Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#officer
The weakness of the officer… His barricade frame looming soullessly over the victim as the other officer decided she was too sick to come in… The sadness of the old man arrested for holding a placard containing truths we all should believe in… The weakness of your will to go along with everything now that it’s nothing… But what’s nothing? Is nothing breathing? Is nothing hearing? Is nothing seeing? You can’t be at peace with dissonance… And in order to achieve peace you must wake up to the hell that persists… Don’t think you can avoid it… Prepare to ask yourself the question; Would you rather live in a cell where they don’t let the sun in, Or be beaten to death for believing in something?
0
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 4:51 PM UTC
The weakness of the officer
People are not nice, They can dishearten you, But don't be like mice. Let me tell you a story, My story of victory, It's after the accident. When I was in the ICU, Thought I won't be consequential, But I disappointed them. This young man is alive, An ex-SBI PO, now a DRAAO, Oh I worked hard for it. Did not I, oh life, I don't play the fife, You know, right? Now I talk to you, Yes, you, the dejected one, Now I ask you this: Being a survivor, If I can be successful, Why cannot you?
0
May 9, 2024
May 9, 2024 at 10:40 AM UTC
Inspiring You
Frag The same old feeling The same old issues By the same old feeling Why do you still take it? I ask myself each day Better the Satan you know The **** beasts me Each and every day I should’ve been a Marine Than an army soldier Day in day out Same old ******* **** I think I’ll frag my officer When we are alone Out in the bush Say it was an accident All the **** he gave me Join the army See the world That **** is my world Tonight I’ll frag him Then take off cross county The border is fifty clicks away Join the cartel Or go independent **** the army And their rules
0
Aug 21, 2021
Aug 21, 2021 at 4:45 PM UTC
frag
FOR... US ARMY
0
Mar 7, 2020
Mar 7, 2020 at 11:53 AM UTC
I WANT YOU
George's father stares at Polly. "How is George?" he asks eyeing the young maid who cares for his shell-shocked son. Polly studies the man behind the desk how his eyes search her. "He has moments of nerves but I manage to calm him" she replies pushing from her mind she and George in bed the night before. "I have received a letter asking about him from his regiment commander" he says "asking about his possible return to the Front." Polly's eyes betray a fear. "He can't" she says "he's not well enough." His eyes pierce her. "It is not your opinion he will be asking" he says sitting forward in his chair. "If it wasn't for me he'd be locked away in some asylum". Polly says not thinking as she speaks. He looks at her. "I know he thinks you are his wife but you are not" Polly stands up straight looking at him. "But all the time he does I am" she replies seeing George making love to her twice in the night behind her eyes.
0
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 4:09 AM UTC
Polly and the Master 1917.
Polly watches the sun rise into the room. She lies beside George in his bed. It was the only way to calm him down last night. He thought he saw snipers in the trees over the way. He sleeps still. Eyes shut and eyelids like smooth shells. She didn't think he would be able to perform but he did. As if nothing much had changed. But he was not the same. The War has blunted his sense of humour. Twice in the night. At one time he shook the bed with the nerves going off. She lies still gazing at him there. The thin dark moustache. The lips still. What if he had died? Shell shock is a kind of death she muses. Where to go from here? He thinks she's his wife and not the maid he used to bed while on leave. His parents are not happy about her being with him most of the time. But she alone can calm him if he loses his nerve and shouts and screams and shakes. She is supposed to sleep next door in the adjoining room but he wanted her in his bed. It had been nearly a year since he last made love to her before he went back to the trenches and the Front. She can sense him close to her. She wants him inside her again and again. She had best get up in case someone comes along and sees her in his bed. She rises up and goes to the adjoining room to wash and dress and brush her hair which is in a mess.
0
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 8:23 AM UTC
Sleeping with George 1917.
You watched George undress for bed, made sure he didn't slip or fall with the shakes. He had caused a scene at dinner and his mother asked you to take him back to his room. He thought you his wife and not the maid. The shell shock had disrupted his thoughts and nerves. He stood there naked staring at the wall. You picked up his pyjamas and dressed him. He was pliant and stared at you. Polly, what has become of us? he said. He had tears in his eyes. We are safe, George, you said. His hands began to shake again. You held him close to you sensing him shake and cry. You didn't know the sights and sounds that haunted him; what the War had done was visible before your eyes: in his eyes an old world died and a world cursed by lies.
