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"convoy" poems
Canned latte, water, fruit punch Rip-It Gulp it, down it, chug it, sip it In the gunner's sling, sway side to side 240B in the cradle, M4 right side Talk of *** Talk of food It's all allowed Nothing's too crude Sometimes you talk Sometimes you listen Don't talk later 'bout what's said on mission Check alleyways, balconies, traffic, rooftops At five miles-an-hour, this convoy never stops Red Bull, Gatorade, citrus Rip-It Gulp it, down it, chug it, sip it In the gunner's sling, sway side to side 240B in the cradle, shotgun left side In the distance, flashes of white light Watch them bloom throughout the green night Was it dust lightning? Was it a bomb? Don't matter to us, this mission carries on Two hours to dawn, eight hours 'til we're done Check balconies, traffic, alleyways, rooftops At five miles-an-hour, this convoy never stops
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Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 3:12 PM UTC
Routine Mounted Patrol
there was no way I could sleep last night traffic kept me awake all throughout the night trucks trundled down my street in an endless convoy they had no consideration for the noise they did employ I finally got to sleep at ten past four as the trucks ceased rolling past my door this afternoon I shall catch a few winks of sleep I shall curl up on the lounge and count sheep
0
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
Truck Convoy
My Estranged Dear Why couldn't we piecemeal the past The pieces that crashed Over dinner and a cup of joe Over the branches that glow Why did the leaves fall from their limbs Before the Autumn hymns Before their time Our days lost in chime Why do two hearts sever alone Confetti tomorrows falling to stone Why my estranged dear do you dread A benevolence served over broken bread A posse of good nature willed In fall of olive branches milled To my estranged dears Collectively over the years I sat in front of the mirror Farther away than nearer Pondering the same sad old song Of where golden went wrong Was it being on the ruler of the river With no catches to deliver Being next to our campfire Small flames freezing your heart's desire Was the heat of the night Dancing in plight Were the words I spoke Just a convoy of smoke Was it sleeping in the restless tent Your pent up passion spent On black bears in others, you see And not in me To my estranged dears My eyes were blind to your fears I admit with regret And knowingly I know my debt Yet I can only wander on the past In hopes that an ember is cast A ruler I was not Though vetted by such for naught Logan Robertson 8/11/2018
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Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:02 PM UTC
To My Estranged Dears
We're out at a bar splitting a good night of cheers Drinks and laughter flowing among peers Double shots dance around the table Tonight's the moment, tomorrow's a fable We garnish the laughter with Halloween What's your costume, how do you swing A chorus of "I'll dress up as a cowboy" Is met by a few rolling eyes, "I'll address their convoy" Not to be excluded is the gay guy in back that chimes in And competes with the rolling eyes, cowboys are mine Laughter of reveries spills faster than the drinks A 80's song, When Doves Cry, continues to play over the links A women crashes the party and exhorts the group Come on guys put your wings on, fly the coup Halloween's around the corner, make a splash, make waves Find your muse with a costume that stands up, and raves Look out to the horizon, the rarefied air, and trick for treats Find my tunnel of love with a costume that beats After a pause, a coy smile surface on rolling eye's lip Oh Melville come with me, come with me, and take a dip Double shots dance around the table Logan Robertson 10/19/17
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Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 3:26 PM UTC
When Doves Laugh and Coo Over Halloween (With Writer's Notes)
I'm twenty seven years old Not, old by any standard But, in my world...I'm seven Seven years removed from an IED Seven years away from the day that changed me Seven years into my new life We were on a routine mission If you can call anything in Khandahar routine Convoy escort, some press folks A country singer and his band And us....always us We were Military Police Bringing 'em in, taking 'em home there we were, Same trip, same road same barren landscape same potholes same, same, same Until November 4th, 2005 Nothing has been the same since then I'm a Sargeant, Military Police William Blankenship Fort Hood, Texas...just a kid...until We were on Operation Squire routine....all routine The first humvee hit an IED flipped right in front of us the bus of civilians, stopped radio chatter like mad Rocket fire took out the Stryker LAV Blew it to bits No survivors We were pinned down We didn't return fire Couldn't....didn't know where to And had to get the civilians to safety We were only 2 miles from base LAVs were on the road immediately I don't remember much about it Just, that it was routine Started with the headaches took about a month Then, the nightmares Sent me back home to get over it To a Veterans Hospital in Texas Still saw the humvee flip Heard the screams Saw the fire, and watched the explosion behind And I wasn't sleeping anymore Couldn't handle bright lights for a time Still can't, but not as bad Doctors said it was PTSD I said, "you think?" What else could it be Two years they kept me in there Two years I saw them die Then...they hooked me up with a service dog New program they said He'd keep me relaxed I couldn't take care of myself And now, they want me to have a dog I said, I'd try it...but no guarantees Said his name was Squire funny....I knew that name from somewhere But, couldn't remember where Big, oafish, Newf he was Like a small fridge with hair And big, brown eyes Squire.... First day he just sat and looked at me Waited until I started to move And he moved with me Came over, and pushed his head under my hand It's been that way ever since I move, he moves I eat, he eats three times as much We bonded pretty quick I still get the dreams, but, Squire knows and he's there Under my hand, calming me down That's all he does, calms me down He doesn't take away the dreams But, he helps I don't know how But, he helps They still die, and I still scream But, not as often Just routine....
