deepundergroundpoetry.com
~untitled~
cloaked in a tattered american flag dripping red stripes;
blood.
A soldier wanders aimlessly the nights blue canopy looming,
under the flag's flickering stars
alone with an "a k47" held by hands
frozen stubs, for what was once, fingers
Carrying the weight of the fifty states he has been sent to protect, he has taken
fifty bullets for them
Fifty days and nights
fifty endless miles walking……wandering…….searching
for nothing!
He knows nowhere to go
nowhere to be...
he has no place to hide
so he walks
He walks endlessly for his country
the same one that has forgotten him inside of enemy lines.
lost in a world not his own
thoughts of home are left to distort
calamity.
This. is not reality
Memories the thin untouchable wisps of fading teargas,
reaching for them but grasping nothing.
hidden beyond the smoke his memories
Contort and twist into fantasy .... fallacy.
Insomnia creeping into his brain,
he remembers training
"don't!!...go...insane"
he tries to hold on but what was once the jolly
laughter of children from home;
their voices booming in his ear.
triggered bombs in the peril of night.
their calls similar to death's echo
chilling a soldiers to his veins.
But He's here for those kids
kids and
Sympathetic eyes of kin who watched the young man go to war.
they.
dropping turbulent tears of sorrow falling like the
rain on his drowning soul,
Washing into murky rivers of the unknown
Their sad glassy eyes now hidden behind a forest overgrown
with a soldiers own demise
but hes here for those eyes
his Eyes
Searching in the dark for home
He stumbles down
further and further
into nothingness but his mind's own morbidity
He was left to protect.
Atleast...thats what he recollects
Unsure of true purpose,
does his glock repeatedly cocked mean that peace is emanent?
Whispers in his head
"the land of white and blue has fallen
they were suppose to protect you.
but there faith is discontinued
with a structure only broken
Hope. is not here anymore”
A soldier only 19
Crying in the nights of war
he will never feel
the windy city's breeze on his face
Not knowing the warmth of florida but,
the cold steel of a gun handle pressed against his skin
a soldier never to know his own nation.
His thoughts wandering to cities far away
He silently lets his mind resign
Life is his nightmare
not knowing if he's awake or asleep
why is he alive?.
he feels the need to die.
his blood soaking the banner
that should protect him as
his life slips away into white lights striped on the flag
a soldier found woven into the fabric of america,
lifeless.
the red,white and blue, of those who left him, reflect in his eyes
as the fire consumes his body
and the
flag meant to protect.....
and remember.
blood.
A soldier wanders aimlessly the nights blue canopy looming,
under the flag's flickering stars
alone with an "a k47" held by hands
frozen stubs, for what was once, fingers
Carrying the weight of the fifty states he has been sent to protect, he has taken
fifty bullets for them
Fifty days and nights
fifty endless miles walking……wandering…….searching
for nothing!
He knows nowhere to go
nowhere to be...
he has no place to hide
so he walks
He walks endlessly for his country
the same one that has forgotten him inside of enemy lines.
lost in a world not his own
thoughts of home are left to distort
calamity.
This. is not reality
Memories the thin untouchable wisps of fading teargas,
reaching for them but grasping nothing.
hidden beyond the smoke his memories
Contort and twist into fantasy .... fallacy.
Insomnia creeping into his brain,
he remembers training
"don't!!...go...insane"
he tries to hold on but what was once the jolly
laughter of children from home;
their voices booming in his ear.
triggered bombs in the peril of night.
their calls similar to death's echo
chilling a soldiers to his veins.
But He's here for those kids
kids and
Sympathetic eyes of kin who watched the young man go to war.
they.
dropping turbulent tears of sorrow falling like the
rain on his drowning soul,
Washing into murky rivers of the unknown
Their sad glassy eyes now hidden behind a forest overgrown
with a soldiers own demise
but hes here for those eyes
his Eyes
Searching in the dark for home
He stumbles down
further and further
into nothingness but his mind's own morbidity
He was left to protect.
Atleast...thats what he recollects
Unsure of true purpose,
does his glock repeatedly cocked mean that peace is emanent?
Whispers in his head
"the land of white and blue has fallen
they were suppose to protect you.
but there faith is discontinued
with a structure only broken
Hope. is not here anymore”
A soldier only 19
Crying in the nights of war
he will never feel
the windy city's breeze on his face
Not knowing the warmth of florida but,
the cold steel of a gun handle pressed against his skin
a soldier never to know his own nation.
His thoughts wandering to cities far away
He silently lets his mind resign
Life is his nightmare
not knowing if he's awake or asleep
why is he alive?.
he feels the need to die.
his blood soaking the banner
that should protect him as
his life slips away into white lights striped on the flag
a soldier found woven into the fabric of america,
lifeless.
the red,white and blue, of those who left him, reflect in his eyes
as the fire consumes his body
and the
flag meant to protect.....
and remember.
Published 17th Feb 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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21st Feb 2014 3:53am
does his glock repeatedly cocked mean that peace is emanent?
a soldier found woven into the fabric of america,
lifeless.
Equal parts Shel Silverstein and Joe Rogan. Juuust in case you're not already familiar with either of them, you should read "Where the Sidewalk Ends" by Silverstein cover to cover. Kids poems, but like yours, they speak from the place you can't look away from.
People don't like inconvenient truths because the inconvenient part is how it smells and feels.
a soldier found woven into the fabric of america,
lifeless.
I mean that shit is real. Most of my veteran friends are shocked into mild PTSD when they feel the stirrings from hearing patriotic propaganda music. On some level they know it was a ruse, a sham, bullshit. You can't be a soldier and not know that EVERY WAR we've ever had since the invasion of Mexico and the bullshit Treaty of Guadalupe was begun with a false flag. You can't be a soldier and not feel two ways.
Your work brings out that inconvenient truth in the same way one of my children stares hard at some fundamental concept they can't grasp. It's hypnotic.
That's not just me either, print this up, post it everywhere you go and watch how many people can only stand to read it once. It reaches too deep for them.
a soldier found woven into the fabric of america,
lifeless.
Equal parts Shel Silverstein and Joe Rogan. Juuust in case you're not already familiar with either of them, you should read "Where the Sidewalk Ends" by Silverstein cover to cover. Kids poems, but like yours, they speak from the place you can't look away from.
People don't like inconvenient truths because the inconvenient part is how it smells and feels.
a soldier found woven into the fabric of america,
lifeless.
I mean that shit is real. Most of my veteran friends are shocked into mild PTSD when they feel the stirrings from hearing patriotic propaganda music. On some level they know it was a ruse, a sham, bullshit. You can't be a soldier and not know that EVERY WAR we've ever had since the invasion of Mexico and the bullshit Treaty of Guadalupe was begun with a false flag. You can't be a soldier and not feel two ways.
Your work brings out that inconvenient truth in the same way one of my children stares hard at some fundamental concept they can't grasp. It's hypnotic.
That's not just me either, print this up, post it everywhere you go and watch how many people can only stand to read it once. It reaches too deep for them.
21st Feb 2014 3:53am
Oh and you should youtube "Joe Rogan - The American Ideal", and "The American War Machine" It gives your piece awesome perspective.