0
Mar 6, 2018
Mar 6, 2018 at 3:57 PM UTC
Putting George To Bed 1917
George sat at the dining table for evening dinner. It was the first time he had been down to dinner in many months, since being sent home with shell shock in 1916. He sat quiet, staring at his sister who sat opposite. Other guests sat along each side of the long table, and his father sat at the top end and his mother at the other end. He wanted to shut out the chatter; it grounded on his fragile nerves. The man next to him (lord something or other) tried to engaged him in conversation about the War, but George turned and gazed at the man, gazed at his moustache rising and falling as he spoke, the words floating in the air like wounded birds. His sister said: George doesn't talk of the War, he finds it disturbing. The man looked at the sister: I suppose he must; are on your leave then, Sir? George turned away. He wanted his wife. Where was she? He searched along the table on either side, ignoring the man next to him. Where's Polly? He said anxiously to his sister. His sister leaned forward: Polly is busy, George, you will see her later, the sister said in a soft voice. I WANT HER NOW! George bellowed, his hands shaking, his eyes staring along the table. His mother got up from the table and went around to George who had pushed back his chair and was standing shaking. Calm, George, she said. She put an arm about him and began to lead him from the dining room. The guests stared in silence. Polly who had been outside waiting to take meals in, came in and spoke quietly to the mother, and taking George's hand led him from the room. George is suffering from shell shock, his father said, he has not quite got through with it yet. The guests nodded and spoke in soften voices offering apologises and words of sadness and such as guests do. George held tight to Polly's hand. Who are those people? He said, his hands shaking, his eyes staring around him. Just dinner party guests, George, Polly said, leading him up the stairs, wondering what the butler will say about her entering the dining room other than as a maid. They climbed up the stairs; George crouched down thinking the bright lights were flares.
0
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 12:19 PM UTC
George at Dinner 1917.
George sat at the dining table for evening dinner. It was the first time he had been down to dinner in many months, since being sent home with shell shock in 1916. He sat quiet, staring at his sister who sat opposite. Other guests sat along each side of the long table, and his father sat at the top end and his mother at the other end. He wanted to shut out the chatter; it grounded on his fragile nerves. The man next to him (lord something or other) tried to engaged him in conversation about the War, but George turned and gazed at the man, gazed at his moustache rising and falling as he spoke, the words floating in the air like wounded birds. His sister said: George doesn't talk of the War, he finds it disturbing. The man looked at the sister: I suppose he must; are on your leave then, Sir? George turned away. He wanted his wife. Where was she? He searched along the table on either side, ignoring the man next to him. Where's Polly? He said anxiously to his sister. His sister leaned forward: Polly is busy, George, you will see her later, the sister said in a soft voice. I WANT HER NOW! George bellowed, his hands shaking, his eyes staring along the table. His mother got up from the table and went around to George who had pushed back his chair and was standing shaking. Calm, George, she said. She put an arm about him and began to lead him from the dining room. The guests stared in silence. Polly who had been outside waiting to take meals in, came in and spoke quietly to the mother, and taking George's hand led him from the room. George is suffering from shell shock, his father said, he has not quite got through with it yet. The guests nodded and spoke in soften voices offering apologises and words of sadness and such as guests do. George held tight to Polly's hand. Who are those people? He said, his hands shaking, his eyes staring around him. Just dinner party guests, George, Polly said, leading him up the stairs, wondering what the butler will say about her entering the dining room other than as a maid. They climbed up the stairs; George crouched down thinking the bright lights were flares.
Continue reading...
103
The remains of a soldier laid on a muddy plank of wood, and that was the first day at the Front. George pushed the memory aside like an annoying fly, but it stayed there as he watched Polly make up his bed. And the hand sticking out of the trench, a wedding ring still visible discoloured by blood. George studied the maid as she moved, how she smoothed down the cover with the side of her palm. He wished she  could smooth out the memories stuck his head: the calls of the wounded and faces of the dead.
