Rust on the medal

-
There's no one as free
as a son in the grave
with four walls around him
and no eyes left to stare.
Deep beneath the ground
or deep beneath the waves
our proud son lies
in his six foot grave.
For the greed of the rich
or the honor of the brave.
He fell to his resting place
nonetheless, in horrid fray.
His medals weigh him down
from wiping his mother's tear.
The earth he fought for, holds
him in loving embrace.
There's no duty here,
no call to rise and die again.
So sleep, my sonny boy,
forever, in your grave.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

ink

-
Ink upon the darkness makes no marks at all. Scrabbling about in the shadows nails, bleeding, fall. Scratching at the doors to my own damnation, I call. Names of old, names forgotten, slithering, from my tongue, they fall. Fat, obese, they move upon the trails I've left behind. I beg them to stop, do not witness my thoughts, my crimes. But they continue, no heed paid at all. Those that came  from the shadows eat me, my past.  They eat it all. Slick with anxiety, I continue, appalled. Eaten, my fingers to the bone, I watch,  enraptured, enthralled. This blood that erupts  from my throat, leaves no marks,  not even silence, upon these walls.
Read more

Upon the name of love

-
In the name of Narcissus, who withered away face to face with an unattainable reflection of his own perfection. In the name of Hector and Achilles, and the thousands of warriors who died for what you had wrought between a prince and a princess. In the name of the thousands since who have flown off the roofs of tall buildings and consumed the foulest of poisons just to escape your bony grasp. In their names do I curse you today, love. May you forever be just a word. Meaningless. Always to be confused with lust and desire. Always to be spoken but never sincerely. May your adherents see your duplicity And may they bemoan their affliction. May you be the idle plaything of those with no hearts and no remorse. But all this bitterness of history that I bestow upon you and your name Is undone. Each time I look at a mother smile at her child When a father looks proudly at his offspring. And I know that my curse is ineffectual in the face of true love, whose nature knows no curse....
Read more
-
The wrongs that men do often live far beyond their mortal time. For wrong is an intent, and no power that we know or understand, beyond time, can kill intent. Intent, like many other thoughts, resonates in the minds of like minded people, and seeks those who would think evil, if only their minds and behavioral patterns be changed to suit what needs to be done. Wrong here, for definition, would mean something that goes against the well being of your fellow man, unless the action prevented a further aggression against someone else. While sounding convoluted, its quite simple. Anything that endangers life, in all it's myriad forms, is wrong. And this wrong is ancient as it is evil. The thoughts that formed in Cain's head escaped into the vast ether and to this day, they can be heard in the heads of those who would hurt their brother, whether of flesh or mind. Such is intent. Even that intent which one does not act upon, is dangerous. For it desensitizes us, over a period of time,...
Read more