"regimental" poems
Gorgons in the grasses by my window
Phantoms in the corridors of mind,
Elves and Angels flit amongst the fairies
But Godhead is the hardest thing to find.
Experiments with rationale confound me
Argument, well meaning, leaves me cold,
I've thrashed it out with he who has seen the Holy See
But futility has left me feeling old.
Millions feel the joy of their religion
Base their lives on regimental right,
Alone I meet the day and feel no need to pray,
And stride with independence to the night.
I read your words of beauty for your Maker
I felt the passion living on the page,
I cried for your belief and in so doing, felt relief
For the singer not the song, for me, engaged.
So there, my beauty, lies our living quandary
For you and I the chemistry's the same.
For you with God in hand inhabit my agnostic land
And simultaneously, we exult in falling rain.
Marshalg
To Christine and Anselm, with happiness in having found new friends.
The Pukehana Paradise
Auckland
12 March 2013
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 3:46 AM UTC
Steel and grain let escape,
Settling into the depths of the woven wool,
The citrus dust of the emerging art.
"Roll the blade like an ocean wave."
The regimental wooden curls advance on my vision
As my teacher's eyes take in the familiar sight.
As they fall, my mind wanders
Wonders of the flakes - was there no music in them?
Perfunctory: "You're doing well."
Maybe I would die like that too?
The grace, the courage?
Like an arching rebel of the grain.
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 7:52 PM UTC
(with apologies to Elizabeth Barret Browning)
Arrogant
Book Soldier
Conceited
Con Artist
Covetous
Cunning
Deceitful
Disingenuous
Egoist
Egregious
Envious
Entitled
Evil
Haughty
Hypocritical
Ignominious
Immoral
Jealous
Jumped Up
Machiavellian
Martinet
Mendacious
Nit Picky
Obsessed
Peck Sniff
Perfidious
Persnickety
Pompous
Popinjay
Predatory
****
Rapacious
Regimental
Sanctimonious
Self Important
Shylock
Smarmy
Sophist
Supercilious
Unctuous
Unethical
Vile
Vicious
Zealot
ljm
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 1:52 PM UTC
Amillion steel pin ****** divine
each day closer to death we climb
crystal shards bejewel the sky
While
The Cities beneath me
Kicking and crying
But all I hear is goodbye
-
Unreason not able
Why are these ****** Not stabled
Just wanderin
Thru this fable
stubbed my toe
on your god of stone
That litters this river
We all flow
So
Let’s dance in this
Technicolor bliss
And never ending showers
of little lead gifts
human disinfectant
for where the slime live
Where the slime live
-
Broken bones remind the soul
of the all violence that’s been sold
All the while racing toward
that ever after
We once called home
No more
boiling jealousy
envious bedroom eyes
hideous tongues beguile
Thick salavatory lies
Lifeless imbeciles
Revolving doors
carnivorous smiles
covetous masturbators
**** Gazing while
Justice is **********
Coming a little premature
Serving our just deserves
oh my libertine
How I loathe to
See you In chains
If their speed is good enough for 6 yr olds
Then it’s safe enough for me
HEY!!!!!
I want my! I want my! I want my
methamphetamine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-
I got too many middle fingers
Shoot straight from the cuff
Humans might lose the race
Oh well, close enough
Outlawed truth and reason
But here, I just took a dump
Never waste a good crisis
My Re-elected incumbents
Gotta Fill Them Prisons
Protest prices ‘cause
Dollars fill the fists
Along the streets uprisen
HEY!!!
Whats the policy on returns?
I’m just not happy with this
Oblivion
-
broadcast opinions
Regimental TV
Coerced confession
global stupidity
Yes, I’d like to report a hijacking
0f another species
Endangered or
Polluted at best
Just Don’t forget to breath
Oh yeah, you’re dead
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 6:45 AM UTC
I sit here in contemplation
before me arises images and dreams
particles of sublime characteristics
regimental excursions of thought and form
In this solitude I invade
like an Army on foot into unknown grounds
conquering and invading depths of cerebral sparks
Till there within that most sacred sanctuary
I draw from myself the strength and the will
opening up a new chapter of mental illustration
upon diagrams planted so many years ago
Till slowly i begin to comprehend
The Mystery of all I am
and I look with fresh sight and gain
at all that here around me flies
sudden explanations fill and engulf
to the majestic unity I come to Know
I see the Heaven's open up their treasures
little glimmering lights of wisdom combine
to establish here before me a true holistic sight
I see the mountains flowing
like a sea of many grounds
knowing the generations collide and combine
in this sea of heart and home
There before me I see my brother
I know him well, as he I
and for once in total union
we walk a silent mile.
I learn more than what words can utter
for in truth any description becomes but vain
and I see within this my Sanctuary
That I was never here alone.
Where does one come to these grounds
ever sacred, ever calling
Striving forever those confines of the human heart
and in dreams bright,we cry for more.
Tis a place where God awakens
where resides that seed of truth and hope
an eternal solitude of its Holy expressions
Our God again walks beside us, with us
Knowing us and we learn to know him
Un Sancti Spiritus
The sacred grounds
of you and me.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 22, 2011
Mar 22, 2011 at 1:02 PM UTC
Love blooms from fertile fields like springtime sprawlers
but the regimental maintenance of one’s lawn
halts the grass at a certain height
lessening mushrooms and mosquitoes
lessening honeysuckle and dandelions
the aroma of lavender and roses
faintly cries from beneath grass clippings.
