#casualtiesofwar
The afterburner tears the air's hard mass,
The concrete shakes with frequency so high,
Supersonic boom bends down trees and grass,
As Number Five ascends into the sky.
And now the wingman, callsign Number Nine,
Roars on the runway, following the Five.
Then blurry shapes of "Rooks" go flashing by,
First one, another — a pair starts to fly.
The concrete burns beneath the midday sun.
The shimmering hot air can now be seen,
With popping drag-chutes, all the Rooks touch down,
Despite the bullet scars, they land routine.
They prep the foam-lined strip to bring him home,
A trail of angry smoke grows less and less,
Then the Five clumsily slams in the foam,
He limps to tarmac. Halts. In pure distress.
The canopy thrown back, the helmet on,
The fire still reflects upon the tint,
Concealing tears for him, who now is gone —
For Vanya — became fire in final feint.
May 17
May 17, 2026 at 9:10 PM UTC
the path lays trodden;
a milestone, leads to nowhere;
somewhere down, a leaf floats -
mid-air - to the whims of the cold breeze,
afraid to touch the bitter ground.
the soldiers are afoot;
marching to the sound
of static, broadcast by their
unreliable leaders.
the innocent seek asylum -
flee from states of unrest;
the power seems absolute -
hardly dynamic;
pistols aim for the heads;
warheads aim for the heads -
of nations - all trying to outperform
each others’ retribution;
panzers guard the rogue bases,
like hellhounds, starved of souls.
mothers kiss their babes, ‘--night’,
then wipe their hapless tears;
fathers beg for their sons’ lives,
and their daughters’ honour;
God exists only in afterthoughts;
ceremonies shroud in silence;
children become too self-aware
for their undemanding ages;
schools shut their gates -
push them further into the nightmare;
tell them they don’t belong;
one of them’s had enough…
pushes back.
Dec 25, 2024
Dec 25, 2024 at 1:34 AM UTC