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Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 4:29 PM UTC
Squire - a recollection of war
I'm twenty seven years old Not, old by any standard But, in my world...I'm seven Seven years removed from an IED Seven years away from the day that changed me Seven years into my new life We were on a routine mission If you can call anything in Khandahar routine Convoy escort, some press folks A country singer and his band And us....always us We were Military Police Bringing 'em in, taking 'em home there we were, Same trip, same road same barren landscape same potholes same, same, same Until November 4th, 2005 Nothing has been the same since then I'm a Sargeant, Military Police William Blankenship Fort Hood, Texas...just a kid...until We were on Operation Squire routine....all routine The first humvee hit an IED flipped right in front of us the bus of civilians, stopped radio chatter like mad Rocket fire took out the Stryker LAV Blew it to bits No survivors We were pinned down We didn't return fire Couldn't....didn't know where to And had to get the civilians to safety We were only 2 miles from base LAVs were on the road immediately I don't remember much about it Just, that it was routine Started with the headaches took about a month Then, the nightmares Sent me back home to get over it To a Veterans Hospital in Texas Still saw the humvee flip Heard the screams Saw the fire, and watched the explosion behind And I wasn't sleeping anymore Couldn't handle bright lights for a time Still can't, but not as bad Doctors said it was PTSD I said, "you think?" What else could it be Two years they kept me in there Two years I saw them die Then...they hooked me up with a service dog New program they said He'd keep me relaxed I couldn't take care of myself And now, they want me to have a dog I said, I'd try it...but no guarantees Said his name was Squire funny....I knew that name from somewhere But, couldn't remember where Big, oafish, Newf he was Like a small fridge with hair And big, brown eyes Squire.... First day he just sat and looked at me Waited until I started to move And he moved with me Came over, and pushed his head under my hand It's been that way ever since I move, he moves I eat, he eats three times as much We bonded pretty quick I still get the dreams, but, Squire knows and he's there Under my hand, calming me down That's all he does, calms me down He doesn't take away the dreams But, he helps I don't know how But, he helps They still die, and I still scream But, not as often Just routine....
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It ain’t too bad to be from there Just ask my family and friends But it’s too flat, ain’t no way out The roads are all dead ends. Sometime soon I’ll find a place Where the music I’ll enjoy But for now I keep on tryin’ To escape from Illinois! There’s a river on the border west That moves a lot of dirt Mighty Muddy Mississipp Drowns the pain and covers hurt Yeah, I’m movin’ south to New Orleans Maybe I can find employ In a blues bar down on Bourbon Street Escape from Illinois! Well I stopped a week along the way When I saw the Gateway Arch. But the folks out by the airport Were stagin’ up a march. Seems a white cop fired a shot that killed An unarmed teenage boy Oh yeah, the teenage boy was black, Escape from Illinois. Kept walkin’ to the Landing (Named for Pierre Laclede) It has most every thing you want But nothing that you need Some travelin’ folk told me some news That made me jump for joy Memphis maybe had some work Escape from Illinois! Found the haunted house called Graceland And the grave where Elvis lay Where half a million go each year (Fifteen thousand every day) They all want to pay respects To the rockin’ – rollin’ boy Put their finger in the bullet holes Escape from Illinois. Went downtown, knocked on some doors Once or twice I went inside But Beale Street was broken The travelin’ folks had lied. ‘Cuz there ain’t no jobs in Memphis, Or maybe I’m too coy So I hitched a ride to Nashville Escape from Illinois. Nashville’s a big old meltin’ *** Lots of great ones started here But most end up as tourists Getting’ ****** and drinkin’ beer So money’s at a premium And fame’s a fake decoy End up workin’ in a record store Escape from Illinois? From Asheville to Atlanta From Austin to LA From Biloxi back to Baton Rouge Need a place where I can play I’ll follow all the buskers, Form a musical convoy Livin’ day by day and town by town Escape from Illinois! I’m a minstrel, like a rubber band I keep on snappin’ back I’m gonna make it somewhere Singing somewhere, that’s a fact Got my guitar and my music Gotta do what I enjoy Find a place to sing my songs for you, Hell, it may be Illinois! Phil Lindsey  6/4/15