Nov 16, 2022
Nov 16, 2022 at 6:24 PM UTC
Words spoken plainly
Now ignored.
After thirty years of habit
He stirs at 5.15 every AM…
Regimental.
After thirty years of habit
She does not stir
But sleeps through.
Words spoken, no longer plainly
But forced with effort,
Patience used.
Him, blind to her frustrations.
A broken necklace,
A torn handkerchief .
A housewife’s muzzled huzza
To husband ignored -
Her way of pretending
Everything is ok,
The only effort from either
To just get on with it,
To get by,
To wait it out.
But still…
Life goes on.
Copyright Marc Hawkins 2007
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 9:34 AM UTC
Regimental Square, Sydney
ANZAC Day, 2017
I thought "I'll march this Anzac Day,"
To Sydney thus I'll make my way.
But then, to set my medals straight,
I pause a moment at my gate
To ponder 'neath the starry sky
On where I'm going to and why.
To there, the Square on George Street.
The place where all we blokes do meet.
To greet once more to have a say,
Gathered there on Anzac Day,
To think for moments in that Square
About the men no longer there.
No longer there but always there
These ghostly memories on the Square.
Their presence felt as we give thanks,
Shuffling, murmuring in their ranks,
And as the bugle calls last post
We proudly stiffen with that host.
Standing tall with all those men
Who link our presence now with then;
Their bayonets, bullets, marching feet
Providing terms on which we meet:
Our bridge, our nexus, common ground
For sharing with them that sweet sound
Which gently fades away.
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 2:42 AM UTC
near the water, 'n verdant rushes,
on a summer evening late,
hiding 'neath the dog-rose bushes
where pond-skaters feed and mate,
on the slithery grassy slope
above the bank of sand
there I saw Joy and Hope
sitting hand in hand
ere the golden crimson sun
had disappeared 'neath the waters
ere the twilight had begun
ere daylight sought its quarters
I heard the sound of echo'd laughter
as ripples in the water
as a melody from hereafter
sound of Joy and Hope that sought her
gone were the works of man,
steel and concrete temple,
gone were the ordered plans
of buildings regimental,
gone were the pinks and greys
of black 'n urban roadways,
all i saw was light of day
aflame with gold, salmon sun-ray
Oct 10, 2021
Oct 10, 2021 at 10:04 AM UTC
Backing into battle
With our buttocks gleaming white
We are rogered for Her Majesty
And Britannia’s ruling might.
The enemy may raise his flag
Upon our flaccid pole
For the Queen’s most heartfelt wishes
Are that we should be the swishes
Fed will-nilly to the fishes
In our British glory hole.
Olé.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 7:20 PM UTC
The smell of burnt toast
The smoke alarm sounding
The Sweet aromatic hint of coffee
The familiar sound of breakfast TV
The erratic coughing of the old Lady
The constant barking of next doors hounds.
The Siblings shouting at each other while dressing .
The babies shallow cry all from an open window.
Then the regimental voice we all know and come to love.
" Shurrup you're all giving me a headache" and the split second silence followed by " Oye you up yet C'mon you'll be late AGAIN !!"
The passionate loving voice of a stressed Mother sorting her troops.
Alas the neglected sound of silence fills the air...........until tomorrow.
©Grant Dickson 04/03/2016
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 5:07 AM UTC
The men of Massachusetts were falling back in disarray
They had held their line for hours on this hot and humid day.
Nathan Allen bore the tricolor when they were ordered to withdraw
But he turned and charged the rebel line because of what he saw.
The regimental banner had fallen to the clay
The rebels too had eyed the prize and they were on their way.
The bullets sang their song of death as from his friend’s dead hands
He bore the colors back to where his unit made their stand.
The honor of the regiment was wrapped up in their banner
To Nathaniel Allan, more than his life, that mattered.
He was cited for his courage; all had seen what he had done.
Upon his grave they placed a star, the honor that he won.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 9:58 PM UTC
The hours, of the day, proceed so fast when you stay up the night before. As the light comes, it brings a calm insightfulness much different then when you first awaken from sleep. A pensive recognition that comes as if the previous day were a lifetime, and soon it is noon again. Time was forgotten untill I looked upon that wretched regimental clock, and while it keeps things in order I wish to be free from it. What if all our minds weren't so convinced of time as we know it? Like a trap it keeps me stuck. All around the house I see those numbers and they hold me down. How much more lovely would existance be without contrived and man made things? I want to be fresh like when God first made Adam. Maybe even before that when there was no day or night.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
From the seafront to the portal,
I am surrounded by mountains.
From the portal to the housings,
I am surrounded by mountains.
From the housing to the Parade square,
I am surrounded by mountains.
From the Parade square to the mesh hall,
I am surrounded by mountains.
From the mesh hall to the laundry room,
I am surrounded by mountains.
From the laundry room to the barracks,
I am surrounded by mountains.
From the Barracks to the medic room,
I am surrounded by mountains.
From the medic room to the regimental police boot,
I am surrounded by mountains.
From the regimental police boot where all the RPs salute,
I am surrounded by mountains.
The entire military base and personnel's within it,
We are surrounded by mountains.
May 15, 2022
May 15, 2022 at 12:07 PM UTC