0
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 12:36 PM UTC
Remains 1917.
They're out there George said peering out the window of his room. Polly who had been making his bed looked over at him. Who are George? she said. They think I can't see them but I do creeping along there by the trenches. She came across and stood beside him and looked out the window. Cows moved in the field over the way tails wagging slow. They shot Briggs right through the head and he was beside me one minute he was talking next gone a hole through his forehead. They won't get me like that he said. It'll be all right George just keep near me. She held his arm a cow moved behind the hedge. Back back George said and held her close and away from the window his eyes large and staring. She kissed his cheek he turned and gazed at her his eyes frightened looking. They won't **** me will they? No George not now she said holding him. He stared ahead his eyes watching a moving cow.
0
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 3:27 AM UTC
GEORGE BROKEN MINDED 1917.
George walked to the door of his room. Polly who had been sitting by the window said where are you going? I need fresh air he said. He went out she followed he walked along the passage down the stairs his footsteps walking slow on each step. She kept him in view wondering if he was going to have another turn. He crossed the hall looking straight ahead. She followed him walking past the new maid who had replaced her a timid girl who now shared the room and bed with Sally the maid she once slept with before George came home from the War shell shocked. George opened the front door went out into the grounds. Polly followed closed the door after her. She watched as he stopped by the trees peered at the horizon. She walked close to him. They're out there some place he said. Who are George? she said. The *** he said. He stared at the trees in the distant swaying. See their big guns? he said. She watched the trees sway. Keep behind me he said to her snipers out there he pointed across the grounds. There was no one there just the wind and birds no war sounds.
0
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 11:11 AM UTC
ANOTHER WAR 1917.
George lies on his bed in the dark. I sit in the chair by the window curtains drawn. I could have gone through to the room next door adjoined by a door where his man used to sleep before the War. He joined George's regiment but was killed just after George's brain gave way on the Somme. I sit in case he wakes and panics if I'm not here. His parents are not happy that I am here with him but he insists I am his wife not the maid he used to bed while home on leave and before. The nurse he had left after George refused to have her in the room and only me to be there. I wish he was well and back to how he was not this broken man who lies on his bed in the  dark moaning through another nightmare. I peer through the slit where the curtains meet.   I see a narrow wedge of field and trees and sky. I wonder what god it was who brought George back but left his man to die.
0
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
POLLY IN THE DARK 1917.
George's silent staring out the window his mother watches him as she stands beside him. She has sent the maid out below stairs so that she his mother can have him to herself. What's out there? She asks him. There's snipers he whispers. She looks out at the fields and hedgerows the tall oaks swaying slow. How many? She asks him. Where's my wife? He asks her looking up with his eyes hauntedly. She's gone out she replies. There's danger I told you he mutters the snipers. She'll be back pretty soon she answers. Polly stands by the door of the hall looking out at the drive. She's been sent from the room leaving George alone with his mother. Listen George why don't you come downstairs for dinner we have guests his mother says to him. Where's Polly? He asks her. She'll be back she answers wishing her son was well that his nerves weren't so bad. There's one there he shouts out his finger pointing out at the hedgerow get down low he utters ducking down out of sight pulling his mother down beside him. His mother looks at him and then sighs seeing tears welling up in his eyes.
0
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 2:23 PM UTC
GEORGE'S ****** 1917.
The nurse had left. George had improved little, but got angry when the nurse was about, and was only calmed when Polly was in attendance; so His father let the nurse go and allowed Polly to nurse him. Dudman didn't like it, but could do nothing about it; another maid was employed to cover Polly's duties. George sat in chair by the window staring out, January sun was dull in the sky, clouds drifted slowly. Polly tidied up the bed and arranged George's clothes by the side. Look at them, George said, pointing out the window, creeping along the trench. Polly went to the window and peered out where George pointed. The old gardener and his boy walked along by the hedge carrying tools. Germans, Polly, see them, where's my gun? George said anxiously. Polly stood beside him: it's Cartwright and his boy walking by the hedge, George, she said softly. George peered hard: Not Germans? No not Germans, Polly affirmed. George sighed, held Polly's hand. Look like Germans, he said. She wished he was well again, not unhinged by shells and gunfire. Shell shock, the doctor had said, who came the other week after George had a bad attack of nerves and shouted and hit out at the nurse. Only Polly calmed him down and he held her as he wept. Dunton was there, George said suddenly, one minute there next gone, blown apart, blood on me and his arm in the trench a few feet away. Polly hugged him, kissed his head. George saw about him the walking dead.
