Tag Archives: soldier

Mister Doctor Man, How Much For An Autopsy?

I’m Mr. Doctor Man who questions his hands
Lost his mind, but clinically fine
But he found a way to cope, needle in his throat
Falling down, but the world is spinning round
And round, he knows…

~*~

Your arcane consonance is another memory in my eyes

Candelabras, needles, and shale skin is what’s left of me

Sabotaging the magnitude, time is but another simple lie

I’ll be the sick boy soldier patching up your indigo eternity

.

But don’t count me out like the silver glitter in your dress

I may be a fair firmament forecast, but you’re a bad omen

Perhaps your vignettes are perverse, and I’m lost in senses

Remnants of irrational contusions, in a masquerade pretend

.

My artful catastrophe is another remembrance in colder eyes

Chandeliers, syringes, and shallow flesh was what’s left of you

Serrated mutinous, time is but another complicated way to die

You’ll be the sad girl doctor breaking down my lavender infinity.

~*~

Honestly, it’s running through my veins
You see? I don’t need their surgeries
I just wanna breathe; they’re coming after me…

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The Soldier In The Desert

Well, after all the blood that you still owe
Another dollar’s just another blow
So fix your eyes and get up
Better get up while you can…

~*~

so tell me, what have i done

to deserve these icy shivers

you dripped down my spine

and halted my temperature?

.

i only wished to take respites

and thaw this spastic relation

i never thought you’re weary

fathomed into a sunken inure

.

but grudges develop into gall

and interpretations turn awry

communications break down

and scars leave defaced marks

.

though was this my sin or yours

praying to the deities of hearsay

and believe gossip from tongues

refusing thus to light the sparks?

.

so tell me, just what have i done

to deserve your crashing bullets?

dismayed gunpowder sending me

straight down into an early grave

.

i only wished to defuse the placid hate

and cease this ineffectual, aeonian war

but perhaps both of the perpetrators are

enjoying such pain too much to be saved.

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The Toy Soldier

membranes screaming

with quaint distaste

zeppelins weighing on

the bottom of my palate

ennui is injected like

hard heroin, but down

instead of rush high

amusement of a chronic

detachment, falsettos

left to simply, slowly die

rivers of silver, i’ll sink

in pouring liquor and rain

as my thoughts keep

reverting to primal disdain

another day of feeling

nothing, and walking on

harsh gravel and cold rocks

and this life’s about as

exciting as an empty

wooden toy box.

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Praying for Artillery

Staring at the carnage
Praying that the sun would never rise
Living another day in disguise
These feelings can’t be right
Lend me your courage to stand up and fight…

~*~

Another timeline

Of anarchists

Next in line

To the pacifists

Veins taut strung

In severed struggle

By a nerve hung

On a concrete hell

The battle wages

As artillery collides

Soldier skin ages

The war overrides

As faint cries ricochet

With flying bullets

Penetrating humanity

A full metal jacket

Casualties go nuclear

And the end decrees

All that’s left are

Shrapnel and debris

Black radio mourns

And flags are burned

A somnolent horn

Bloody backs turned

Another timeline

Of both futile armies

Attempting to define

The lost meaning of peace.

~*~

Fight for honor, fight for your life
Pray to God that our side is right
Even though we won, I still may lose
Until I make it home to you…

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An Epitaph For The Celestial Marching Mercenaries Of The Final Apocalypse

The pious mercenary calling

Ivory halos bent and broken

Freedom, they were waging

With the price of lives stolen.

~faded tombstone inscription

~*~

The hooves came thundering one day, the pale blue horizon turned a foreboding scarlet

As four harbingers arrived, doing damage and causing War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death

The Ultimate Evil broke free from his fettered state, rose in power from the chains and ashes

The end was nigh, anarchy was high, until the skies opened up, and down flew the mercenaries

.

The immaculate mercenaries have come dawning upon our land today

Creating silent storms with their inexorable wings of pure liquid gold

Iridescent forms, fragile butterfly swords dipped in the blood of God

Legends from the end of a century troubadours failed to have foretold

.

Sheaths unravelling and suspended upon the silken strings of calling

Fundamental foundations on which this warring viridian planet o’er lay

For these cavalier soldiers fought and rallied against the stars falling

And saved restless cadavers from treason and potential further decay

.

Celestial hierarchy in motion, choirs of cherubim, seraphs, archangels

Sanctity of the war, exhibition like the clashing forces of moon and sun

White robed guardians arched in a delicate art of finesse, even in battle

Against the austerity of chthonic snarling demons, caliginous as they run

.

An empire of clattering bones and dripped silvery blood and carnage

Ashes choking the northeast breeze along with static crepuscular image

Stones cast whereupon heroes and kings once toasted glass in victory

The tainted lights of the sunset in a thousand days of a darkened glory

.

Holy weapons disintegrating the darkness, wield halos and hand grenades

Line after line of fiends are struck down, interlocked in a contrite parade

In the black and white of the opposed legions, thus occurred a stalemate

It seemed, for just a scintilla moment, that the better had won in this state

.

Yet when the eleventh hour struck, the stained battlefield was wrought

Half the army has gone to waste, and the other half left to fled for good

One survived, a lone figure in brutal combat, the shadows it still fought

Feathers plucked clean raining like hail, yet still, he relentlessly stood

.

Staring upon the paramount beast, standing drenched, shivering in turbid Stygian waters

Looking headlong into his glaring chaotic eyes, mocking, cackling, loathing splattered

A singular hope surged upon his severed veins, energy by grace of God’s dissemination

And with a last leap of faith and roar, he dashed past with broken wings to finish the book of revelation

.

The final frontier has been appended, and the end is a pyrrhic victory with irreparable losses

A defended vengeful side for an unknown singular cause, cost total obliteration to the masses

A valley of casualties lain like a tainted painting, from which artists dare not lay upon the canvas

With the sun burnt out, an frigid winter blanketed Gaia, and Elysium’s throne waited empty, alas!

.

Unsure of who gained the upper hand in this ordeal, a semblance of Heaven and Hell’s last swan song

In pace requiescat, a whisper carried by the last wind, bereft and morose, onto the gales forlorn and strong

And tet all that remains of this violent sordid affair is torn fragments of a yellowing parchment

Yet I tell this tale now, eulogy writ in my own quill and liquid; and I shall raise a glass, a spirit for the spirits

.

So lay a crimson rose in the graves of the bravest men, the fallen comrades, the stalwart mercenaries

Those loyal divine battalions who left paradise to purvey zealous souls against obstreperous enemies

Future hope woebegone, and may they rest in peace forevermore, for they have died, yet not completely in vain

I write this final epitaph for my beloved lost children, may their bold hearts ascend back to the kingdom of heaven once again.

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Windup Human

But if all we are is just machines
Then let’s become a miracle and break free from these chains
We must be more than just machines
So let them hear our hearts…

~*~

I’m not your snivelling, spineless, stiff lackey

Nor am I some shambling, rotten clichéd zombie

I’m not a mindless, tipsy-topsy inebriate

Nor a foolish dupe that can’t even think straight

.

But despite all this, I’m still treated like a clockwork automaton

Who can be simply controlled with levers and the push of a button

Forcing me to do all your bidding, using my body against my will

I’ve tried to say no, but these efforts and protests are to no avail

.

In your empty eyes, I’m just another one of your windup soldiers

And the only thing programmed into my brain is “Obey first, questions later”

But I know I have my own soul and conscience that dictates my emotions

Clearly though, of all those traits, you heartless people have none.

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