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
Escape From Illinois
It ain’t too bad to be from there Just ask my family and friends But it’s too flat, ain’t no way out The roads are all dead ends. Sometime soon I’ll find a place Where the music I’ll enjoy But for now I keep on tryin’ To escape from Illinois! There’s a river on the border west That moves a lot of dirt Mighty Muddy Mississipp Drowns the pain and covers hurt Yeah, I’m movin’ south to New Orleans Maybe I can find employ In a blues bar down on Bourbon Street Escape from Illinois! Well I stopped a week along the way When I saw the Gateway Arch. But the folks out by the airport Were stagin’ up a march. Seems a white cop fired a shot that killed An unarmed teenage boy Oh yeah, the teenage boy was black, Escape from Illinois. Kept walkin’ to the Landing (Named for Pierre Laclede) It has most every thing you want But nothing that you need Some travelin’ folk told me some news That made me jump for joy Memphis maybe had some work Escape from Illinois! Found the haunted house called Graceland And the grave where Elvis lay Where half a million go each year (Fifteen thousand every day) They all want to pay respects To the rockin’ – rollin’ boy Put their finger in the bullet holes Escape from Illinois. Went downtown, knocked on some doors Once or twice I went inside But Beale Street was broken The travelin’ folks had lied. ‘Cuz there ain’t no jobs in Memphis, Or maybe I’m too coy So I hitched a ride to Nashville Escape from Illinois. Nashville’s a big old meltin’ *** Lots of great ones started here But most end up as tourists Getting’ ****** and drinkin’ beer So money’s at a premium And fame’s a fake decoy End up workin’ in a record store Escape from Illinois? From Asheville to Atlanta From Austin to LA From Biloxi back to Baton Rouge Need a place where I can play I’ll follow all the buskers, Form a musical convoy Livin’ day by day and town by town Escape from Illinois! I’m a minstrel, like a rubber band I keep on snappin’ back I’m gonna make it somewhere Singing somewhere, that’s a fact Got my guitar and my music Gotta do what I enjoy Find a place to sing my songs for you, Hell, it may be Illinois! Phil Lindsey  6/4/15
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73
HAPPY HAPPY FELLA, HAPPY HAPPY TOO I AM THE HAPPIEST DUDE AROUND I PROVIDE FUN FOR ME AND YOU I AM ******** TO BE A ***** CAUSE I HATE FIGHTING AT THE BAR I REMEMBER WAY BACK WHEN I SAID, I AM NOT INTO DRIVING CARS THESE OLD MATES SAID TO ME, I AM NOT A COOL KID ANYWAY BUT I STILL GO OUT AND ENJOY MYSELF, YEAH YEAH YIPPEE I AY I AM HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY, HAPPY ALL THE DAY I AM THE ONLY COOL KID IN TOWN, YEAH, I AM A HAPPY DUDE ANYWAY OH HAPPY. BOY AM I SO HAPPY, OH HAPPY, HAPPY ALL THE DAY ME AND MY MATE, WE ARE WALKING AROUND LOOKING HAPPY ME AND MY MATE, ARE HAPPY ALL THE DAY OH HAPPY, I AM VERY HAPPY, OH HAPPY THE HAPPIEST DUDE IN TOWN HA HA HA YOU AND ME, I AM THE THE PRINCE OF EVERYONE WHO IS HAPP HAPP HAPPY I PLAY WITH MY IDEAS, FOR CREATIVITY, DUDES I CAN EAT A AWFUL LOT OF FOOD OH HAPPY, I AM ALL VERY HAPPY, OH HAPPY I AM HAPPY ALL THE DAY ME AND MY BROTHER, ARE SPREADING THE WORD OF BEING HAPPY ME AND MY BROTHER ARE HAPPY ALL THE DAY I AM HAPPY, VERY VERY HAPPY I AM HAPPY, RIGHT INTO THE DAY BUDDHA WANTS ME, TO BE VERY HAPPY BUDDHA WANTS ME TO BE HAPPY EVERY DAY OH HAPPY, YEAH DUDE I’M HAPPY, OH HAPPY, CARN DUDES, MAKE ME HAPPY HAPPY HAY ME AND MY DAD AREVERY VERY HAPPY WE PARTY ON DUDES, WE’RE HAPPY ALL THE TIME YA SEE I LOVE PARTYING, TO THE GREAT ANGRY ANDERSON LAST SUNDAY AT CONVOY, I PARTY EVERY DAY I AM HAPPY, VERY VERY HAPPY, I AM HAPPY, EVERY SINGLE DAY ME AND MY MATE PAT ARE VERY VERY HAPPY, IN OUR LIVES WE DON’T **** ANYONE OFF CAUSE WE’RE HAPPY, OH HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY, CAUSE WE’RE HAPPY ALL INTO THE DAY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY DUDE, I AM HAPPY TO BE ALIVE YEAH MATE YEAH HAPPY LIKE AN AUSSIE, AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE, OI OI OI I AM A VERY HAPPY BOY, OH YEAH DUDES
