"brigades" poems - Hello Poetry

"brigades" poems

Little Toy Soldiers going off to war None will ever live to see age twenty four None of them even know what they're fighting for Little Toy Soldiers going off to war The world has always been this way With Emperors and Kings Fighting with toy soldiers And the glory that it brings Land, beliefs, religion The basis of the war fought by young toy soldiers Who all die by the score Time has taught us nothing But, it's changed the way we fight War is a full day job Now that it is fought at night The boards of little armies Are now shown up on the screen With all the little soldiers Lit in different shades of green They used to be all metal Painted up in nice bright shades With a General on horseback Leading all his smart brigades Then, the men were plastic glued to bits of wood Behaving as a unit Just like a soldier should Now, the war is different They're up there in different hues You can watch them fight in real time Just like on the nightly news The only thing remaining The thing that's stayed the same Is that nobody in power Know the Little Soldiers names Little Toy Soldiers going off to war None will ever live to see age twenty four None of them even know what they're fighting for Little Toy Soldiers going off to war

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May 23, 2016

May 23, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC

Little Toy Soldiers

Little Toy Soldiers going off to war None will ever live to see age twenty four None of them even know what they're fighting for Little Toy Soldiers going off to war The world has always been this way With Emperors and Kings Fighting with toy soldiers And the glory that it brings Land, beliefs, religion The basis of the war fought by young toy soldiers Who all die by the score Time has taught us nothing But, it's changed the way we fight War is a full day job Now that it is fought at night The boards of little armies Are now shown up on the screen With all the little soldiers Lit in different shades of green They used to be all metal Painted up in nice bright shades With a General on horseback Leading all his smart brigades Then, the men were plastic glued to bits of wood Behaving as a unit Just like a soldier should Now, the war is different They're up there in different hues You can watch them fight in real time Just like on the nightly news The only thing remaining The thing that's stayed the same Is that nobody in power Know the Little Soldiers names Little Toy Soldiers going off to war None will ever live to see age twenty four None of them even know what they're fighting for Little Toy Soldiers going off to war

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Men of the Twenty-first Up by the Chalk Pit Wood, Weak with our wounds and our thirst, Wanting our sleep and our food, After a day and a night -- God, shall we ever forget! Beaten and broke in the fight, But sticking it -- sticking it yet. Trying to hold the line, Fainting and spent and done, Always the thud and the whine, Always the yell of the *** Northumerland, Lancaster, York, Durham and Somerset, Fighting alone, worn to the bone, But sticking it -- sticking it yet. Never a message of hope! Never a word of cheer! Fronting Hill 70's shell-swept slope, With the dull dead plain in our rear. Always the whine of the shell, Always the roar of its burst, Always the tortures of hell, As waiting and wincing we cursed Our luck and the guns and the Boche, When our Corporal shouted, "Stand to!" And I heard some one cry, "Clear the front for the Guards!" And the Guards came through. Our throats they were parched and hot, But Lord, if you'd heard the cheers! Irish and Welsh and Scot, Coldstream and Grenadiers. Two brigades, if you please, Dressing as straight as a hem, We -- we were down on our knees, Praying for us and for them! Lord, I could speak for a week, But how could you understand! How should your cheeks be wet, Such feelin's don't come to you. But when can me or my mates forget, When the Guards came through? "Five yards left extend!" It passed from rank to rank. Line after line with never a bend, And a touch of the London swank. A trifle of swank and dash, Cool as a home parade, Twinkle and glitter and flash, Flinching never a shade, With the shrapnel right in their face Doing their Hyde Park stunt, Keeping their swing at an easy pace, Arms at the trail, eyes front! Man, it was great to see! Man, it was fine to do! It's a cot and a hospital ward for me, But I'll tell'em in Blighty, whereever I be, How the Guards came through.

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3.1k

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

The Guards Came Through

Men of the Twenty-first Up by the Chalk Pit Wood, Weak with our wounds and our thirst, Wanting our sleep and our food, After a day and a night -- God, shall we ever forget! Beaten and broke in the fight, But sticking it -- sticking it yet. Trying to hold the line, Fainting and spent and done, Always the thud and the whine, Always the yell of the *** Northumerland, Lancaster, York, Durham and Somerset, Fighting alone, worn to the bone, But sticking it -- sticking it yet. Never a message of hope! Never a word of cheer! Fronting Hill 70's shell-swept slope, With the dull dead plain in our rear. Always the whine of the shell, Always the roar of its burst, Always the tortures of hell, As waiting and wincing we cursed Our luck and the guns and the Boche, When our Corporal shouted, "Stand to!" And I heard some one cry, "Clear the front for the Guards!" And the Guards came through. Our throats they were parched and hot, But Lord, if you'd heard the cheers! Irish and Welsh and Scot, Coldstream and Grenadiers. Two brigades, if you please, Dressing as straight as a hem, We -- we were down on our knees, Praying for us and for them! Lord, I could speak for a week, But how could you understand! How should your cheeks be wet, Such feelin's don't come to you. But when can me or my mates forget, When the Guards came through? "Five yards left extend!" It passed from rank to rank. Line after line with never a bend, And a touch of the London swank. A trifle of swank and dash, Cool as a home parade, Twinkle and glitter and flash, Flinching never a shade, With the shrapnel right in their face Doing their Hyde Park stunt, Keeping their swing at an easy pace, Arms at the trail, eyes front! Man, it was great to see! Man, it was fine to do! It's a cot and a hospital ward for me, But I'll tell'em in Blighty, whereever I be, How the Guards came through.

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How brave are our fire brigades? As they battle bushfires each day, Yes, it's summer in Victoria, Not exactly the Waldorf Astoria, For all the fire brigades, Our respect they've totally gained, Laying their lives on the line, When the weather's too hot and fine, Burn, Victoria, burn, El Nino's torrid urn, Our noble defenders each day, Real heroes in the news, I say, As they battle bushfires today, How brave are the fire brigades?

