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War
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Darker side of the room The raven crows at the sight of bones, senses tingle, sharpened nose.
Pieces scatter of the men who lie dead, blown to the heavens who have made thier bed.
The cries of despair are heard for miles, as the sound of bullets reel in the demise.
The blood red rivers crash into our memories, painting a picture of the worst of humanity.
The men stand tall in spite of their concious, adhering to plans to kill so constant.
Waves of planes fly over their heads, like sirens to warn the soon to be dead.
Everywhere they go their hearts grow frail, ghostly shadows of men so pale.
In the night when they rest they sleep half awake, to measure the stars and to treasure their breath.
What was once so green has been burnt to a black, from the hands of the men, told to attack.
The colours of war are painted by a gun, spreading over the land like the light of the sun.
In the dying days of a war gone by, there are moments to cherish with a tear from an eye.
Men will be wrong and so shall be punished, but war will win for the devil haveth won it.
Using A Man's Life
For greed and land and power - these are the useages of men and women too now that the service has females in combat positions. Officers even. They die for country because they have been conditioned hard alltheir lives to protect their people. The aftermat is a thing for flags in cemeteries. My brother was a vet and is in the soldier section of Lake Sice Cemetery. His wife and kids gather there on his birthday and shar the pix. He came home alive and not too scarred that we saw. He raised his family, loved his wife, drank a lot, and was happy. Useful. - slc.
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Thanks for your input