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Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
HAPPY HAPPY ME ME, OI OI OI
HAPPY HAPPY FELLA, HAPPY HAPPY TOO I AM THE HAPPIEST DUDE AROUND I PROVIDE FUN FOR ME AND YOU I AM ******** TO BE A ***** CAUSE I HATE FIGHTING AT THE BAR I REMEMBER WAY BACK WHEN I SAID, I AM NOT INTO DRIVING CARS THESE OLD MATES SAID TO ME, I AM NOT A COOL KID ANYWAY BUT I STILL GO OUT AND ENJOY MYSELF, YEAH YEAH YIPPEE I AY I AM HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY, HAPPY ALL THE DAY I AM THE ONLY COOL KID IN TOWN, YEAH, I AM A HAPPY DUDE ANYWAY OH HAPPY. BOY AM I SO HAPPY, OH HAPPY, HAPPY ALL THE DAY ME AND MY MATE, WE ARE WALKING AROUND LOOKING HAPPY ME AND MY MATE, ARE HAPPY ALL THE DAY OH HAPPY, I AM VERY HAPPY, OH HAPPY THE HAPPIEST DUDE IN TOWN HA HA HA YOU AND ME, I AM THE THE PRINCE OF EVERYONE WHO IS HAPP HAPP HAPPY I PLAY WITH MY IDEAS, FOR CREATIVITY, DUDES I CAN EAT A AWFUL LOT OF FOOD OH HAPPY, I AM ALL VERY HAPPY, OH HAPPY I AM HAPPY ALL THE DAY ME AND MY BROTHER, ARE SPREADING THE WORD OF BEING HAPPY ME AND MY BROTHER ARE HAPPY ALL THE DAY I AM HAPPY, VERY VERY HAPPY I AM HAPPY, RIGHT INTO THE DAY BUDDHA WANTS ME, TO BE VERY HAPPY BUDDHA WANTS ME TO BE HAPPY EVERY DAY OH HAPPY, YEAH DUDE I’M HAPPY, OH HAPPY, CARN DUDES, MAKE ME HAPPY HAPPY HAY ME AND MY DAD AREVERY VERY HAPPY WE PARTY ON DUDES, WE’RE HAPPY ALL THE TIME YA SEE I LOVE PARTYING, TO THE GREAT ANGRY ANDERSON LAST SUNDAY AT CONVOY, I PARTY EVERY DAY I AM HAPPY, VERY VERY HAPPY, I AM HAPPY, EVERY SINGLE DAY ME AND MY MATE PAT ARE VERY VERY HAPPY, IN OUR LIVES WE DON’T **** ANYONE OFF CAUSE WE’RE HAPPY, OH HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY, CAUSE WE’RE HAPPY ALL INTO THE DAY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY DUDE, I AM HAPPY TO BE ALIVE YEAH MATE YEAH HAPPY LIKE AN AUSSIE, AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE, OI OI OI I AM A VERY HAPPY BOY, OH YEAH DUDES
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Mind worries as sun blazes dwindling up water sources held so close like precious treasure, As earth spins, yearning for change!! Soil waits in anticipation Longing for monsoon’s gentle touch and to hear stories from heavenly sky gathered by collective clouds!! Leaves stretch out their eager hands, While roof tops become willing recipients To embrace the raindrops As convoy from the sky above!! Mind dances as if on cloud nine As celebration of renewal Of dried-up life and leaves... Waiting for the splash of rain across every breeze in its way... Of lone long walks with no barriers between soul and heaven!!
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Mar 12, 2024
Mar 12, 2024 at 7:33 AM UTC
wait
Around a big glass table reflecting chandeliers suits, oxford knotted ties, long tongues gathered to move an anti-aircraft division across the western border straddling two different opinions. at dusk under the silk of darkness the satellites zoomed in on the convoy of green dressed camouflaged trucks, Slinking down the back roads under infra-red eyes six hundred kms across the mountains to take up new positions. At dawn the satellites spoke to each other and defied opinions made at the round table. The longest tongue now hanging out in sheer delight at operation well done, like steak! Without discussion the satellites ordered the trucks back to where they came from! When the war began the anti-aircraft guns were ready and waiting for the enemy in the wrong location. A flock of geese migrating from Canada to Kazakhstan were met with missiles attracted by the metal tags researchers had strapped around their ankles. As the feathers settled into the waiting valley two satellites in outer space laughed at each others games And switched off.