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Nov 17, 2015

Nov 17, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC

A TRIBUTE TO THE FIRE BRIGADES.

How brave are our fire brigades? As they battle bushfires each day, Yes, it's summer in Victoria, Not exactly the Waldorf Astoria, For all the fire brigades, Our respect they've totally gained, Laying their lives on the line, When the weather's too hot and fine, Burn, Victoria, burn, El Nino's torrid urn, Our noble defenders each day, Real heroes in the news, I say, As they battle bushfires today, How brave are the fire brigades?

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Behind the pomp and circumstance The celebrations and parades Remember those who battled The platoons and the brigades Take some time to think now Of the freedoms we possess Of who fought the battle Those who didn't second guess Respect the soldiers duty Give thanks to those who served A handshake and a smile Is worth a thousand words It might be a long weekend That many now will never see Think of them this weekend And give their life some dignity Now, go and have a hotdog Ride the float in the parade Enjoy the fireworks exploding Have a Happy Memorial Day

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May 24, 2015

May 24, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC

Behind the pomp and circumstance The celebrations and parades Remember those who battled The platoons and the brigades Take some time to think now Of the freedoms we possess Of who fought the battle Those who didn't second guess Respect the soldiers duty Give thanks to those who served A handshake and a smile Is worth a thousand words It might be a long weekend That many now will never see Think of them this weekend And give their life some dignity Now, go and have a hotdog Ride the float in the parade Enjoy the fireworks exploding Have a Happy Memorial Day

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I have to admit That I immediately knew what the media meant As I grew up I drew out- Side lines Meaning kinds when you omit the 'n' so I'm sent To set askew a few lies, yes my butterfly knife flies like a feather pen oh I've been A berserker moving farther Further herding words heard for war it's forward But since before he was drafted roughly but justly Just to sink in ink engrafted ****** because he's Made for brigades who blockade it to shock it Force it shoot it and make it play its poor music to Bach it Oh face it, we rock it The battalion's out there and they're shouting I'm silent but they rattle Yeah my rabble of stallions, they're rowdy But of course, off course it is not all Norse my love because They say the other north Yeah your horizontal course turned up with a Tincture of madness And that is the one, single error and I'm glad of it If you catch it Maybe a troublemaker by nature but baby a peace speaker missing demeanor With misdemeanors when getting meaner But I practice a bit In an out-there train re-accident be- Cause the battalion's out there while they're shouting I'm silent but they rattle rapidly Yeah my rabble of battle lions rabid To vaporize vapid rabbits They're rowdy and And love is getting much louder than growling it's It's sounding much louder than growling

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May 12, 2014

May 12, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC

Berserker (Much Louder Than Growling)

I have to admit That I immediately knew what the media meant As I grew up I drew out- Side lines Meaning kinds when you omit the 'n' so I'm sent To set askew a few lies, yes my butterfly knife flies like a feather pen oh I've been A berserker moving farther Further herding words heard for war it's forward But since before he was drafted roughly but justly Just to sink in ink engrafted ****** because he's Made for brigades who blockade it to shock it Force it shoot it and make it play its poor music to Bach it Oh face it, we rock it The battalion's out there and they're shouting I'm silent but they rattle Yeah my rabble of stallions, they're rowdy But of course, off course it is not all Norse my love because They say the other north Yeah your horizontal course turned up with a Tincture of madness And that is the one, single error and I'm glad of it If you catch it Maybe a troublemaker by nature but baby a peace speaker missing demeanor With misdemeanors when getting meaner But I practice a bit In an out-there train re-accident be- Cause the battalion's out there while they're shouting I'm silent but they rattle rapidly Yeah my rabble of battle lions rabid To vaporize vapid rabbits They're rowdy and And love is getting much louder than growling it's It's sounding much louder than growling

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Soft shelter I urge your preternatural brigades of perspective to ground my resignation in some hypothetical formation of inclined leisure If I'm treading mere chance in my hope then I urge you not to simply humour me with sly tomorrows assuring optimism in the brittle molts of days shrinking to reveal solar aspirations I'll turn my back to the broken weather like a naked sibling There is nothing humourous in humouring though I've taken it in self-destructive perpetuity Tie me to the rack of realism like Odysseus before the Sirens I'll sigh and swallow yet another new medication one for soft shelter in compounded sleep where perspectives hide and the chemicals of moods long dismantled congregate behind blindfolds of destiny's clumsy executioners

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May 24, 2014

May 24, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC

THROUGH WITH KEEPING SCORE

Soft shelter I urge your preternatural brigades of perspective to ground my resignation in some hypothetical formation of inclined leisure If I'm treading mere chance in my hope then I urge you not to simply humour me with sly tomorrows assuring optimism in the brittle molts of days shrinking to reveal solar aspirations I'll turn my back to the broken weather like a naked sibling There is nothing humourous in humouring though I've taken it in self-destructive perpetuity Tie me to the rack of realism like Odysseus before the Sirens I'll sigh and swallow yet another new medication one for soft shelter in compounded sleep where perspectives hide and the chemicals of moods long dismantled congregate behind blindfolds of destiny's clumsy executioners

