The Condemned Soldier

by Danny

A martyr to some,
a God to others.
My will is that of insatiable pain,
my soul condemned to burn in Hellfire eternal.

Masochism, sadism...
it’s all the same to me.
The joy of inflicting pain, receiving pain,
you know not how much pleasure it brings,
how much rapture it gives.

You condemn me for my actions,
wish me to hell,
want me to die.

Worship me, despise me.
Love me, hate me.
It makes no difference to me
one way or the other. Because I am no more

Spring Time War

Harm has come,
Its time to hide,
There is fear,
In the little ones eyes.

For even they can tell,
This isn’t a good place,
And there’s no denying,
The fear on mothers face.

This is what spring has brought,
A big war,
The war air planes,
Oh watch them soar.

The gun shots,
Loud as they are,
Blasting through walls,
And blasting through doors.

The sun comes up,
The days grow long,
To think this is spring,
With out any song.

But this is spring,
Time for men to fight,
Time to kill,
What a terrible sight.

And hiding in the shadows,
Are the little souls,
The children who’ve survived,
Nothing left-not even there dolls.

This isn’t what we call spring,
This is what we call war,
This is what we call poverty,
This is what people call a bore.

Those people don’t know what war can do,
Never felt any pain,
These people have only,
Lived for spring time rain.

Going to War

The car engine revs.
Exhaust fills the air.
The window rolled down.
It just wasn’t fair.

The poor boy watched,
He attempted to wave,
As his father pulled off,
He struggled to stay brave.

The car out of sight,
He turns to his mother.
He looks at his sister,
And stares at his brother.

His eyes filled with tears,
His body stood still.
That poor frail boy,
Miscounted the years.

The time was too late.
He would now never find -
Why his father would leave - -
For a painful, second time.

The call of duty,
Had only questioned.
His father not wanting more,
Once again had to choose,
To go, and fight in the war.

It had been a long while,
His father missed home,
And his views toward the field,
Had changed once alone.

Confidence he had,
You could only admire.
His duty was filled.
The day growing tired.

As he headed for the tent,
He pulled out a letter.
One he would read,
To make it all better.

The stars keeping watch,
The moon protecting with care.
The soldier lies down,
With only a uniform to wear.

Well as the family aged,
His son grew strong.
And soon was ready,
To go where he belonged.

It wasn’t long before he left,
Such as his father did one day.
But without the slightest doubt,
He knew he could be brave.

The car engine revs.
Exhaust fills the air.
The window rolled down.
It just isn’t fair.

He looked at his mother,
And then at his wife.
He reached up to wave,
To the love of his life.

Yet he knew he would return.
He wouldn’t let her down.
She looked so sweet,
In her yellow evening gown.

He tapped the driver’s shoulder,
As the car left for the camp.
I love you Dad he whispered - -
I was always your little champ!

Iraqi Children of War Poem

Jog, big lady, jog:
Jog that fat away.
Then get in that big
SUV and drive
Each and every day!

Now, greed lady, pray:
Go to church and pray.
Then forget your
Notion of Him is
Death by machine gun spray.