literature

The War

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SilverSkies07's avatar
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Literature Text

Here I sit my name forgotten
All alone like wild cotton,
by my lonesome in this vacant house
sitting patient Felis chaus.
time is ticking death awaiting,
life is over, my metal plating.

In this field i see none.
The war, the war, it has begun,
my ranks they fire the minute gun
but over seas, the mothers son.
He flies he aims the bofors gun.

Fighting harder, faster, stronger,
the men stay standing, longer, longer.
Knights of red and blue and white,
fighting for the writ of right,
taking heed the yellow light.
They stand they hope they pray at night,
distracted not by burial site.

One among many this concrete block
amongst this green-chromatic silent stock.
Time stands still now upon the hour,
fighting still, our ranks of power.

And who so chosen to deliver
such men to places of which they shiver?
Of what land is baren and dead
bombed and beaten and now blood red?

The one is he behind the fortrice walls.
He represents the angels falls.
He gives long speaches about this war,
filled with fiction and once more,
death is not residing at his door.

Here they lay, all ten-thousand,
quiet, peaceful, no more pain.
For who has anything left to gain?

The one in the house of color white,
He sits,
he stairs,
behind line of sight.
Concerning the war of Iraq and my view on it.
© 2006 - 2024 SilverSkies07
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