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My femininity is not found in submissive glances to the handsome gentleman standing next to the apples. And as I’m gingerly picking up bananas, hoping he notices how I slowly caress the yellow skin. My femininity isn’t found in hours spent in front of my mirror every morning putting on a face full of makeup, enhancing my natural beauty amongst the lipstick and perfectly applied winged eyeliner. My femininity isn’t found in clothes that hug my curves and accenting my child bear hips; inviting you to take a second glance. It isn’t found in a well placed compliment and a giggle and a smile that’s strokes your ego and make your testosterone burn in your veins. It’s found in my laugh, my tears, my passionate screams when the rest of the world lay quiet. It’s found in bubble baths and empowering women and teaching little girls that their power isn’t held in the palm of a man. It’s found in my presence as I walk in a room, unapologetically powerful as I need no compliments from you. It’s found in my words, nurturing ways and my refusal to let you not be accountable for your ******** My femininity smells of tears, whiskey and cigarette smoke; if it makes your eyes water I implore you to leave the room. It’s laughs that are too loud, words that are too offensive and a mind that will make you question your ideas of the world. I smell weakness and I revolt out the back door, I have no use for the likes of small minded individuals. I know my worth and I refuse to lower my standards so your ego can swell. It’s found in leggings and sweats and braless brigades. It’s found in wild untameable hair that is full of secrets that I guard with a seething vengeance. It’s found in arms outstretched to my children who I will raise to be good men, who if they so much as make another woman feel uncomfortable will deal with the wrath of their mother and they will be sliced into hero’s. My boys will know how to find a woman, and if found she must be treasured and held to the highest of respect. My femininity’s foundation is found in power and preservation. It is found in a smart forked tongue with a wild and brilliant mind; you will feel it as I walk through the door and I do not need to prove it to you.

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Feb 3, 2018

Feb 3, 2018 at 11:41 AM UTC

My femininity is not found in submissive glances to the handsome gentleman standing next to the apples. And as I’m gingerly picking up bananas, hoping he notices how I slowly caress the yellow skin. My femininity isn’t found in hours spent in front of my mirror every morning putting on a face full of makeup, enhancing my natural beauty amongst the lipstick and perfectly applied winged eyeliner. My femininity isn’t found in clothes that hug my curves and accenting my child bear hips; inviting you to take a second glance. It isn’t found in a well placed compliment and a giggle and a smile that’s strokes your ego and make your testosterone burn in your veins. It’s found in my laugh, my tears, my passionate screams when the rest of the world lay quiet. It’s found in bubble baths and empowering women and teaching little girls that their power isn’t held in the palm of a man. It’s found in my presence as I walk in a room, unapologetically powerful as I need no compliments from you. It’s found in my words, nurturing ways and my refusal to let you not be accountable for your ******** My femininity smells of tears, whiskey and cigarette smoke; if it makes your eyes water I implore you to leave the room. It’s laughs that are too loud, words that are too offensive and a mind that will make you question your ideas of the world. I smell weakness and I revolt out the back door, I have no use for the likes of small minded individuals. I know my worth and I refuse to lower my standards so your ego can swell. It’s found in leggings and sweats and braless brigades. It’s found in wild untameable hair that is full of secrets that I guard with a seething vengeance. It’s found in arms outstretched to my children who I will raise to be good men, who if they so much as make another woman feel uncomfortable will deal with the wrath of their mother and they will be sliced into hero’s. My boys will know how to find a woman, and if found she must be treasured and held to the highest of respect. My femininity’s foundation is found in power and preservation. It is found in a smart forked tongue with a wild and brilliant mind; you will feel it as I walk through the door and I do not need to prove it to you.

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It’s a firework holiday, so let’s light up the night, wave the stars and stripes, eat barbecue and drink bud light. We’ll celebrate the liberties that SCOTUS says we’ve got it appears they’ve all been bought and before their terms are over they’ll resurrect Dred Scott. Watermelon, hot wings we’ve even added new things, like smash & grab lootings and frequent, random shootings. Some Republicans want to break away to form a less perfect union can you form a successful nation based on the politics of illusion? There used to be parades I’m told, that featured local things, like firefighting brigades I guess we’re just to fractured now, to sashay in such displays. I bet those were the days.

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Jul 4, 2023

Jul 4, 2023 at 12:21 PM UTC

It’s a firework holiday, so let’s light up the night, wave the stars and stripes, eat barbecue and drink bud light. We’ll celebrate the liberties that SCOTUS says we’ve got it appears they’ve all been bought and before their terms are over they’ll resurrect Dred Scott. Watermelon, hot wings we’ve even added new things, like smash & grab lootings and frequent, random shootings. Some Republicans want to break away to form a less perfect union can you form a successful nation based on the politics of illusion? There used to be parades I’m told, that featured local things, like firefighting brigades I guess we’re just to fractured now, to sashay in such displays. I bet those were the days.

