#imperialism - Hello Poetry

I played my part Proud to serve my country, right from the start From the hallowed halls of Lackland Air Force Base, Where my mother tapped me out This was the start of something new, something righteous, and I was devout Invigorated, young, and bold I was quick to buy into the ideas that they sold Some still ring true, not all of it was lies But time is the great truth teller for us all And that flame eventually dies The ages of my youth flew by in a flash Ribbons earned for what I would eventually perceive as perpetually nothing – Added to my stash In the beginning, the mission was clear Work hard and serve my country the best I can while I gave up many years I told myself this was an honorable pursuit Something worth doing, something true But as time went on and I grew wiser I realized I was merely a cog in the machine of the Great Devisor A grunt, the help, a pawn to be played I'm sure the missions I flew brought salvation and joy to many, but also decay I felt good about what we were doing when we provided humanitarian aid The same can not be said for when we brought soldiers home in boxes The stars and stripes resting over where they laid Aboard the aircraft, I'd often sit in silence at my station Thinking about how brave these men must have been to lay down their lives for our once great nation But that's the job right? That's what we signed on for All the honor and pride in the world doesn't stop you from being shaken to your core In the art of war, vigilance is key They'd tell us to always be ready for the next fight in order to secure victory But how far we have strayed from the heroic times of WWII Many of us no longer know what we're fighting for At this point, it's just a job to pay the rent when it's due A national corporation that continues to operate under a false title We travel across the globe, magazines loaded, donning rifles Fleeting is the feeling of pride in our nation's brothers and sisters in arms Our presence is beginning to feel not one of peace, but one of harm This concept – this feeling – is not exclusive to us This game is played by all power mongers around the world They treat us like stepping stones, leaving nothing behind but a pile of bodies, pain, and dust They play their game, taking advantage of those truly in need All in the name of power, influence, trade, and greed Don't let them fool you, don't let them cloud your vision of what you've seen Inform those who haven't, for they too fall prey to the machine The Machine doesn't stop, doesn't rest till it's done But The Machine will never stop, not for a single soul – not one Built of cogs, wheels, metal, and screws The Machine doesn't have the capacity for human compassion like me and you The great struggle for power is a tale as old as time Whether you serve as a civilian or share an experience like mine They will continue to oppress, to fight, to tear us apart So it's my hope that someone reads this and finds value That I might find peace and lift a heavy heart

0

Jan 27

Jan 27, 2026 at 9:59 PM UTC

scarlet-mccall

The Machine (by Jordan Gauthier)

I played my part Proud to serve my country, right from the start From the hallowed halls of Lackland Air Force Base, Where my mother tapped me out This was the start of something new, something righteous, and I was devout Invigorated, young, and bold I was quick to buy into the ideas that they sold Some still ring true, not all of it was lies But time is the great truth teller for us all And that flame eventually dies The ages of my youth flew by in a flash Ribbons earned for what I would eventually perceive as perpetually nothing – Added to my stash In the beginning, the mission was clear Work hard and serve my country the best I can while I gave up many years I told myself this was an honorable pursuit Something worth doing, something true But as time went on and I grew wiser I realized I was merely a cog in the machine of the Great Devisor A grunt, the help, a pawn to be played I'm sure the missions I flew brought salvation and joy to many, but also decay I felt good about what we were doing when we provided humanitarian aid The same can not be said for when we brought soldiers home in boxes The stars and stripes resting over where they laid Aboard the aircraft, I'd often sit in silence at my station Thinking about how brave these men must have been to lay down their lives for our once great nation But that's the job right? That's what we signed on for All the honor and pride in the world doesn't stop you from being shaken to your core In the art of war, vigilance is key They'd tell us to always be ready for the next fight in order to secure victory But how far we have strayed from the heroic times of WWII Many of us no longer know what we're fighting for At this point, it's just a job to pay the rent when it's due A national corporation that continues to operate under a false title We travel across the globe, magazines loaded, donning rifles Fleeting is the feeling of pride in our nation's brothers and sisters in arms Our presence is beginning to feel not one of peace, but one of harm This concept – this feeling – is not exclusive to us This game is played by all power mongers around the world They treat us like stepping stones, leaving nothing behind but a pile of bodies, pain, and dust They play their game, taking advantage of those truly in need All in the name of power, influence, trade, and greed Don't let them fool you, don't let them cloud your vision of what you've seen Inform those who haven't, for they too fall prey to the machine The Machine doesn't stop, doesn't rest till it's done But The Machine will never stop, not for a single soul – not one Built of cogs, wheels, metal, and screws The Machine doesn't have the capacity for human compassion like me and you The great struggle for power is a tale as old as time Whether you serve as a civilian or share an experience like mine They will continue to oppress, to fight, to tear us apart So it's my hope that someone reads this and finds value That I might find peace and lift a heavy heart