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Edna Sweetlove Mar 2015
A famous "Barry Hodges" poem!

I was strolling along the Normandy beaches
In the close vicinity of Caen one day
With a very tasty piece of arm-candy to hand
When I found a bleached human femur on the beach.
Oh dear me, what thoughts this conjured up in my brain
As I imagined whose bone it might have been!
Perhaps some pathetic soldier boy landing in forty-four
Who got slotted by a gallant German gunner,
His eyes feasting on the sacrificial cannon fodder
So foolishly supplied for his target practice.

Then, as I grabbed my lady friend's juicy ****,
Causing her to turn and sink her tongue into my earhole,
We sank onto the sands in order to sate our lusts,
(enflamed by a very delicious meal of *moules marinières

and a bucket or two of well-chilled Muscadet sur Lie)
I thought, what the **** does it all matter?
This is now, and that was then, and this old world
Has become a much nicer place nowadays;
But how mistaken I was in that fond thought;
Oh what an idealist I am in a world of woe.

For, all of a sudden, a contingent of fat dwarfs appeared,
Totally naked apart from their luminous Uncle Sam hats
And the Stars and Stripes hanging from their arseholes;
How I marvelled at their disgusting shapes
(and how surprised was I to find their genitals
were of normal measurements and thus
rather intrusively large by comparison
with the rest of their miniature bodies).
O dear Lord and alleged Father of Mankind
Forgive their horrid ways verily and forsooth.

With a whoop, those demented military retards, [see note below]
The famous 118th battalion ****** Marine veterans,
A contingent of whom emerged from a portable toilet
(which must have been a bit of a tight squeeze),
Chopped my girl-friend up with their bayonets,
Whereupon I crapped myself in terror and pity,
Before retrieving the purse from the eviscerated corpse,
Realizing that her PIN number was still useable
Until 'les flics' discovered her unfortunate remains
After the shore ***** had partaken thereof.
NOTE *: The 118th ****** Marines were a very brave battalion of dwarfs of whom unfortunately 91% drowned on the Normandy beaches on D-Day as the water was too deep for them. Their tiny descendants visit Normandy from time to time to commemorate this sad event and usually get totally rat-arsed on too much Calvados (being gnome-like in stature, they have a smaller capacity to absorb large quantities of *****). It was my bad luck that my visit coincided with one of their trips as their brutality is world-famous and their lack of intelligence is wondrous. They are basically retards and best avoided.
IsReaL E Summers Feb 2015
The Looking back and seeing,
It's almost like I'm dreaming
From my Life, ive been weening
wanna win it "well done"
Trevailed a vision
One and only Son
"Light that your arising"
And every body was...
  That's right....
                              Kung fu fighting.
The lines in my mind remind me that I'm...
     A freedom fighter who will aspire higher;
oh, and youra liar.
I was originally gonna call this McDeath and quote "12th knight" or whatever... but I felt like I was Over-reaching. And being overly dramatic. But... hey...YOU KNOW ME RIGHT!? HAA HAAAA  jk
Viola btw, ("conceal me what I am," and all that...
Blake Dixon Oct 2014
Hello world
My name is Blake
Im fed with life
Iv had all that I can take
Every breath I take is just another
mistake
im too passive
and I have  too much on my plate
my bodies starting to fail
but it’s my babies heart
that’s at stake
I have no friends

Well not that I can tell
No body to give a **** if I end up in hell

They say lift your head up
and pray to god
but let ask you something..
isn’t that a little odd?
why would I pray to
someone I can’t even see
it’s not really that I
don’t believe
it’s what if god doesn’t believe in me?
what if there’s no one up there
looking out for me?
What if..
The end is just the end for me?
Deneka Raquel Jul 2014
I was supposed to for-get you.
You were supposed to be dead to me.
But piece of you remained
And when it rained
Vines crawled out of my soul to yours
Your name, found its way back to my heart.
The spiral, began all over again.
Give me a break you selfish *****.

For, the wars that we fought,
Its a shame no one ever really died,
Though most times I got injured.
Each gunshot came from our lips.
Every bomb exploded from my finger tips,
Poetry, fell to pages like grenades,
As I figure skated above landmines for days.
Tip toeing over these trip wires,
Loving you is a dangerous thing.
But I don't think I can survive without the affliction
It is, kind of becoming our little tradition
Where I,
Love you,
You love me
Then build me
And break me
And leave me
But I still Love you.
As if my soul,
Beckons at the mercy of your beauty.

You once stood,
With an arm full of lightening rods,
Dared me to stand still, and I did.
I trusted you.
You fired every last one at me.
I never healed.
I will never heal,
Because I will always feel.
Sarah C Allen Jun 2014
The future of warfare
Technology is different but the mentality is the same
Human beings will continue to be slain
But people will do anything to claim
That we need them
Because profit is the benefit of fear
We’re told to fear those “terrorists”
When truthfully that word doesn’t mean ****
They’re different from us, sure
But that doesn’t give us the ******* right to
Claim that every single one of them is a murderer
Aiming these weapons at them just makes us what we’re trying to claim
They are
Politicians will tell you it’s just protecting our “security”
When all it does in reality is make us less safe
They see us the way we see them
This is a big problem and this is why war exists
Assumptions, stereotypes, and *******
Made to sound pretty and patriotic by militaristic dipshits
Isn’t it time we learn that the line between enemy and fellow citizen
Is one that doesn’t really exist
The only difference between them and US
Is location and the names on a map
Their culture or religion doesn’t make a difference
None of it gives us a right to point a drone at them and go “zap”
Let’s start a conversation
Before we have another useless war
They’re just as human as we are
In conversation about
the realities of War
a salient observation
surfaced again and
yet again - that current
creators of film or TV
images favour clean,
so fail the filth test
that for troops and those
who tend them once
bullets & shells have
wrought their harm
scar everywhere with
muck & misery - such
crisp white pinafores
and hair so carefully
coiffeured just never
figured - real warfare
harrows like The Victors
& D-Day scenes which
open Saving Private Ryan
as bloodily as any wound.

(c) C J Heyworth June 2014
Kelly O'hara May 2014
Bear witness to the legacy of war the tears is has brought.
Bear testament to the deadly game of cat and mouse.
Every tale of daring do, the deaths, the heroism it's the legacy of war.
In the cold in the dark the legacy of war lurks in the minds of those left behind.
Never forget the storms will clear, never stop or give into the fear.
The legacy of war does not have to be cold, what we treasure most are our memories of our heroes.
We can be victorious and let them be glorious, until we can conquer vengeance and sorrow.
It maybe never ending this legacy of war, after all we endure there will be light at the end of the tunnel.
This is what is the legacy of war.
©All rights are reserved and remain with the author
LN May 2014
Children awake to sizzling butter and fresh eggs
Birds chirp and settle on their windowsills
Greeting them with the sound of nature.
How lovely it must be!

Childhood is all about the games and the play, they said.
Buttons are pressed,
Video games begin,
because violence is but a pixelated projection for them.

Two extremities of this earth are facing each other now.
Darkness lies on the opposite side.
What a shame!
Home now bleeds images of destruction.

Childhood is non-existent there.
Children awake to the nauseating scent of gunpowder,
Anxiety has filled their minds,
The future remains vague
Lives hanging on a thread
The drones set off missiles to cut it.

They are worth the entire world to their mothers
Young souls who are the lens from which their parents see happiness
but sadly,
survivors scrape the rubble off their ****** feet
scavenging for the roots they once tried to protect
wetting the ground with utter despair.

Home now bleeds destruction
and constant chaos.
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