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Now In This Day And Age... of... Cancel Brigades... !?! You Can’t Afford To Be Afraid... To... HAVE YOUR SAY... !!! Our... Freedom of Speech... Is A Basic Right... RIGHT... ?!? Or Is It Being DENIED... When Certain Websites... Are Now DICTATING... What People Are Saying... On Their Website Pages... From Average Heads... To... Ex-Presidents... !!! Free Speech Dumped... And Stumped Liked Trump... !!! When It Comes To Airing Views... That Don’t Have Proof... Or Hold Values... That Are Proved To Speak TRUTH... But... Is THAT TRUE... ?!? Cos’ Who’s Fooling Who... When It Comes To The News... ? And Speech On Vaccines... Because Any Kind of Speech... Linking Them To 5G... Is QUICKLY Deemed... To Be Some Kind of THEORY... That Is... PURE FALLACY... !!! And A Conspiracy That... Has NO Basis In FACT... !!! But That Shouldn’t Mean... That Those Whose Beliefs... Do Not Agree... With Those Who Lead... And Speak On TV... Now Should NOT Be Heard... Or Be Allowed To Be Seen... !?! So Folks HAVE YOUR SAY... !!! ..... WITHOUT DELAY..... !!! Because It’s Okay To Disagree... With Mainstream Teams... And What They MANDATE... !!! As Well As DICTATE... Pretty Much EVERYDAY... !!! Into Peoples Pysches... And In Turn Their Mind States... As Being What’s RIGHT... And The Truth About Why... We’re Needing Lockdowns... And Vaccinations To Get Around... And Have Vacations In NICE Locations... !!! So... HAVE YOUR SAY... Because THEY Have THEIRS... !!! Those With FAME... And These WEALTHY Heirs... !!! Who Speak FREELY... EVEN When Their Speech... Is HATEFUL And MEAN... !!!!! Like *** MP’s... And Presidents Seen... In... TWENTY TWENTY... !!! And As For The Blender... of Modern Day Genders... Are People NOT FREE... To Air The Kind of Speech... That Doesn’t Agree... With How They Be... ?!? Anti Hate Laws... Have Come QUICKLY... !!! While Racists Seem... To Just Make Apologies... And Don’t Get As Much Grief... From These Cancel Police... When They Use Terms... Like... “ Piccaninnies “... !?! Double Standards And... ...... MUCH HYPOCRISY...... !!! Go With Policies... That Now SUDDENLY... Have Come To The FORE... In A Time Where Disease... Is RUINING MORE... Than Economies... !!! Freedoms SHREDDED... Whilst Normalcy’s Presented... ... In A Whole NEW Way... !!! So HAVE YOUR SAY... !!! Before It’s TOO LATE... !!! And BEFORE Things Sway... Towards Police States... Being What We Face... ALL OVER The Place... !!! Don’t Delay And Wait... And THEN COMPLAIN... ?!? When You Are Told... To Keep Your Mouth Closed... By Those Who Control... !!! Who Don’t Seem To Know... How They Should Behave... In Political Zones... !?! They’re Being Exposed... And Being Shamed... More And More Nowadays... !!! So Before They Make Claims... And Laws That Change... How People Can Relate... Their Views On Their Ways... And Demands That They Make... That Are Found To Be FAKE... !!! Don’t Make The Mistake... of Choosing To WAIT... Because Your AFRAID... To Voice Your Opinion... On Things Like Dominion... Gender And Prescriptions... Now Causing Divisions... !!! RESTRICTIONS To Living... And FREEDOM of THINKING... I Suggest You Make SURE... That You DO NOT DELAY... When It Comes To The FREEDOM... To... ..... “Have Your Say”..... !!!

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Sep 27, 2021

Sep 27, 2021 at 10:10 PM UTC

“Have Your Say” ... A Poem written by Big Virge 30/6/2021

Now In This Day And Age... of... Cancel Brigades... !?! You Can’t Afford To Be Afraid... To... HAVE YOUR SAY... !!! Our... Freedom of Speech... Is A Basic Right... RIGHT... ?!? Or Is It Being DENIED... When Certain Websites... Are Now DICTATING... What People Are Saying... On Their Website Pages... From Average Heads... To... Ex-Presidents... !!! Free Speech Dumped... And Stumped Liked Trump... !!! When It Comes To Airing Views... That Don’t Have Proof... Or Hold Values... That Are Proved To Speak TRUTH... But... Is THAT TRUE... ?!? Cos’ Who’s Fooling Who... When It Comes To The News... ? And Speech On Vaccines... Because Any Kind of Speech... Linking Them To 5G... Is QUICKLY Deemed... To Be Some Kind of THEORY... That Is... PURE FALLACY... !!! And A Conspiracy That... Has NO Basis In FACT... !!! But That Shouldn’t Mean... That Those Whose Beliefs... Do Not Agree... With Those Who Lead... And Speak On TV... Now Should NOT Be Heard... Or Be Allowed To Be Seen... !?! So Folks HAVE YOUR SAY... !!! ..... WITHOUT DELAY..... !!! Because It’s Okay To Disagree... With Mainstream Teams... And What They MANDATE... !!! As Well As DICTATE... Pretty Much EVERYDAY... !!! Into Peoples Pysches... And In Turn Their Mind States... As Being What’s RIGHT... And The Truth About Why... We’re Needing Lockdowns... And Vaccinations To Get Around... And Have Vacations In NICE Locations... !!! So... HAVE YOUR SAY... Because THEY Have THEIRS... !!! Those With FAME... And These WEALTHY Heirs... !!! Who Speak FREELY... EVEN When Their Speech... Is HATEFUL And MEAN... !!!!! Like *** MP’s... And Presidents Seen... In... TWENTY TWENTY... !!! And As For The Blender... of Modern Day Genders... Are People NOT FREE... To Air The Kind of Speech... That Doesn’t Agree... With How They Be... ?!? Anti Hate Laws... Have Come QUICKLY... !!! While Racists Seem... To Just Make Apologies... And Don’t Get As Much Grief... From These Cancel Police... When They Use Terms... Like... “ Piccaninnies “... !?! Double Standards And... ...... MUCH HYPOCRISY...... !!! Go With Policies... That Now SUDDENLY... Have Come To The FORE... In A Time Where Disease... Is RUINING MORE... Than Economies... !!! Freedoms SHREDDED... Whilst Normalcy’s Presented... ... In A Whole NEW Way... !!! So HAVE YOUR SAY... !!! Before It’s TOO LATE... !!! And BEFORE Things Sway... Towards Police States... Being What We Face... ALL OVER The Place... !!! Don’t Delay And Wait... And THEN COMPLAIN... ?!? When You Are Told... To Keep Your Mouth Closed... By Those Who Control... !!! Who Don’t Seem To Know... How They Should Behave... In Political Zones... !?! They’re Being Exposed... And Being Shamed... More And More Nowadays... !!! So Before They Make Claims... And Laws That Change... How People Can Relate... Their Views On Their Ways... And Demands That They Make... That Are Found To Be FAKE... !!! Don’t Make The Mistake... of Choosing To WAIT... Because Your AFRAID... To Voice Your Opinion... On Things Like Dominion... Gender And Prescriptions... Now Causing Divisions... !!! RESTRICTIONS To Living... And FREEDOM of THINKING... I Suggest You Make SURE... That You DO NOT DELAY... When It Comes To The FREEDOM... To... ..... “Have Your Say”..... !!!

