A patriot, a service man
stood proud and let his
American flag fly.

Served his nations
when they called,
distinguished service
and honorably discharged.

A purple heart
with some PTSD,
told his family
the V.A. would
take good care of me.

The president and congressmen
upped the military budget by billions,
and as soon as that passed
went ahead and tried to get
servicemen’s health care cut.

Man, America doesn’t give a ****
about any of us.

Well, he pinched and saved
for most of his days,
struggling to get by.

Worked very hard
to finally start
a business that was
close to his heart.

Every year he barely managed
to make ends meet,
but was grateful to be
in this land of opportunity
where he could support his family
doing what he loved.

A virus closed almost
all of the businesses
in his neighborhood,cont.
so the government
said they would
bailout small businesses like his,
passed a billed
swore the promise
was fulfilled,
but he never saw a cent,
from the federal government,
cause almost all that aid
went to help out
major party donors.

Man, America doesn’t give a ****
about the man who runs
a small business.

One kid grew up
trying to live up
to his parent’s expectations;
Got a fast-food job
while he was in high school,
then worked his way through
to go to a good college.
Four years and student loans
got him out in the world
and on his own.

Got a decent job,
to pay down the debt,
but along the way he
became really sick,
and the health insurance
barely covered a fraction of it.
Now he is drowning
in an ocean of bills,
from disease that may still
**** him,
and his prescriptions
are practically poison.

It’s a cold hard fact
that this country lacks
real human decency.
Should have learned by now,
we are just the fatted cows
that are culled to feed corporate greed.

Man, America doesn’t give a ****
about you or me.

Which one is he?

He’s the one that asks for the table by the wall where he can see all the exits.

He’s the one who holds your hand slightly behind him and positions himself between you and the joggers in the park who might threaten your life.

He’s the one who holds his cigarette with the ember cupped in his hand - maintaining light discipline even standing outside the mall.

He’s the one that cleans his plate when you cook for him because he knows what it’s like to live on MREs and ibuprofen.

He’s the one with the smile that never reaches his eyes - the pain that never leaves his soul.

He’s the one that came back to you only in the physical form - who’s mind is still in the field with his brothers.

Don’t ask which one he is - because if you can’t tell - you will never know. The mark is in his flesh -  and in the eyes that see the ugly world the way it is, so you don’t have to.

I have laid down my life as I laid down my gun
the battle is over
I don't know who won
their side our side
does anyone care when it's all  said and done?
Long ago and far away
at very the end of the hardest day
when silence falls on the blood red, mud red, grass
will anyone remember what came to pass?
Young men die and old men weep
for comrades lost and the memories they keep
hugged to themselves till their time is done
a long life haunted by the shadow of the gun.
I have no name
war took it from me
a symbol, instead of the lad I used to be

Hey. I know it hasn't been easy for you lately. It never was.
You feel alone in the darkness.
You feel lost. It hurt's.
You are tired. Tired of fighting in battles.
Fighting to do new things, and improve yourself.
Many wounds did not recovered yet.
Yet you are still here,
Fighting in the middle of the battle in your life.
Maybe it is one of the battles that will decide your fate,
Who knows.
I know that you don't get the rest and happiness you want.
That people don't even seem to help you.
They just judge you.

But may I tell you something. Who are they?!
Who are they, to tell you that you can't, that you are bad,
that you should change?! Who are they?
You have been in war for so long that it became your home.
There is no silence, rest, and happiness.
But you still have the goal and destination.
You still can have a piece of art, poetry, beauty, and love.

Maybe it's not so much to enjoy,
maybe not every day is sunny and beautiful and filled with love.
But yet there is something, that makes you feel alive.

I know it's hard sometimes, it seems like it will never change.
You are tired, exhausted, sad, broken, hurt, lost, alone, in pain.
I am not going to make the pain, problem, or bad things go away.
But I am here because somehow the World, God, or the Universe wanted you to read this.
It was a part of your life, maybe not a big one, but at least it is there, it always was there for you, waiting in silence.
Waiting for you to fall down on your knees and cry out loud.

Now listen to me,
Listen carefully. Be brave, be strong, be happy, be smart, be alive.

Take the heavy sword that is covered with dirt and with your own blood.
Take it up, that heavy, strong sword to protect yourself and to win the battle.
Look around,
There are so many kind people who love and care about you.
There are so many beautiful landscapes and places that are waiting to be discovered by you.
And the most important, your destination. It is waiting for you.

So soldier, are we retreating, or shall we try and survive this battle, maybe even win it.
Your commands?