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Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
War Games
Everyone is odium to empty space Because, It doesn't have anything to convoy! Everyone is disgust about empty space Because, It doesn't have anything to perturb! Everyone have repulsion to empty space Because, Everyone is dithering to talk with self! But I am searching for that, But Incapable to mark out The empty space To talk with self! Searching for empty space For Departing from everything Searching for empty space To Verify my sin and accomplishment! If you have any information Please intimate me With its boundary information and Milestone of air, water, soil and life!
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Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
Empty space
sing me a story sing me a song sing me old country it's where I belong so sing me a story and I'll come along sing me a story an old country song Are the lights still out in Georgia? Is the man in black in jail? How are things in old El Paso? Sing a song and tell a tale Did the devil win his fiddle? How's the Harper Valley PTA? Did they ever stop that convoy? Is he loving her today? sing me a story sing me a song sing me old country it's where I belong so sing me a story and I'll come along sing me a story an old country song Is there a red headed stranger? What went off that bridge in June? Did the gambler ever fold them? What was howling at the moon? Is Donna Fargo still that happy? Do you smell whiskey in the air? Is the circle still unbroken? Is there an angel hiding there? sing me a story sing me a song sing me old country it's where I belong so sing me a story and I'll come along sing me a story an old country song
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Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
sing me a story
travelling caravan this convoy is not stopping soon
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Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 7:24 AM UTC
travelling caravan
* Since you illuminated my SOUL Since your light pierced my being Since our LOVE happened... I am not eager for a journey I do not desire a caravan I do not yearn for a convoy I do not belong here I do not belong there I do not fit in a family I do not jell with friends The only thing that excites me is "YOU" BELOVEDZ, Belovedz, belovedz... The blessing of LOVE within me Desires "me" living in "YOU" The reward of seeking inner soul I desire to live in your being If there is ever any cure Of the good longing of my LOVE It is nothing but merging within YOU It is nothing but dying for YOU That's how and why "Nature" Presented YOU to my soul The divine healer for my devil LOVE Your eyes are medicine I drink The same medicine poisons my heart Becoming one with you is the only desire left It is my honor - our LOVE HAPPENED It will be a BIGGER honor I annihilate in YOU and YOUR LOVE I give my breathe in your LOVE I give my heart, my body, my life in your LOVE Though I've not decided to hold-on to your LOVE There is no way I can let go of your LOVE It's YOUR LOVE that beholds me and my being YOUR LOVE is the final destination of my LIFE YOUR LOVE was the thing Buddhists sought NIRVANA Yes, this is what your LOVE is all about Only those who LOVE Will understand the plight of my LOVE The sorrow, grief and misery of a LOVERz The one who stands tormented Without flinching in the "live-fire" Will understand what it is to be in "LOVE" My poem is for the flame - BELOVEDZ My poem is for the moth - LOVERZ No one else can even understand The depth of these poetic words in LOVE "The LOVE story of flame and moth" *
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Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 10:49 PM UTC
The LOVE Story of Flame and Moth
* Since you illuminated my SOUL Since your light pierced my being Since our LOVE happened... I am not eager for a journey I do not desire a caravan I do not yearn for a convoy I do not belong here I do not belong there I do not fit in a family I do not jell with friends The only thing that excites me is "YOU" BELOVEDZ, Belovedz, belovedz... The blessing of LOVE within me Desires "me" living in "YOU" The reward of seeking inner soul I desire to live in your being If there is ever any cure Of the good longing of my LOVE It is nothing but merging within YOU It is nothing but dying for YOU That's how and why "Nature" Presented YOU to my soul The divine healer for my devil LOVE Your eyes are medicine I drink The same medicine poisons my heart Becoming one with you is the only desire left It is my honor - our LOVE HAPPENED It will be a BIGGER honor I annihilate in YOU and YOUR LOVE I give my breathe in your LOVE I give my heart, my body, my life in your LOVE Though I've not decided to hold-on to your LOVE There is no way I can let go of your LOVE It's YOUR LOVE that beholds me and my being YOUR LOVE is the final destination of my LIFE YOUR LOVE was the thing Buddhists sought NIRVANA Yes, this is what your LOVE is all about Only those who LOVE Will understand the plight of my LOVE The sorrow, grief and misery of a LOVERz The one who stands tormented Without flinching in the "live-fire" Will understand what it is to be in "LOVE" My poem is for the flame - BELOVEDZ My poem is for the moth - LOVERZ No one else can even understand The depth of these poetic words in LOVE "The LOVE story of flame and moth" *