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We followed the girl with the flossy blonde wig like she were the march hare- late late late. I was in an art deco trapeze top and size 3 blue jeans, Lord & Taylor boots I bought with a 100 dollar gift card. 15, freshly single, pregamed, and ready to blend in with the co-eds. Flossy Blonde was short and thin- in a red number walking way fast to the apartment I think we were invited to. The crew I was with was incredibly drunk and incredibly gay and I couldn't wait to go to a real party. Flossy Blonde disappears into a doorway- with generic flashing dorm-room lights spilling out of it along with cigarette brigades of Tweedle dee and Tweedle dum. I didn't know it then, but those seniors couldn't escape expectation. There was a pole installed in the middle of the room. A caterpillar man in a tiny suit and bow tie, big hipster glasses, was grinding to Gaga on it, There was no tea- but everyone was equipped with jungle juice that made them bigger or smaller. Flossy blonde was there getting her drink on, throwing her hips around. Her cotton-tail wiggled a little. Passion red lights flashed on her outfit. I danced with her, and this what would now be called "bro" but then just an unavoidable deterrence with a fractioned hat. My vision was getting blurry- must have been the kool-aid. And now my memory is, too, because I keep thinking The Queen of Hearts was there cheering us on- Because a purple cat meowed "We want to see you kiss!" And so I gave Flossy Blonde a sloppy one- and the room erupted with lava loudness, ruckus and applause. She giggled a little- as we sat on a love seat, I proceeded to exclaim, "I kiss way better when I'm not sloshed." and then I woke up under a tree.

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Dec 14, 2014

Dec 14, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC

First Out Kiss Wonderland

We followed the girl with the flossy blonde wig like she were the march hare- late late late. I was in an art deco trapeze top and size 3 blue jeans, Lord & Taylor boots I bought with a 100 dollar gift card. 15, freshly single, pregamed, and ready to blend in with the co-eds. Flossy Blonde was short and thin- in a red number walking way fast to the apartment I think we were invited to. The crew I was with was incredibly drunk and incredibly gay and I couldn't wait to go to a real party. Flossy Blonde disappears into a doorway- with generic flashing dorm-room lights spilling out of it along with cigarette brigades of Tweedle dee and Tweedle dum. I didn't know it then, but those seniors couldn't escape expectation. There was a pole installed in the middle of the room. A caterpillar man in a tiny suit and bow tie, big hipster glasses, was grinding to Gaga on it, There was no tea- but everyone was equipped with jungle juice that made them bigger or smaller. Flossy blonde was there getting her drink on, throwing her hips around. Her cotton-tail wiggled a little. Passion red lights flashed on her outfit. I danced with her, and this what would now be called "bro" but then just an unavoidable deterrence with a fractioned hat. My vision was getting blurry- must have been the kool-aid. And now my memory is, too, because I keep thinking The Queen of Hearts was there cheering us on- Because a purple cat meowed "We want to see you kiss!" And so I gave Flossy Blonde a sloppy one- and the room erupted with lava loudness, ruckus and applause. She giggled a little- as we sat on a love seat, I proceeded to exclaim, "I kiss way better when I'm not sloshed." and then I woke up under a tree.

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We look on the shoulders filling the stage of the Chicago Auditorium. A fat mayor has spoken much English and the mud of his speech is crossed with quicksilver hisses elusive and rapid from floor and gallery. A neat governor speaks English and the listeners ring chimes to his clear thoughts. Joffre speaks a few words in French; this is a voice of the long firing line that runs from the salt sea dunes of Flanders to the white spear crags of the Swiss mountains. This is the man on whose yes and no has hung the death of battalions and brigades; this man speaks of the tricolor of his country now melted in a great resolve with the starred bunting of Lincoln and Washington. This is the hero of the Marne, massive, irreckonable; he lets tears roll down his cheek; they trickle a wet salt off his chin onto the blue coat. There is a play of American hands and voices equal to sea-breakers and a lift of white sun on a stony beach.

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1.2k

We look on the shoulders filling the stage of the Chicago Auditorium. A fat mayor has spoken much English and the mud of his speech is crossed with quicksilver hisses elusive and rapid from floor and gallery. A neat governor speaks English and the listeners ring chimes to his clear thoughts. Joffre speaks a few words in French; this is a voice of the long firing line that runs from the salt sea dunes of Flanders to the white spear crags of the Swiss mountains. This is the man on whose yes and no has hung the death of battalions and brigades; this man speaks of the tricolor of his country now melted in a great resolve with the starred bunting of Lincoln and Washington. This is the hero of the Marne, massive, irreckonable; he lets tears roll down his cheek; they trickle a wet salt off his chin onto the blue coat. There is a play of American hands and voices equal to sea-breakers and a lift of white sun on a stony beach.

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I forgot you were there, hiding under winter's slow, grisly grip only ten days into spring you made your return, myriad mounds pocking my pastures dead center, in one of your proudest heaps, I teased you with sweet pear, just to see your ranting red industry though a tiny roach occupied half your tugging army, its only crimes being live birth and waddling through your masses I forgot you were there hunkered in the wet, wormed soil patient, until ninety and one degrees brought you to the desiccating ground you had not forgotten me, had you? for you sent a special sentry from your brigades to find my foot, and welt it with a welcome back kiss in tomorrow‘s heat, after the soldier’s scratching, martyred memory fades, I will forget again, though winter never does

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Apr 3, 2015

Apr 3, 2015 at 11:26 AM UTC

I forgot you were there, hiding under winter's slow, grisly grip only ten days into spring you made your return, myriad mounds pocking my pastures dead center, in one of your proudest heaps, I teased you with sweet pear, just to see your ranting red industry though a tiny roach occupied half your tugging army, its only crimes being live birth and waddling through your masses I forgot you were there hunkered in the wet, wormed soil patient, until ninety and one degrees brought you to the desiccating ground you had not forgotten me, had you? for you sent a special sentry from your brigades to find my foot, and welt it with a welcome back kiss in tomorrow‘s heat, after the soldier’s scratching, martyred memory fades, I will forget again, though winter never does

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they get into your pant sting the fleshiest part concerns they've scant if the bitten is hurt no sooner than dangers they read quickly inject formic acid. easily irritable they're venomous the pain they inflict can't be quietly nursed don't they ever bother size of victim elephantine fat or grasshopper slim just one bite and the crisis is dire body is engulfed in eruptive fire. they grip quite strong before they bite crawl on from left catch you from right not a fair deal was it deserved to be earned thrown in the fire thousand times burned they spread everywhere trees and clothesline upon this earth they're livid landmine. fear them you might curse them abhor can't stop them they're mighty predator one small sting is sparks of whiplash leaving on skin swollen red rash the more you scratch the more leaps the flame be wary of these creatures fire ant by name.