0
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 8:55 AM UTC
WALKING DEAD 1917.
The nurse has left the room; Polly tucks George into bed, settling him down. Quieter now after the shouting and disturbance earlier. He had been convinced Quigly was out in No Man's Land: out there he had said, pointing over the grounds at dusk, moonlight making shadows. I'll send help for him, Polly had said. Don't loose more men on that, George had shouted. His parents came out rushing onto the verandah to see what the fuss was about. The nurse had tried to quieten George, unsuccessfully. Laughter from guests in the house brought George to tears. Quigly's bought it, George had moaned. His eyes were large and staring out at the grounds where stars had glimmered. Polly had managed to get him back in the house; the nurse following behind, eyeing them both. George lies with eyes closed. Polly leans over him. She wishes he was as he was before the War and his time at the Front and the mental breakdown. He'd have had her in his bed by now, and have ****** her to joy and back. Now he lies silent, eyes shut. She leans down and kisses his forehead. Him back from the Front half living, half dead.
0
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 7:10 AM UTC
HALF LIVING HALF DEAD 1916
George lies in the dark of his room, a slit of light from the moon squeezes through the gap of the curtains and makes a streak onto the floor and the wall by his bed. He hears gunshot and explosions, hears men's moans from No-Man's Land, senses rats run along the trench. His hands shake, his eyes stare. By the window fast asleep a nurse sits unaware of the wars inside George's head as he lies in bed. He watches as Grimes sits against the trench wall, smoking a cigarette, then stands up and goes to the steps, and looks over the top; smoke from his cigarette floating about his head; a whine, splat and Grimes falls back dead. Georges stares and mumbles. Grimes lies staring into the blackness as if an answer is there. George gets out of bed, walks to the wall to tend to Grimes. The chair by the wall where the nurse's coat lies stands still. George talks to the coat, talks to Grimes. The coat is silent and unmoving like one dead. George sees Grimes lying there in his broken mind and head.
0
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 3:08 PM UTC
WHAT GEORGE SAW 1916.
On his bed in his room George sees the remains of Gilmore laid out ****** and foul smelling, Polly tries to get him to lie down for a while to rest to calm his mind and nerves, Gilmore's remains are laid there he says pointing to the bed with a shaking finger, Polly looks at the bed where George's pyjamas fresh cleaned lie ready to put on, George stares at her move them put them some place else he says his finger shaking faster, Polly removes the pyjamas and places them on the dresser over by the wall and turns back to George, I have laid them to rest she says taking hold of his shaking hand in hers and taps it gently, he mutters about the stench of the trench about the young soldier who shook so much when the whistle to go over the top blew he ****** himself and shook so much we left him there left him, George stares ahead at the bed holding on to Polly's hands and mutters left him there, Polly wishes George was his old self and would take her in his bed as he had before the War came now he shakes and stares as if all around him were explosions and flares.
0
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 3:13 PM UTC
EXPLOSIONS AND FLARES 1916.
George's father stares at the nurse, young thing, blue eyed, he wants her does he? Yes, the nurses says, calls her name out and won't be calmed until she's there, but Mr Dudman said not to bring her, the father stares at the nurse, then out the window showing the trees and fields beyond, if George calls for her go get her no matter what Dudman says, the nurse nods, feels relief, George's hard to manage once he's in a mood, anything else? The father says, no all well otherwise, the nurse says, wishing she was back at the hospital caring for wounded soldiers from the front whose injuries she could see, not this mental type, she leaves the study, the father back at his desk writing, she walks along the dark passageway and up the wide staircase, she sees George by the open window in the chair, he stares out at the view hands over his eyebrows as if seeing through binoculars, he doesn't turn around when she enters he stares at the enemy soldiers advancing, Polly see them coming? He says suddenly, pointing at the field ahead (cows slowly walking) the nurse stands behind him, hands on his shoulders, see them Polly? He repeats, She's not here George she's not here, get her now I want my wife, George says turning round, the nurse nods and leaves the room without a sound.