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The Italians dreamed of glory Italian tacticians made many mistakes The british surprised them on Dec. 9 British armor raced along the Libyan coast Coastal towns had been turned into fortresses They proved to be no match for the Highly mobile British forces One after another the towns fell to the British The Italian army was trapped By 1941 the British occupied the eastern half of Libya Feb 12, 1941 Rommel took control of the Africa Corps 2 armored divisions 8000 men and 135 tanks   Plus the light infantry division On April 1, the Germans Mark III and Mark IV tanks   Outranged the British The British were pushed back into Egypt However one division remained in Tobruk The infamous and stubborn rats of Tobruk Tobruk held on at first Barely enough food and water to stay alive Tobruk was needed by the Germans For their supply chain Rommel said he would finish Tobruk for good It fell on June 1 1942 Montgomery took control at El Alamein Lend lease supplies came in Axis shipping was badly damaged By Allied air strikes Oct 23, 1942 The British forces moved to the assembly areas The First Battle of El Alamein began The British halted the Axis forces from Advancing into Egypt Oct. 24, 1942 A vast troop convoy Set sail from American ports The next day, two convoys left Britain El Alamein was the first great offensive It coincided with the Battle of Stalingrad And the Battle of Guadalcanal The narrator said, "El Alamein had been the end of the beginning. For the Axis powers It was now the beginning of the end." Churchill said, "It may almost be said, 'Before Alamein we never had a victory. After Alemein we never had a defeat.'
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Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
North Africa
The Italians dreamed of glory Italian tacticians made many mistakes The british surprised them on Dec. 9 British armor raced along the Libyan coast Coastal towns had been turned into fortresses They proved to be no match for the Highly mobile British forces One after another the towns fell to the British The Italian army was trapped By 1941 the British occupied the eastern half of Libya Feb 12, 1941 Rommel took control of the Africa Corps 2 armored divisions 8000 men and 135 tanks   Plus the light infantry division On April 1, the Germans Mark III and Mark IV tanks   Outranged the British The British were pushed back into Egypt However one division remained in Tobruk The infamous and stubborn rats of Tobruk Tobruk held on at first Barely enough food and water to stay alive Tobruk was needed by the Germans For their supply chain Rommel said he would finish Tobruk for good It fell on June 1 1942 Montgomery took control at El Alamein Lend lease supplies came in Axis shipping was badly damaged By Allied air strikes Oct 23, 1942 The British forces moved to the assembly areas The First Battle of El Alamein began The British halted the Axis forces from Advancing into Egypt Oct. 24, 1942 A vast troop convoy Set sail from American ports The next day, two convoys left Britain El Alamein was the first great offensive It coincided with the Battle of Stalingrad And the Battle of Guadalcanal The narrator said, "El Alamein had been the end of the beginning. For the Axis powers It was now the beginning of the end." Churchill said, "It may almost be said, 'Before Alamein we never had a victory. After Alemein we never had a defeat.'
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They're setting up roadblocks, And throwing down spike strips, But I have a cargo that's gonna make it through! Ain't hauling apples, chickens, or farm equipment. I'm hauling one big honking load Of energy and innovation. Smokey's hot on my trail, And he wants to" barbecue my *** in mollases" But he ain't gonna stop me, I'm gonna smash through those barricades. I'm hauling a special load, Full of wisdom and knowledge. Passing car after car, campers and dump trucks, But none are hauling half the load I got. Intellectual assets weighing down my trailer, I blow through the weigh stations. Can't get anyone on the citizens band, All I got is static. So I keep on rolling down this lonesome road, Hauling this heavy load.
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Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 7:02 PM UTC
Can A Fella Get A Convoy?
This year we were not alone. In convoy by car, and now on a lower path, past the ruined cottages with their sagging brickwork past redemption, we had formed a line hard on a hedged path towards a distant wood. And all the while a child, a child we loved and cared for, savaged anything in reach with a pair of sticks. As a delicate rain fell, the aggressive shout of wood on wood. numbed the senses. There seemed no end to this wanton litany of violence and aggressive hurt. For an hour or more this child, this child we loved and cared for, had been denied the living world of the backlit screen. Was there really nothing worthy of attention here? So dull and damp and dreary were these empty fields, this persistent woodland.