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May 28, 2015

May 28, 2015 at 4:23 AM UTC

pradip-chattopadhyay

The Red Brigades

they get into your pant sting the fleshiest part concerns they've scant if the bitten is hurt no sooner than dangers they read quickly inject formic acid. easily irritable they're venomous the pain they inflict can't be quietly nursed don't they ever bother size of victim elephantine fat or grasshopper slim just one bite and the crisis is dire body is engulfed in eruptive fire. they grip quite strong before they bite crawl on from left catch you from right not a fair deal was it deserved to be earned thrown in the fire thousand times burned they spread everywhere trees and clothesline upon this earth they're livid landmine. fear them you might curse them abhor can't stop them they're mighty predator one small sting is sparks of whiplash leaving on skin swollen red rash the more you scratch the more leaps the flame be wary of these creatures fire ant by name.

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The ravels in my sleeve of care Grow longer every night- Especially in the morning When I struggle back to sleep From waking up too early Only to be bushwhacked By brigades of unsolved problems, Battalions of frustration And whole Armies of defeatment Marching out to meet me. While you’re asleep your secret mind Is solving all the puzzles That unhinge the hours when you’re awake And dodging slings and arrows. That is the scholar’s promise. That is what the con men say In psychiatric clinics Where they write the books Explaining what it means to fly And why we never land when falling. Sleep refreshes and renews- At least that is the theory. It’s not supposed to wear you out And beat you down while dreaming Out the scripts you didn’t write. When the raveling is complete And both my sleeves have come undone Will I dream of flowered fields And happy times, successes and rewarding Or will it end and I no longer dream at all. ljm

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Apr 9, 2017

Apr 9, 2017 at 1:37 AM UTC

LoriJonesMcCaffery

The ravels in my sleeve of care Grow longer every night- Especially in the morning When I struggle back to sleep From waking up too early Only to be bushwhacked By brigades of unsolved problems, Battalions of frustration And whole Armies of defeatment Marching out to meet me. While you’re asleep your secret mind Is solving all the puzzles That unhinge the hours when you’re awake And dodging slings and arrows. That is the scholar’s promise. That is what the con men say In psychiatric clinics Where they write the books Explaining what it means to fly And why we never land when falling. Sleep refreshes and renews- At least that is the theory. It’s not supposed to wear you out And beat you down while dreaming Out the scripts you didn’t write. When the raveling is complete And both my sleeves have come undone Will I dream of flowered fields And happy times, successes and rewarding Or will it end and I no longer dream at all. ljm

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This is a tribute to the greats, The ones who we really rate, We know we're not all saints, Like blessed Mr. Mahatma, Or now Saint Teresa, This is a tribute to our greats, Normal heroes we all rate, Like police and fire brigades, Who protect us from troubled days, We rate volunteers and 'the nurse', Without them, life would be worse, Folk like them make life a better place, A tribute to our mere human greats!

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Sep 16, 2016

Sep 16, 2016 at 1:40 AM UTC

TRIBUTE TO THE GREATS!

This is a tribute to the greats, The ones who we really rate, We know we're not all saints, Like blessed Mr. Mahatma, Or now Saint Teresa, This is a tribute to our greats, Normal heroes we all rate, Like police and fire brigades, Who protect us from troubled days, We rate volunteers and 'the nurse', Without them, life would be worse, Folk like them make life a better place, A tribute to our mere human greats!

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With our colonize wide open we see that these are not standard issues Their mortifier brigades stomp in death march madness And we while cannot avoid the genocide ways glances of iron eyed code stalkers Our very lives stand as evidence that we have endured

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Feb 19, 2014

Feb 19, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC

With our colonize wide open we see that these are not standard issues Their mortifier brigades stomp in death march madness And we while cannot avoid the genocide ways glances of iron eyed code stalkers Our very lives stand as evidence that we have endured

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An admiration for abolition. Close quarters conversation, and demolition. Obstructive outbursts, constructive concerts, and outraged rebellious rallies. They preach round words, and mastered mortality catalysts, soaked like dish towels. Pen and paper, barbed double edged razor wire, and sharp teeth. Hand tapered fine meats; an electrified man- reviver. Perplexed attire, liquor bottles and glass houses. Insane models, fake **** in skin blouses. Weaved baskets of silver trash, and packed ground ashes. The masses, pained by stained caskets, and back lashes. Oblivion shoves, and the brain passes. The sadness. Fertilized territories, and athletes with vein madness. Getting laid, and LED light brigades, November no-shave, and long hair with viking braids. Homeless, with no car and bike less. Filling lungs up with nitrous. Instantly flightless, and magazines full of white ****** spiteness. An officers flashlight kiss. Nervousness, and ****** lips. Love confusion, brought on by a ****** fist. Lucrative ways to hang and sway. Dangle from the chain of a rich gang banger, as he fades to grey. Rude assumptions, and high heeled country bumpkins. Cracking the asphalt with their steel toes thumping. What a great place to be.