0
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 6:54 AM UTC
WITHOUT A SOUND 1916.
George sits by the window of his room, there are rooks over the far trees, over some field cows moo on the air, he stares at the horizon expecting explosions, seeing the enemies' trenches over by Tenet's farm teem with life, the nurse behind him watches him sit his head to one side mumbling words, George doesn't want to turn round he knows Wilkes' head will still lay on the floor mouthing words, the nurse offers him a cup of tea brown and now warm, he sees a ****** walking along by the drive rifle over his shoulder getting bolder,   you must drink George the nurse says putting the cup by his elbow on the small side table, Mitchum's hand lay on the trench floor at his feet the wedding ring still there muddied gold, where's Polly? he says not looking around in case the ****** crouches out of sight, she's busy the nurse says (having been told by Dudman the butler not to bring her), bring her here he says I need her to see the ****** fellow to see for herself, the nurse looks over his shoulder along the drive the gardener walks with *** POLLY George bellows POLLY he shouts again causing the gardener to lift his head and stare who was there, the nurse puts a hand on his shoulder to calm him down she'll be coming soon she says in his ear, his eyes gaze as the ****** disappears into the door the driveway is empty, an explosion of rooks hit the sky, George wide-eyed begins to cry.
0
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 1:05 AM UTC
WHAT GEORGE SEES 1916
The nurse, whom George's parents hired, begins to settle him down in his room, after his parents and Polly had left. Where is she? George says. Where is whom? the nurse asks. Polly, where is she? The nurse is unsure who Polly is, so sits him in a chair by the window, which looks out on the grounds and drive. Is she your wife? the nurse asks. George looks at her: I don't know, maybe she is, he says, looking at the nurse puzzled: who are you? I am Nurse Willows, sent you look after you, she says. Where's Polly? he says. I'll find out, you relax and sit quiet, the nurse says, and leaves the room. He stares out of the window; it is still, no bombs are blowing up, no bodies are out there in trenches, the trees are whole, not splintered and blown down. He looks into the room: Wilkes's head lies on the floor by the bed, the eyes gazing at him questioningly. An explosion in his head stirs him to jump from the chair, and run to the wall where he stands shaking, staring at the head. Be careful Wilkes, be careful, he says. He looks at his writing desk large eyed, a hand lies there, palm upwards, a finger bloodied points towards him. No no, I can't, he says. He turns, and the door opens, and he shouts: GET DOWN! ****** The nurse and Polly stare at him, then go to him. Calm down, the nurse says. Polly takes his hand and holds it: it's all right George, no one will harm you here. He looks at her childlike: Polly, you are here. he says, and holds her close to him. The nurse looks at them uncertain what to say or do. Has he a wife? she asks. No not yet, Polly says, looking at the nurse over George's shoulder, as he hugs her tight to him. The door opens and George's mother enters in: what is the noise? He is unsettled, the nurse says, and called for Polly, so I got her not knowing who she was. The mother goes to George and Polly: settle him Polly, then get back to your work. Polly nods. Come on, George, his mother says, you are home now, time to rest. George looks at his mother over Polly's shoulder: who are you? he asks. I'm Mama, she says. He looks at Polly: is she? he says. Polly nods: yes George, she is, Polly says. George turns away from his mother, and stares at Wilkes's head on the floor by the bed, the eyes gazing at him. Get Wilkes's head off the floor, it can't stay there, George says pointing by the bed, unable to get the eyes gazing, out of his mind and head.
0
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 2:27 AM UTC
GEORGE UNSETTLED 1916.