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Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 7:14 AM UTC
Wood on Wood
A vehicle rumbled along a sorry excuse for a road, A convoy trailing behind it A soldier looked out his window Watching the dust swirl up in clouds beneath the Heavy vehicle's tires He said nothing to his partner and they rode in silence He, thinking of his perfect baby Whom he had not yet gotten to feel the warmth of In his arms And his partner, he was sure Had nothing but the image of his fiancée racing through his mind She was all he ever talked about They were close As close as a pair of friends could possibly be But rides were becoming increasingly more solemn Unspoken yearning for home had become almost unbearable These days the soldier missed home so much And longed so badly for his wife's warm embrace That he swore he could feel his heart aching The solemn silence was broken as something caught the soldier's eye "Stop!" The convoy came to a halt The soldier jumped from his vehicle His boots making a hard thud on the ground below He called to a group of Afghani children who had been Collecting shell casings they would later exchange for food In the middle of the convoy's path The children looked up, alarmed And scurried away The rumble of the military vehicles again resounded Through the desert And the convoy continued on its way Looking back At the men in the strange uniforms With the huge trucks, A little Afghani girl Caught a glimpse of the sunlight Bouncing off of something In the middle of the road She rushed into the street to collect it Thinking only of how pleased Her mother would be With all the money they would earn From her painstaking hunt The soldier saw the young girl Dart into the path of the convoy He shouted And leapt from the vehicle The girl looked up in terror As she saw the big trucks Getting closer And closer The soldier leapt into The path Of the oncoming sixteen-ton vehicle Toppling the girl to the ground As she sat up, out of the path of the convoy Dusting her self off and Trying to comprehend What had just taken place She looked into the road searching for her Treasure And saw it Reflecting the desert sunlight Just inches from the still form Of the soldier Who had just Given her His life
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May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
Hero
A vehicle rumbled along a sorry excuse for a road, A convoy trailing behind it A soldier looked out his window Watching the dust swirl up in clouds beneath the Heavy vehicle's tires He said nothing to his partner and they rode in silence He, thinking of his perfect baby Whom he had not yet gotten to feel the warmth of In his arms And his partner, he was sure Had nothing but the image of his fiancée racing through his mind She was all he ever talked about They were close As close as a pair of friends could possibly be But rides were becoming increasingly more solemn Unspoken yearning for home had become almost unbearable These days the soldier missed home so much And longed so badly for his wife's warm embrace That he swore he could feel his heart aching The solemn silence was broken as something caught the soldier's eye "Stop!" The convoy came to a halt The soldier jumped from his vehicle His boots making a hard thud on the ground below He called to a group of Afghani children who had been Collecting shell casings they would later exchange for food In the middle of the convoy's path The children looked up, alarmed And scurried away The rumble of the military vehicles again resounded Through the desert And the convoy continued on its way Looking back At the men in the strange uniforms With the huge trucks, A little Afghani girl Caught a glimpse of the sunlight Bouncing off of something In the middle of the road She rushed into the street to collect it Thinking only of how pleased Her mother would be With all the money they would earn From her painstaking hunt The soldier saw the young girl Dart into the path of the convoy He shouted And leapt from the vehicle The girl looked up in terror As she saw the big trucks Getting closer And closer The soldier leapt into The path Of the oncoming sixteen-ton vehicle Toppling the girl to the ground As she sat up, out of the path of the convoy Dusting her self off and Trying to comprehend What had just taken place She looked into the road searching for her Treasure And saw it Reflecting the desert sunlight Just inches from the still form Of the soldier Who had just Given her His life
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69
Youth who pelts stones at the convoy, go get some drunk. Dawdle up to a tavern. Cozy up to the ladies. Have some fun. You feel great with the gun. You want to die a martyr. Yours is a dead cause. Revolutions are past. Revolutions don't work. The baron you want out is the hell back soon. He's got the capital. The dead die unsung. Sloganeers rise on ladders of the dead. Youth who pelts stones at the convoy, go get some drunk. Fancy cars. Drive around the world. Throw away the watch. Wear your phone. 4 am queues are so in. Dior, the who? Thank god: Chrome can stand in when Mozilla's bonkers. Drown in likes and wallow in tweets. Stay drugged. Stay unconcerned. Pack up your rage and light a bonfire. May be the smoke will plug the holes in our skies. It's all over. An unmarked grave is all you get. Gun or some fun. Whose cause do you want to benefit?
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 11:54 AM UTC
Whose cause?
Caravans carefully cross empty mesquite desert between howls from creatures too small to produce them. There is a slight bump and the convoy tips. Tips, tips, tips, like snapping fingers, tipping over cauldrons filled with molten magma. They laugh a maniacal laughter as they slip through millenniums of sand, counter intuitively freezing. Long gone Pharaohs, oil drums and abandoned spare tires. Once was lost, but now I've found.
