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A Poem About Human Nature


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kurtknispelww2 #1 Posted 15 June 2015 - 09:08 PM

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The should have  been called a verse about killing, but I cannot change the title which is a shame now


 

As I drove home from Remembrance Sunday Services (Nov 2015)  the first lines of a verse wormed their way in to my head, now that it is finished, it seems to have become a semi saga...

 

As we all like to kill here I thought I would see if anyone will be bored enough to read it and if they do if they will leave a comment

 

 

My enemy lies still.
sure, strong, confidently unknowing.
he smells, hears, sees then slowly raises.
with hands and feet gouging dirt he
comes, chest out and fangs exposed.
grass now red as glistening blood drips
from ox’s bone, heavy and held tight.
once more my enemy lies still unknowing.
arm, rib, skull crushed and fatally broken.

 

 

 

My enemy lies still.
warm, dry, in fire lit, cave-walled home.
mate, young, old and kin. Too slow,
too sleepy, too long unopposed, while
we move in from darkness. They stir,
hands reach for club and rock as our
flint tipped shafts of wood silently fly.
while my enemy lies still, over stone floor
slippery with blood, flint knives cut deep.

My enemy lies still
far from the hot sands of my birth.
dark of skin, hair tight to scalp, long of limb.
calling, his companions loosely band together with
shields of wood and skin, long thin spears held ready.
running shoulder to shoulder, sun dazzles off shield and plate,
as let fly, their spears likewise deflect without harm
now my enemy lies still, severed from limb and head.
their lands, soon to be emptied of all but the God King’s tribe

My enemy lies still,
though insults fly through rain drenched night
til misty dawn sees our shieldwall march. Metal boots stomp,
banners fly, horns blare, covering, almost, the war cries coming.
blue painted demons, naked, berserk, stream from dripping wood.
our javelins fly, adding a darker rain, to pierce flesh and bone
before they crash to clash against our front as swords seek life.
here my enemy lies still, trampled underfoot through this long day, into
mud and blood, repeated again and again to win this gods forsaken land

My enemy lies still
outside the wall in tent, pavilion or under blankets of silk
they sleep the sleep of the just, ready to conquer the infidel.
dead of night my squire buckles the last and hands me my sword.
with my brothers I mount, 100 strong, horse and rider metal clad.
Lance, mace, morning star, broadsword and in extremis, dagger
all blooded and deadly, Christ’s instruments of holy war
there my enemy lies still as hoofbeats sound, coming awake too late
fabric and flesh is torn, pierced, battered and crushed before the Allah call

My enemy lies still
gentleman and peasant both, though no King on that field.
we lie too, to gather strength after forced long march.
today will be different for we win or die, no inbetween,
thus new rules, or lack of, will rule the coming day.
their pennants flying bright and clean put ours to dirty shame though
my King stands with us. 2 or 6 to 1, beware this underdog’s teeth.
surprised my enemy lies still, knights in mud with hammer dispatched, Lord
and peasant equalled by 1000 arrows a minute, 70 to our 1 dying about to be dead.

My enemy lies still
smugly arrogant, stiff upper lipped, led by incompetence
5 miles behind the line, 50 years behind the time, thinking,
if that is the word, that 7 days bombardment will kill us all.
not a good day for a walk, so no generals take the air as
the whistles blow, the ladders raise and an army steps forth.
we waited, they came, and cross-firing machines spat out death.
left my enemy lies still, in mud and putrid water or hung on wire
for weeks as the next poor souls marched to take their place

My enemy lies still
on wooden pallets inside paper walls, dainty, neat, proper,
as 30,000 feet above our little boy rests in its hammock.
warned, told, unheard, unbelieved, uncaring, life, til now, continued
believing, trusting, worshiping only their little imperial emperor god.
the raising sun will be reversed today as our sun will drop
to light the way to an ending and the beginning of the END.
below my enemy lies still though little remains but ash, dust and lingering
death with vertical, micron thick, corpses echoing who they were.

My enemy lies still
thousands of miles away in warm, dry, fire lit, cave-walled home.
eye to electronic, elongated eye though seen only by one.
terminal images to show the spot and guide for terminal impact
as unmanned, unseen, unheard, unsmelled by ear or eye or technology
our justice rains down, pinpointed, with only a little collateral leakage.
freedom they say is far from free but less expensive then fundamental rule
although my enemy lies still, beside mate, young, old and kin like a hydra
replaced by two more fed from the same feast of flesh, blood and death

My enemy lies still
bloated, blood seeping, fluids seeping, flesh returning to clay.
gasping for breath, for life, for help, for the touch of another.
buttons pressed, vials opened, dust spread by wind and wave.
no wall paper thin, fire lit cave, bunker 2 miles down nor plane 1 mile high
stops, nor slows, the end all, kill all, leave no one behind answer to the never
ending question of, “if you have it why can’t I? So give it to me lest...
though my enemy lies still I see him, them, not at all as my eyes are blind, my
ears are deaf my breathe slows, stops. My enemies are still but so are theirs


Edited by kurtknispelww2, 16 June 2015 - 05:03 PM.





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