The nurse, whom George's parents hired, begins to settle him down in his room, after his parents and Polly had left. Where is she? George says. Where is whom? the nurse asks. Polly, where is she? The nurse is unsure who Polly is, so sits him in a chair by the window, which looks out on the grounds and drive. Is she your wife? the nurse asks. George looks at her: I don't know, maybe she is, he says, looking at the nurse puzzled: who are you? I am Nurse Willows, sent you look after you, she says. Where's Polly? he says. I'll find out, you relax and sit quiet, the nurse says, and leaves the room. He stares out of the window; it is still, no bombs are blowing up, no bodies are out there in trenches, the trees are whole, not splintered and blown down. He looks into the room: Wilkes's head lies on the floor by the bed, the eyes gazing at him questioningly. An explosion in his head stirs him to jump from the chair, and run to the wall where he stands shaking, staring at the head. Be careful Wilkes, be careful, he says. He looks at his writing desk large eyed, a hand lies there, palm upwards, a finger bloodied points towards him. No no, I can't, he says. He turns, and the door opens, and he shouts: GET DOWN! ****** The nurse and Polly stare at him, then go to him. Calm down, the nurse says. Polly takes his hand and holds it: it's all right George, no one will harm you here. He looks at her childlike: Polly, you are here. he says, and holds her close to him. The nurse looks at them uncertain what to say or do. Has he a wife? she asks. No not yet, Polly says, looking at the nurse over George's shoulder, as he hugs her tight to him. The door opens and George's mother enters in: what is the noise? He is unsettled, the nurse says, and called for Polly, so I got her not knowing who she was. The mother goes to George and Polly: settle him Polly, then get back to your work. Polly nods. Come on, George, his mother says, you are home now, time to rest. George looks at his mother over Polly's shoulder: who are you? he asks. I'm Mama, she says. He looks at Polly: is she? he says. Polly nods: yes George, she is, Polly says. George turns away from his mother, and stares at Wilkes's head on the floor by the bed, the eyes gazing at him. Get Wilkes's head off the floor, it can't stay there, George says pointing by the bed, unable to get the eyes gazing, out of his mind and head.
Continue reading...
148
George had gone from the house. His parents had sent him to a place for treatment for the state of his nerves broken up at the Front. Who told you? Polly asked when Susie had told her. Old Dudman (the butler) just told me, Susie said. But gone where? Polly asked. Didn't say, said Susie, secretly she was glad that Polly would not now be able to go sleep in his bed as she had times before. I must know where he's gone, Polly said, and rushed off quickly to find Dudman and ask him. Where's he gone? Polly said to Dudman who was in his small room. Where's who gone? He asked her. Master George, she replied. He eyed her quite sternly; where he can be assured of treatment, Dudman said. But where's that? Polly said. I can't say, not to you, he replied, back to work, and forget your dealings in the past, in his bed, Dudman said.
0
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 1:42 PM UTC
WHAT DUDMAN SAID 1916.
George Elmore opened up his tired eyes he had dreamed of the Front barbed wire loud gunfire human cries mud and blood quiet now his old room his own bed curtains drawn sunlight bright and she there gazing out at the view the house maid what's her name? Is it you? He uttered Polly turned quite startled you're awake Master George how are you? She walked next to the bed and stood still I don't know how I am am I home? She nodded yes you are in your room in London and you are? I'm Polly a house maid she told him uncertain what to do this is home? He uttered uneasy yes it is it's your home where's Gwyer? He asked her who's Gwyer? My batman he was here not seen him Polly said are you sure? Yes I'm sure she sat down on the bed took his hand Sanderson is lost now George informed he was there beside me in the trench then was dead I'm sorry Polly said and Gwyer where is he? George asked her I don't know she replied who are you? I'm Polly the house maid who am I? You are George George Elmore Polly said he lay down closed his eyes leave me here he uttered and beware of the shells Polly sat and watched him still holding his cold hand and he thought he was in the war land.
0
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 3:13 PM UTC
THE WAR LAND 1916.