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Oct 18, 2015

Oct 18, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC

An admiration for abolition. Close quarters conversation, and demolition. Obstructive outbursts, constructive concerts, and outraged rebellious rallies. They preach round words, and mastered mortality catalysts, soaked like dish towels. Pen and paper, barbed double edged razor wire, and sharp teeth. Hand tapered fine meats; an electrified man- reviver. Perplexed attire, liquor bottles and glass houses. Insane models, fake **** in skin blouses. Weaved baskets of silver trash, and packed ground ashes. The masses, pained by stained caskets, and back lashes. Oblivion shoves, and the brain passes. The sadness. Fertilized territories, and athletes with vein madness. Getting laid, and LED light brigades, November no-shave, and long hair with viking braids. Homeless, with no car and bike less. Filling lungs up with nitrous. Instantly flightless, and magazines full of white ****** spiteness. An officers flashlight kiss. Nervousness, and ****** lips. Love confusion, brought on by a ****** fist. Lucrative ways to hang and sway. Dangle from the chain of a rich gang banger, as he fades to grey. Rude assumptions, and high heeled country bumpkins. Cracking the asphalt with their steel toes thumping. What a great place to be.

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Your name. Wears its own fame. Starting with B. I like how B blows out of my mouth. Like a playful Boo! child’s ambush from a hidden corner or your surprise from behind, hands eclipsing my eyes and kiss in the neck, wistful sighs. R likes to roll on my tongue. Wants to get out - doesn’t want to get out. Jumps, bounce of my teeth and rolls like a train speeding its feet. S likes to become shhhhh… when I put my heavy, tired head on your chest, nest. All vowels and consonants are disciplined solders, creating brigades of syllables, always ready to march, when desire knocks on the door of my mouth. Hurrying deep south.

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Dec 4, 2014

Dec 4, 2014 at 5:30 AM UTC

Your name. Wears its own fame. Starting with B. I like how B blows out of my mouth. Like a playful Boo! child’s ambush from a hidden corner or your surprise from behind, hands eclipsing my eyes and kiss in the neck, wistful sighs. R likes to roll on my tongue. Wants to get out - doesn’t want to get out. Jumps, bounce of my teeth and rolls like a train speeding its feet. S likes to become shhhhh… when I put my heavy, tired head on your chest, nest. All vowels and consonants are disciplined solders, creating brigades of syllables, always ready to march, when desire knocks on the door of my mouth. Hurrying deep south.

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You know the cool advancements over the moon, you are self aware, you have locked the castle and you have the key You are alive, but are you living? New definitions of omnipotence Add-ons to mythology and legends Commemorate the mirages from our travels in the blazing desert The rage is shaking Torrent Mountains Our love is somewhere lost at sea We’re being relocated to skid row by jubilant cherubs Seminal Neanderthals are steadily cupping their hands to somehow try and avert their chances of getting short changed We are living in the faded age The sun is a soggy cancerous being Nihilistic brigades pour out on to the bleak playing field and its side lines Preserving the first shots on the non-guilty Spiddles of blood on the adrenaline fuels catalyst of violence The crickets and aphids are gassed Birth, life, death, after life or after death Forgo this bluff of nothingness, of course there's more You go first into this quest; for the clarity that shatters the idea of our precipitous finales -Tommy Johnson

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Dec 19, 2013

Dec 19, 2013 at 1:14 PM UTC

Dimensional Invocation

You know the cool advancements over the moon, you are self aware, you have locked the castle and you have the key You are alive, but are you living? New definitions of omnipotence Add-ons to mythology and legends Commemorate the mirages from our travels in the blazing desert The rage is shaking Torrent Mountains Our love is somewhere lost at sea We’re being relocated to skid row by jubilant cherubs Seminal Neanderthals are steadily cupping their hands to somehow try and avert their chances of getting short changed We are living in the faded age The sun is a soggy cancerous being Nihilistic brigades pour out on to the bleak playing field and its side lines Preserving the first shots on the non-guilty Spiddles of blood on the adrenaline fuels catalyst of violence The crickets and aphids are gassed Birth, life, death, after life or after death Forgo this bluff of nothingness, of course there's more You go first into this quest; for the clarity that shatters the idea of our precipitous finales -Tommy Johnson

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Look at me with a teacher’s stare through glasses and I see you want to teach me but I want to teach you, too, because I have withstood more pain than I hope you will never feel … Your smile is cordial but I know you crave the arms of desire and you want to learn that fire does not have to singe the soul and one kiss could be more valuable than a million brigades of Hannibal’s elephants … I am polite, I look and listen, but I want to take these beaten hands and slide the glasses off, I want to see your eyes remain open as I lean in and gently kiss you, whispering, ”Everything will be all right.”

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Mar 19, 2013

Mar 19, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC

Under-skin senses

Look at me with a teacher’s stare through glasses and I see you want to teach me but I want to teach you, too, because I have withstood more pain than I hope you will never feel … Your smile is cordial but I know you crave the arms of desire and you want to learn that fire does not have to singe the soul and one kiss could be more valuable than a million brigades of Hannibal’s elephants … I am polite, I look and listen, but I want to take these beaten hands and slide the glasses off, I want to see your eyes remain open as I lean in and gently kiss you, whispering, ”Everything will be all right.”

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I do not know what it is about a bed that compels us to longevity, to slumber eternity in our wildest of dreams. Might it be the warmth of its sheets that invites us to prolong our stay. The wholesome tenderness that hugs us tight in its cover. Tucked into our safety net, a mother's arm to a child, where we only live to love and let die. May it be our sheer will to live the day that chains us to our bedside, a slave to time, a ***** to work. We are but men comprised of exhaustion and sacrifice. A time set aside to pamper ourselves for a while more. A longing to heal a little further, to rejuvenate our spirits a little greater. To fix the dark parts in our lives with black sunsets underneath our eyes, hollowed willow trees in late night dreams carved into our flesh. May it be for a better life, one less bitter and sour, sheltered from the chaos upon us these years. Tyrannies upon our souls, bomb brigades and racketeers. A shelter, a feeding frenzy of tranquility that keeps us grasping onto life. Is my bed but a place where my monsters hide underneath, maybe we sweep our pain underneath the covers and rest shame and guilt on our pillows hoping to bring a rest to our demons of the dark when the sun rises the next day, soldiers forlorn to leave our post till day breaks. Or is our answer, E “all of the above”. Our will beaten till death pulls us apart in our night gowns and whispers “sleep thy will, eternity”. And temptation rages beyond our control with a red flag glued to our hearts tired of the ******** life charges at us.

