Tag Archives: Death

You and I

You and I

Straight, tall soldiers developed hunches,
Lost all sight of old war grudges,
Why point the finger, appoint the blame,
You and I, I and You, we are the same, we are the same.

I have the rifle but do I shoot?
Do I play God and follow suit?
What part does God play in our war?
You and I, I and you, there are more, there are more.

A hell of sounds; sounds from Hell,
The noise of bullets covering the bell,
The bell of souls shall sound for he,
You and I, I and You, the bell of sounds will come for thee.

Blood flowed and mixed with all the mud,
To great deep holes the bodies lugged,
Soldier and death: who loses the duel?
You and I, I and You, time is cruel, time is cruel.

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Let us lay you down

Let us lay you down

Soldiers you may lay down arms,
Leave behind your hidden qualms,
Let us lay you down to rest,
Remember you and we are blest,
Today there is a poppy found,
To show that to you we are bound,
Gone from us you cannot be,
For your hearts we still can see,
May you leave this empty space,
And know that none will take your place.


The Walking Dead

This poem was inspired, again, by World War Two. The story was of a doctor who helped run a Jewish orphanage. He was offered a way out of the war but he stayed with the children. Eventually German soldiers arrived and forced the doctor and the children to walk miles to the nearest concentration camp. While they walked, the doctor held the hands of one or two of the children. Here’s the result of my “inspiration”. (By the way, the sand refers to a sand timer and the smoke obviously to the burning of clothes and bodies by the Nazis and the persona is obviously one of the children holding the doctor’s hand, whispering his fears and ending up consoling the poor doctor).

The Walking Dead

We are the walking dead, aren’t we mister,

The walking dead, me and my little sister,

We’re marching to our death aren’t we sir,

Please, my little sister, can’t you help her,

Mister, you aren’t crying are you,

Come on now, it’s nothing new,

Just keep on holding my blistered hand,

It’s almost gone, all that sand,

Mister, I can be the walking dead,

‘Cause I know that He’s not just in my head,

You see the smoke of Satan’s cigar,

We are the walking dead, we are.


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