Another Morning After

Another Morning After

                            by Odin Roark


Hate and love

Locked in mortal combat.


Crossing of swords continues

Amidst a tempest rising,

Where minds and hearts clash,

Ignoring their sentient bond.


Heavy storms of distorted agendas

Churn and roil,

Washington’s power-clash determined to erode

Any resistance.


Children of all ages look on,

Their eyes willed shut,

Their ears closed to the madness,

Their tenuous votes seeking repose.


Adults continue imitating their offspring,

Continue wanting,


Acting as if right and wrong are unknown,

As if doing what they ought is somehow foreign.



Far away

Further realms of conflict watch

Needing neither laughter nor contempt

To vibrate their appetites…

Only nodding at our own brand of tribal failure.


Ironically close,

Oh so very close,

The conscience of our simpler times

Peers through the shadows

Wondering why.


Evolution’s antennae pick up once again

Man’s delusional habit,

That yesterday’s experience can be forgotten so easily

As today’s greed and power overwhelm.


So much known.


So little learned.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Once again, there will be another skirmish, another battle or two won, but Man’s war—our species weakness—will surge on in perpetuity.  Oh, how easy some find it to play the duplicitous card and forget the challenge to do the right thing with each other and give honesty some cred. 

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The Schizophrenia of War.

The disgustingly beautiful soldiering
The abhorrently peaceful peace
The exhilarating intoxicating Fire fight
The stomach churning smell of the deceased
The loneliness of being back home
The need to be back with your mates
The buzz of being paid to kill
The grin on a dead soldiers face
The guilt of being a survivor 
The odd need to do it all again
The faces of men you would die for
The comrades who would never give in
The old man I've become please forgive me
The ones that died still in their teens
The soldiers now smiling in Valhalla 
The ones I will see tonight in my dreams

© Tony McNally



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Another tin of lager


Three letters

As a young soldiers

Modern day Gladiators

We coveted

These three letters

Watching Vietnam War films

Clutching a tin of lager

We blurred the cinematic bloodshed

WAR……Its here

Hip Hip Hooray

Willingly we went  

More green grist to the mill

Crack open another tinny

We are fucking Supermen




 © Tony McNally

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It was a matter of millimetres

When I hit the ground 

I got a mouthful of sheep shit

As I heard that `crack` sound

It had your name on it

It should have been mine

But I will never forget you

My Geordie mate from the Tyne

You were only eighteen 

Forever will you remain

Every year I will come and visit

Have a drink just the same

Il will meet you soon in Valhalla

You will see this old man

Take the piss have a laugh

Like when you beet me up Pen y fan

Here have the last of my brandy

As it soaks in your grave

Il wipe away a tear

Green light on…….bye Dave.


© Tony McNally

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The  differnce between living and dying on the battelfield,a matter of centimeters.

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I no longer realize the wrong
I no longer care for right
the only thing that seems good
is to stop these fights
but who we are to raise our voices
the things will merely change
they sit behind the tables
always seeking for another revenge
killing the domestic pigeons
we even made the God shake
fighting in the name of religions,
holy books and for our own sake
still fighting in the name of God
fighting in the name of peace
they invent cancer and look for cure
what do you know, what a kid sees
they teach us the guns
teach us to shoot the roses
so we could blind the sun
by the lights of explosives
they always take us for granted
puppets in the hands of wolves
the world war never ended
there are hundreds of Adolfs
everyone claims to be right
but who cares who is the liar?
see the victims of your egoistic fights
and their children died in crossfire
it's not hard to drop the weapon
and take glimpse beyond your hate
you were all along on the heaven
let's stop now, before it is too late
before we lost ourselves in wars
before we are gone too far away
far away from what we are
before we face our judgement day
so if you have courage to fire
shoot for the right aim
shoot for their massive empires
to end their dirty games
because to make a new amend
our voices must be raised
and it will never be the same again
the world will be a better place

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Someones son is dying
right this immediate second of now..
and his General wraps his meaty iron fist
around the all-mighty oil-soaked dollar.
  An apex jungle-predator won't kill
for pleasure or amusement; 
  Even when hopelessly entangled
in the shimmering, dew-wet death
of a spiders web; 
  The spider, knowing it has no use 
for what has surrendered to its entrapment,
releases its prey not out of mercy, or sorrow..
but out of the calm calculus of reason.
  What then of this war? 
To quench the beasts' blood lust
of un-satisfiable desire?
  A revolution is growing silently 
in numbers, behind the backs
suckling from the tit of self destruction
and greed.
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Let me lie

Let me freeze again

Till death do we part

And we are on a fast road there

Let me die

Let me live

For death is only the beginning


And I will rise again

Desecrated Eyes

Your arms are burned,

You've touched the sacred life.

You sell and buy, priceless things,

You think you're trader, but you're thief.

You want everyone to believe,

That your money is that good,

That worthy and almighty.

Children see wars and corruption,

Just because of your greediness.

You desecrate untouchable,

You spoil the purest.

You lie and you'll die,

For each sin you've done,

For each life you've taken.

Your mask is growing too heavy

And the day you will fall,

Nobody will throw you a lifeline.

You will choke in your own mud,

Which you thought was a treasure.

You were deceived by yourself,

By your blindness and depravity.

At your funeral there would be tears,

Tears of a happiness, tears of relief...

That day world will be free,

That's why I will fight till I can,


Till I feel freedom running through my vein.

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Reincarnation: Dulce Et Decorum Est

Reincarnation of Dulce Et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen


Bombs spread fire burning bright,

Dulce Et Decorum Est.

Brave soldiers harsh flame does smite,

Dulce Et Decorum Est-

It is sweet and right.


They lose more than just their life,

Dulce Et Decorum Est.

Innocence molested by blood and strife,

Dulce Et Decorum Est-

It is sweet and right.


Pawns fighting in the Middle East,

Dulce Et Decorum Est.

Chess pieces for the political beast,

Dulce Et Decorum Est-

It is sweet and right.


Tell the people, tell them lies,

Dulce Et Decorum Est.

Pray the they never grow wise.

Dulce Et Decorum Est-

Pro patria mori.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I do not do reincarnations often, this is actually my first one.

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