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Jan 10, 2017

Jan 10, 2017 at 1:09 PM UTC

jesse-ramon-claudio

I do not know what it is about a bed that compels us to longevity, to slumber eternity in our wildest of dreams. Might it be the warmth of its sheets that invites us to prolong our stay. The wholesome tenderness that hugs us tight in its cover. Tucked into our safety net, a mother's arm to a child, where we only live to love and let die. May it be our sheer will to live the day that chains us to our bedside, a slave to time, a ***** to work. We are but men comprised of exhaustion and sacrifice. A time set aside to pamper ourselves for a while more. A longing to heal a little further, to rejuvenate our spirits a little greater. To fix the dark parts in our lives with black sunsets underneath our eyes, hollowed willow trees in late night dreams carved into our flesh. May it be for a better life, one less bitter and sour, sheltered from the chaos upon us these years. Tyrannies upon our souls, bomb brigades and racketeers. A shelter, a feeding frenzy of tranquility that keeps us grasping onto life. Is my bed but a place where my monsters hide underneath, maybe we sweep our pain underneath the covers and rest shame and guilt on our pillows hoping to bring a rest to our demons of the dark when the sun rises the next day, soldiers forlorn to leave our post till day breaks. Or is our answer, E “all of the above”. Our will beaten till death pulls us apart in our night gowns and whispers “sleep thy will, eternity”. And temptation rages beyond our control with a red flag glued to our hearts tired of the ******** life charges at us.

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Thinkin' about the days Of wayback When I was just seed in my daddy's sack Wish I could have avoided the capture But then came the rapture Opened up a new chapter and after The math was settlin' in paradise wasn't friendly then Since we took fruit in garden of Eden Who do you believe in? Spirits witches God devils or djinns Since I was born on earth I knew I was cursed worse to worse Why was I born only for my destiny To end in a hearse I tried to nurse My feelings but that wombs to deep For the natural healing Pain reaching sky's ceiling It makes me wanna holla Why we all chasin the dolla Bustling and hustling Everyday we strive for more But still in end up struggling Juggling over obstacles And to make it it's gonna Take a miracle You see not many notice the change Universe heals it's own pang And shakes us off like fleas please believe If you open your mind out of darkness Let a shine And watch blessing begin to proceed So much pain madness surrounding my brain Conscious higher than a plane insane That most want the fame before game Crime shame everything remains the same Raw is an anagram for war Understand words have power And ya bodies will use it to store Negative to positive meaning We ghost in a shell I learned it well Freedom is an optical illusion Enjoy the fusion as my mind cruisin' Pass the cosmos galaxities fantasies And realities I could manifest dynasties so lovely But I'll just be Lyin' thoughts preoccupied principles laid My anger soon to explode like a grenade Storming brigades thousands of brothers ready to raid No longer afraid afros curls to ****** braids Black nation wake up before we end up Like the tasmanians not a homosapien They can't break me in I'm a brother that's a lost King Long awaiting that's where my soul ties in

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Dec 5, 2017

Dec 5, 2017 at 9:19 PM UTC

Ru7hl355_Gangsta

Thinkin' about the days Of wayback When I was just seed in my daddy's sack Wish I could have avoided the capture But then came the rapture Opened up a new chapter and after The math was settlin' in paradise wasn't friendly then Since we took fruit in garden of Eden Who do you believe in? Spirits witches God devils or djinns Since I was born on earth I knew I was cursed worse to worse Why was I born only for my destiny To end in a hearse I tried to nurse My feelings but that wombs to deep For the natural healing Pain reaching sky's ceiling It makes me wanna holla Why we all chasin the dolla Bustling and hustling Everyday we strive for more But still in end up struggling Juggling over obstacles And to make it it's gonna Take a miracle You see not many notice the change Universe heals it's own pang And shakes us off like fleas please believe If you open your mind out of darkness Let a shine And watch blessing begin to proceed So much pain madness surrounding my brain Conscious higher than a plane insane That most want the fame before game Crime shame everything remains the same Raw is an anagram for war Understand words have power And ya bodies will use it to store Negative to positive meaning We ghost in a shell I learned it well Freedom is an optical illusion Enjoy the fusion as my mind cruisin' Pass the cosmos galaxities fantasies And realities I could manifest dynasties so lovely But I'll just be Lyin' thoughts preoccupied principles laid My anger soon to explode like a grenade Storming brigades thousands of brothers ready to raid No longer afraid afros curls to ****** braids Black nation wake up before we end up Like the tasmanians not a homosapien They can't break me in I'm a brother that's a lost King Long awaiting that's where my soul ties in

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i forgot you on the eve of my 24th celebration of life on this earth and it was as if i finally buried the dead bird that stopped fluttering in my chest a year and a half ago you fought your dirt games with blinding manipulation and all of the hand grenades, switch blades, battle brigades you could muster i stood and watched an old world crumble but laughed aloud at your naivety i had rebuilt this kingdom from ground up and the only master that mattered was me

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Jun 21, 2012

Jun 21, 2012 at 1:43 AM UTC

i forgot you on the eve of my 24th celebration of life on this earth and it was as if i finally buried the dead bird that stopped fluttering in my chest a year and a half ago you fought your dirt games with blinding manipulation and all of the hand grenades, switch blades, battle brigades you could muster i stood and watched an old world crumble but laughed aloud at your naivety i had rebuilt this kingdom from ground up and the only master that mattered was me

Continue reading...