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Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
Pouring
"Oh yeah? Did you **** anybody?" Is what people ask when they see smeared across my past like a bloodstains on a white sheet US Marine Iraq twice And they cant understand the answer because they cant understand the question “I really think you got that guy man! We should radio back and get you a confirmed **** “Im pretty sure I shot that guy in the back.” "Holy **** Miller and Johnson are dead." And I never knew what to say to my friends Because I was busy doing mental math Emotional equations In their eyes How many more times they could be blown up Before they were unreliable Divide the fear with rage Because you had a job to do Someone had to get in the truck And push the fragile blindfolded bodies back With his boot so he could sit down below the armor away from the snipers And one of them was shaking it was cold And his cowering skinny teenage body shook It was like mine had been not long ago For the whole convoy three hours And I carry these memories in the same tissues as the ones that carry my sleeping infant son nuzzled against my chest under a blanket warm safe Some of us let them spill out of our veins Onto bathroom floors In ditches and alleys car wrecks shaking Any good devildog prefers the screams of the dying to the screams of the living. And the math keeps coming out negative When I equate the cost of our cell phones candy wrappers vibrators golf courses with https://www.amnestyusa.org/pdfs/sscistudy1.pdf And I subtract the dark areas of my mind From what can be filled with love And am still at war.
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Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 10:42 AM UTC
Trigger Warning
"Oh yeah? Did you **** anybody?" Is what people ask when they see smeared across my past like a bloodstains on a white sheet US Marine Iraq twice And they cant understand the answer because they cant understand the question “I really think you got that guy man! We should radio back and get you a confirmed **** “Im pretty sure I shot that guy in the back.” "Holy **** Miller and Johnson are dead." And I never knew what to say to my friends Because I was busy doing mental math Emotional equations In their eyes How many more times they could be blown up Before they were unreliable Divide the fear with rage Because you had a job to do Someone had to get in the truck And push the fragile blindfolded bodies back With his boot so he could sit down below the armor away from the snipers And one of them was shaking it was cold And his cowering skinny teenage body shook It was like mine had been not long ago For the whole convoy three hours And I carry these memories in the same tissues as the ones that carry my sleeping infant son nuzzled against my chest under a blanket warm safe Some of us let them spill out of our veins Onto bathroom floors In ditches and alleys car wrecks shaking Any good devildog prefers the screams of the dying to the screams of the living. And the math keeps coming out negative When I equate the cost of our cell phones candy wrappers vibrators golf courses with https://www.amnestyusa.org/pdfs/sscistudy1.pdf And I subtract the dark areas of my mind From what can be filled with love And am still at war.
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55
The time to wail has always been here Every day we suffer the consequences owned by the heirs Not for once have they worn our shoes They have refused to please our clues Yet they devise new means of sitting on the throne Without giving in to our daily moan. Hypocrites Meetings upon meetings Agbada upon dansiki Designer upon latest trends Convoy upon macho guards Yet they proclaim it’s all vanity. Hypocrites! In the end of the fashion rally at the house, Worthless Nothing of importance is established But the cake is diminished And then they blame it on poor rats. Hypocrites! Blame them and no one else! Because it’s their selfish interest they fight for and not us. From the doom by boko haram To the slaughter by herdsmen. Hypocrites! Don’t we see it! The people get to die But they live to see their greatest grandchildren While their billion dollar ready made coffins rot in the backyard. Hypocrites! God is the ultimate judge Only God can make the evil one right in his sight.
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May 1, 2019
May 1, 2019 at 4:08 PM UTC
NIGERIA’S BIGGEST CULT
Room 14 with the starfruit tree and pink blossoms out front and a Sala perfect for dances Stargazing and rain dances In the shadows of mother in the hearts of others i found the beat , the movements of time and space co - create I am part of the convoy to welcome in the rains of spiritual nourishment , for myself included What better place than black sanded temples of resistance and Art Cafe's with deep sea explorers as their musical accompaniment Searching for secret beaches only to find temple forests , vast cliffs of vast air and vast sea playing with the light that rains down in sheets to the ocean floor , refracting into golden hues of deep blue , white froth and aqua Finally a beach , packed to the brim
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Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
3 weeks in Paradise
I have bad dreams. They come, unbidden, into my room at night. They pass through the maze of my alcoholic daze; They take me back, Back to a dusty desert road; Our convoy is headed towards Mosul. But we never make it there: The Humvee is upended by an eardrum shattering blast. I am falling. I see you are screaming but there is no sound.. Blackness. I died three times on the medivac copter But the Corpsman kept bringing me back. I have bad dreams In them I see the faces of the dead, They are the faces of my friends; My friends, for whom I mourn Until this heart becomes a stone.
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Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 9:43 AM UTC
HEART LIKE A STONE