Captain George Elmore watches the trees and fields pass by as the car moves up the drive to his parent's house and his home, sky blue, birds in flight, the driver is silent and he is glad, no noise, no talk, nothing but silence. In his mind part of him is still at the Front, sights seen, sounds of guns, rifles, bombs, men's screams and moans, echoing in his ears, sights of dead and legs and arms and waste and heads and eyes. All is dead all dies, he murmurs, watching the house come into view, the windows, the roof, the doors. A servant girl walks by, head down thought held, not Polly, he muses, not her, he feels tears well in his eyes, all is dead all dies, he murmurs soft. The driver pulls up outside the front doors and there is a moment as if time has stopped, as if he is stuck, cannot move. Dudson's head is staring at him from the side of the trench, no body, just the head, eye open, one gone. The driver opens the car door and stands gazing in, Captain Elmore, home Sir, he says softly. The door of the house opens and his mother walks down towards the car, followed by the butler and a servant girl. His mother stands at the car door and stares in, George, are you all right? She says unsure why he sits so still, his eyes looking but unmoving, watery as if washed and undried. The butler stands behind the mother, gazes in hands by his sides, the servant girl stands behind him, looking by his side. George you are home now, his mother says. George stirs, eyes move about him, not focusing, he moves and steps out of the car and stares at the sky, all are dead, he murmurs, men die.
0
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 3:44 PM UTC
ALL IS DEAD 1916.
Captain George Elmore watches the trees and fields pass by as the car moves up the drive to his parent's house and his home, sky blue, birds in flight, the driver is silent and he is glad, no noise, no talk, nothing but silence. In his mind part of him is still at the Front, sights seen, sounds of guns, rifles, bombs, men's screams and moans, echoing in his ears, sights of dead and legs and arms and waste and heads and eyes. All is dead all dies, he murmurs, watching the house come into view, the windows, the roof, the doors. A servant girl walks by, head down thought held, not Polly, he muses, not her, he feels tears well in his eyes, all is dead all dies, he murmurs soft. The driver pulls up outside the front doors and there is a moment as if time has stopped, as if he is stuck, cannot move. Dudson's head is staring at him from the side of the trench, no body, just the head, eye open, one gone. The driver opens the car door and stands gazing in, Captain Elmore, home Sir, he says softly. The door of the house opens and his mother walks down towards the car, followed by the butler and a servant girl. His mother stands at the car door and stares in, George, are you all right? She says unsure why he sits so still, his eyes looking but unmoving, watery as if washed and undried. The butler stands behind the mother, gazes in hands by his sides, the servant girl stands behind him, looking by his side. George you are home now, his mother says. George stirs, eyes move about him, not focusing, he moves and steps out of the car and stares at the sky, all are dead, he murmurs, men die.
Continue reading...
93
Case Spadet! Look at all of the beautiful stars, (yea, get a flashlight, it's too dark) Look at the way I float so high up! (the affects will wear off soon enough) You are my chief of tactical officer! (I'm also on your own, that makes two of us) We are rank 2 divisions finest, and this smore's for you!
0
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
Trippin' Lightyears
