#war poems on Hello Poetry

neth jones May 28

back to the masterplan to the **** grown crop
                  chop-chop    food tinned for the great red heist
the pawn heads   duds stringing out the gross termination
growing the bomb pocked sod with ashes
                            fertile with calcium phosphates

growing history fascist-faced
  no space for art  love and earning yourself
mal-educate       no learning to learn
back to the masterplan    no time to explain
just be a sport   and don't dare complain

original (05/25) : back to the masterplan/ to the **** grown crop/chop-chop food/tinned for the great red heist/the pawn heads / duds stringing out the gross termination/growing the bomb pocked sod with ashes/fertile with calcium phosphates //growing history fascist-faced /no space for art and life and love

#war #horror #inhuman #humanity #loss #death #destruction #repeat

Laokos May 27

alter prayer

another wasted battlefield.
ground smoking,
haze-choked.
bright afternoon zenith
crowning the only victor—
war.

sunlight skates
across the maze of bodies,
dried blood,
dreams ripped open like unsent letters.
it glints from the angle of death
and dances a shuffle
to music from a silent plane.

what am I to you
now that the wind
carries this stench?

a promise wrapped in vengeance.
a rotten kiss
pressed to your lips
passed down the bloodline.

the crowd roars with laughter.
ghosts foot the bill.

the water table rises
to meet the candle flame—
a younger sibling
finally getting their growth spurt.

I am weightless in the flooding,
drowning in fire,
burning in the afterglow
of a thousand dying engines
cooling to the rhythm
of hell-soaked hearts
spent on passion.

I am you
in the longest shadow
of the face you hide.

I am the violence of survival
strutting its stuff,
proud as the blood-soaked mane
of a lion.

I am the beast
that preys.

ahh, men.

#alter #prayer #war #death #vengeance #rotten #hell #blood #violence #survival

Traveler May 24

Un-purge-able

In the land of milk and honey, within the rocks, the water flows. The love of life is dangling, from a chain of forever wars…
Each a part they look away, unconcerned and unafraid.
Unaware the masses move, while their bombs drop on you.
Obscure , the hand we’ve been dealt, turn the device off, toss it on the shelf! Never mind what you heard, this world must be purged.
Purged of them over there,
Lydia, Syria how could
nobody cared?
The Nuremberg trials and **** Germany, we surely do forget.
Yet the identical road is beneath our feet, in each and every step!

Traveler Tim

#traveler #ites #purge #war #peaceactivist

Injaz Ernesto Zhafif May 23

War Under Cloud

Tep morsum le ila korpsum.
Ashes to ashes,
detonation into corpses.

Rebel en legion,
savor to each cranium,
delicate as a fine wine,
yet shall us be blackened.

Legion en acid,
rebel en sympathic.
Freed the souls,
yet armies took them back.

Clouds for clouds,
each foxglove mattered.
Deceptions to be deceptions,
shall each eyes peak.

Whistle whistle,
newspaper for towns!
March for the mourn,
em' do as trumpets blow:
Soul soil.

Reaper grims,
soul queue stacks.
Clank! Burst!
Move forward,
shall a man protect us.

Scream,
hammers to craniums,
each organs weren't sold,
yet each lives be taken in joy.

Amendment et cease,
clouds bright,
peonies for each skull,
their blood bloom.

Fed korpsum le ila bluumus.
For each craniums,
let the seed be fed.

Fed korpsum? Ne.
Sim korpsum yaai rirget.
See the corpse,
see regret.
For each blooming in their craniums, let them rest.
Let towns be watered.

None for us to mourn,
for them shall they be enskyed. Morally, for us shall be shaking hands.

A poem about war and its rebuilding process. Shall us be at peace and never go for wars again.

#existential #war

Eve May 22

unredeeming death ballad

war on war,
with millions signing deaths lease,
war on war,
what spectators call peace,
common people,
wishing death
upon shooting stars,
wishing death upon
common people
battling in war,
wishing for their ma
upon the same shooting stars

is it the soldiers, dead in war,
that you speakers are?
is it your life taken
in disagreement
of your leader?
is it your body lying
underneath the graveyard?
is it your loved ones attending
tears seeping,
while reading
your unredeeming
death ballad?

#war

Cheyenne Apr 25

The hill: a grave

This is the hill I will die on.
I choose to stand on the high ground,
And fight in the war.

I will be bloodied.
Bruised.
Broken.

But I will not run to the safety,
In the home at the bottom.
I will not cry for mercy,
As you raise your blade above my bowed head.

I will stay.
I will empty your lungs of hot air,
And shove you over the edge.
I will watch your body lie at the bottom,
Pointed at gruesome angles.

For in your one-sided battle to knock me down,
I have turned the tide.
This place that I have chosen to rest
Is no longer my grave,
But yours.

#fight #war #symbolism #opinions #thought #death #gruesome

Rhiannon Clayton May 21

Your Daughter

I hear both your words and the unspoken thoughts behind them.
I hear the whispers of judgment that fall between the cracks in the floor and are felt from the other end of the telephone.
While I don't need your acceptance, it's still hard to accept that, as your daughter, you still don't see me.
What you focus on is what I lack in your eyes, and all that needs to be "fixed."
I am so much more than my shortcomings, and I deserve love and respect, even as an imperfect being.
I realize that now.
Yet, after all these years, your judgment still stings, and my heart continues to ache with the pain it brings.
So, I love you from a distance, so that I can safeguard my heart, so that I can remain whole.
I refuse to dwell among those who seek to undermine me.
I have won too many wars to fight another battle with myself.

-Rhia Clay

#daughter #war #battles #distance #whole #family #lack #fight #win #love