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Hamlet, sharpen your sword of trust, for Macbeth is surely waiting.

The specter of ‘Civil war’ stalks the land and the ghosts of senseless violence, so long docile, have come to hollow-eyed attention.

Our cauldron was filled with innocence, as the ever-thirsty succubi require, the glory of war is being shaken, not stirred and the betrayal will be served as quick and cold as steel.

#chefskiss
Inspired by Kurt Philip Behm‘s poem “Shiloh.”
come back alive
  no shade
     no dark sleek  over your own boxed remains
report in     to your family
we'll remove the war from your shoulder
hook up the soldier costume on our hallway peg
return the memory of life to you
we hope we can offer this ..

      ..but we’ve heard tumorous stories
        that   to the war boy returned
                      life   no longer does stick
Zywa Mar 10
Cruel potentates

establish 'peace', simply by --


creating wastelands.
Political biography "De vita et moribus Iulii Agricolae" ("On the life and character of Julius Agricola", AD 98, Publius Cornelius Tacitus), § 30: 'Auferre trucidare rapere falsis nominibus imperium, atque ibi solitudinem faciunt, pacem apellant' ('To robbery, slaughter, plunder, they give the lying name of empire, and where they make a desert they call it peace')

Collection "May the Might"
Man Mar 8
We have so few words for peace,
And far too many for war.
Symbolically, and literal.
Does everyone just hate each other?
I don't, I look at us like siblings;
A family of the same species
Contending with the forces of the cosmos
With the aid of all that is natural.
DW Mar 3
He escaped the invasion
And the imminent threat of harm
He locked all the doors and windows
And turned off all the alarms

Stepping out into the cold
His breath mixes with the night air
Sneaking to avoid attention
Beneath the cold winters glare

The one place he called his home
Was infiltrated and exposed
He flees to a place of safety
Far away and undisclosed

Too scared to know the dangers
He will face on the street alone
His frozen feet break ground for miles
Leading him to the unknown

His wife returns to darkness
Her home painted by fallen snow
The knots churn inside her stomach
Dread and panic starts to grow

Sirens ring in the distance
She can't enter there all alone
What if he finally rested
His pale skin, as cold as stone

All her calls switched to silent
The wall of noise, too much to bare
His phone smashed and then discarded
They could track him everywhere

She cannot wait no longer
The door creaking open to see
Her torch expels all the blackness
His phone is amongst the debris

He couldn't walk no longer
His bare feet bitten by the frost
Winter elements took their toll
He paid the ultimate cost

A chopper in the distance
A loud rasp fills the cold, cold air
The voices calling out to him
The police are everywhere

He wakes from winter slumber
His wife in a hospital chair
He calls her name so softly
I'm so sorry I wasn't there

By Darren Wall ©
Carlo C Gomez Feb 25
Life is war,
my hands are hypnagogic,
so far from refuge.

The purgatory salesman,
an enemy with antlers,
speaks in hostile slogans:
create, destroy, rebuild, repeat.

My friend coma,
blunted and paranoid,
has lost her vital signs.

But Television says differently,
calls this an elegant demise,
you touch the screen
like you're touching God.

The immortal world
I'm hoping to collide with
is beautiful and closed to resistance.

But there are cracks in everything,
the snowglobe army
granular and brittle,
the constant uncertainty
of your universe
becomes a hiding game.

Take me with you
my halation angel,
to migration salvation.

We made our history
into mythology,
a mass of disconnected facts,
the stars may be dead,
yet, we're here
and we've stopped time.

Tonight I'm breaking
through the gates,
tonight I can see around corners,
suddenly, forever makes sense.
My Dear Poet Feb 20
While you advance in front of me
I’m already a step ahead
studying your moves from behind

While you may rule over me
I’m only holding you up
for your fall

While you ignore me
you’ll forget to listen
and fail to hear when I come
Steve Page Feb 18
Like the comfort of forged steel in your hand or between your teeth
Like the push of a brother's shoulder against yours
Like the grip of deep tread on your boots
Like the weight of a canteen on your belt
Like the pull of a loyal hound on your hand
Like the thunder of your horse beneath you
Like the loyal rays of morning cutting through the cold
Like the rumble of reinforcements across the Vale
Like the tight knot of a bandage on your deep wound
Was the reassurance of our Captain's voice ["Hold!"] in the absence of all else.
Reading Games of Thrones and went all medieval.
Ash Feb 17
The choir swells, wails, their song drowned
by your splinters of rapture in the night...
When you stand atop rubble and lingering flame
who will remain to laud your victory?
Mane Omsy Feb 12
Is it cruel to silence a pregnant woman with a dozer
Sold their souls to a war criminal's thirst
Rationalizing every lies with more of them, so kosher
Ask the children died of starvation and thirst
Ever felt threatened by the fire they spit
Lessons never learned, or was it a skit
It's inhuman to take side with criminals, we all learn about our homeland freedom fighters or conflicts against oppression. This is not history, this is happening in front of our eyes, yet we are blind.
Media influenced wars gathering support from logical people filling their lives with lies.
In the end, truth shall prevail
But at what cost??
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