Y e s o f f i c e r I c a n r e c a l l l a s t n i g h t I s a w M i s s K e l l y . S h e w a v e d t o m e f r o m , i n t e r i o r o f f i n e c a r r i a g e . I n s i d e s h e s u p p e d o n w i n e a n d f e d o n l u s c i o u s g r a p e . a n d t h e m o n e y s h e w a s p a s s e d , d i d n o t d i s p a r a g e . B u t s h e p a s t m e v e r y q u i c k l y a n d f u l l y d r u n k w a s I . I f i n d i t h a r d t o r e m e m b e r a n y m o r e . B u t t h e o w n e r w a s a m a n o f w o r t h , f o r h i s c o a c h m a n w a s w e l l c l a d - a n d t h e r e w a s a g o l d i n s i g n i a , p r i n t e d o n t h e c a r r i a g e d o o r . M y f i n a l r e c o l l e c t i o n , w a s t h e s m i l i n g f a c e o f s h e . I d o b e l i e v e s h e t h o u g h t t h a t s h e h a d m a d e a d e c e n t s c o r e . B u t t h e t h o u g h t o f h e r t r a n s p o r t e d t o h e r d e a t h b e f o r e m y e y e s . I a m o f m i n d t o c h a n g e m y w a y s a n d n o l o n g e r s h a l l I w h o r e . T h i s w a y o f l i f e i t s e e m s h a s o f t e n p u t u s g i r l s a t r i s k , I t h a s a l w a y s b e e n t h i s w a y f o r a l a d y o f t h e n i g h t . B u t o n s e e i n g M a r y K e l l y c u t u p a n d l e f t f o r a l l t o s e e h a s m a d e m e w a n t t o l e a v e m y L o n d o n a n d t a k e f l i g h t . I a m s o r r y t h a t I h e l p y o u n o t w i t h w h a t I r e c o l l e c t - f o r I p r a y y o u c a t c h t h i s f e l l o w a n d h a n g h i m u p o n h i g h . B u t I t r e a d t h i s p l a c e n o l o n g e r , i t  s n o t w o r t h i t n o w I s e e . S o a l l t h a t I h a v e l e f t t o s a y , d e a r P o l i c e m a n i s g o o d b y e . I f y o u n e e d t o s p e a k a g a i n t o m e , h e r e i s m y n e w a d d r e s s . I w i l l n e v e r m o r e s e e L o n d o n t o w n , n o t e v e n a s a t r i p p e r . F o r I k n o w t h a t M a r y K e l l y , c o u l d o f e a s i l y b e e n m e - w h o h a d f a l l e n t o t h e b e a s t , c a l l e d  J a c k t h e R i p p e r .
0
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
Remember "Not"
Y e s o f f i c e r I c a n r e c a l l l a s t n i g h t I s a w M i s s K e l l y . S h e w a v e d t o m e f r o m , i n t e r i o r o f f i n e c a r r i a g e . I n s i d e s h e s u p p e d o n w i n e a n d f e d o n l u s c i o u s g r a p e . a n d t h e m o n e y s h e w a s p a s s e d , d i d n o t d i s p a r a g e . B u t s h e p a s t m e v e r y q u i c k l y a n d f u l l y d r u n k w a s I . I f i n d i t h a r d t o r e m e m b e r a n y m o r e . B u t t h e o w n e r w a s a m a n o f w o r t h , f o r h i s c o a c h m a n w a s w e l l c l a d - a n d t h e r e w a s a g o l d i n s i g n i a , p r i n t e d o n t h e c a r r i a g e d o o r . M y f i n a l r e c o l l e c t i o n , w a s t h e s m i l i n g f a c e o f s h e . I d o b e l i e v e s h e t h o u g h t t h a t s h e h a d m a d e a d e c e n t s c o r e . B u t t h e t h o u g h t o f h e r t r a n s p o r t e d t o h e r d e a t h b e f o r e m y e y e s . I a m o f m i n d t o c h a n g e m y w a y s a n d n o l o n g e r s h a l l I w h o r e . T h i s w a y o f l i f e i t s e e m s h a s o f t e n p u t u s g i r l s a t r i s k , I t h a s a l w a y s b e e n t h i s w a y f o r a l a d y o f t h e n i g h t . B u t o n s e e i n g M a r y K e l l y c u t u p a n d l e f t f o r a l l t o s e e h a s m a d e m e w a n t t o l e a v e m y L o n d o n a n d t a k e f l i g h t . I a m s o r r y t h a t I h e l p y o u n o t w i t h w h a t I r e c o l l e c t - f o r I p r a y y o u c a t c h t h i s f e l l o w a n d h a n g h i m u p o n h i g h . B u t I t r e a d t h i s p l a c e n o l o n g e r , i t  s n o t w o r t h i t n o w I s e e . S o a l l t h a t I h a v e l e f t t o s a y , d e a r P o l i c e m a n i s g o o d b y e . I f y o u n e e d t o s p e a k a g a i n t o m e , h e r e i s m y n e w a d d r e s s . I w i l l n e v e r m o r e s e e L o n d o n t o w n , n o t e v e n a s a t r i p p e r . F o r I k n o w t h a t M a r y K e l l y , c o u l d o f e a s i l y b e e n m e - w h o h a d f a l l e n t o t h e b e a s t , c a l l e d  J a c k t h e R i p p e r .
Continue reading...
48