Posts Tagged ‘War’

These steel wings under my direction,
This flying fortress,
Styled in camouflage sheen,
They once meant freedom to me,
Symbols of our fight against fascism,

But after that night,
That mission,

When I saw those fiery roses emerge,
Streets erupting in hellfire,
Becoming flowerbeds of sulphur and rubble,
I could almost hear screams over the turbines,
Hundreds of little ants amidst the blaze,

I felt that we became world-enders that night,
Warmongers rather than liberators,

We won that war,
But when those souls look up,
They will see us in the clouds,
And feel fear,
Not freedom.

Under this phosphorus curtain,
In these blood-strewn streets,
I do not believe this war will end,
Which war you ask?
The forever war,
Humanity versus humanity,
Presided over by those arms dealer divines,
Lauded by sycophants of the political class,
Soldiers are mere cents,
Towns are legal tender,

Nations become naught more than stockpiles,
Fuel for the napalm fires,
Iron and uranium and young blood,
Progeny sent into a grinder en masse,
Front lines along the bottom line,
Eradication becomes a profit all its own,
Both decades and darlings have already rotted,
There can be no ceasefire,
When populations are just another currency,
To these hollow men.


Plated and iron-willed,
Zweihander in grip,
We are the first,
The forlorn hope,
The first of the army,
The first to charge,
The first to brave that barbed storm,
To climb those ladders,
To brave those battlements,
The first to kill,
The first to be slain,
We are the first,
The forlorn hope,
The first to die screaming,
The first to burn alive,
The first to be impaled,
The first to perish under arrows,
To be pierced,
To be slaughtered,
The first to be buried,
The first to be forgotten.

I crawl,
I crawl because death looms,
Tracer fireworks and smoothbore orchestra above,
The air is a Russian roulette of lead,
To stand vertical is to welcome the reapers round,
Razor wire as spectators,
Bullet casings as applause,

Knees and elbows,
Along this dank trench,
Each inch ahead is a marathon,
The mud cossets me as a reliable guardian,
Enveloping me as I crawl panicked,
My uniform once regal,
Is now a butchers apron,

Knees and elbows ragged,
Each pound of the earth shakes forth more debris,
Fellow conscripts lie about as charnel meat,
Carved by arms dealer produce,
This ditch has become the grave of many,
Its mud surely pining to consume me too,
As readily as any artillery,

Knees and elbows bloodied,
Exhaustion grips me,
I crash beside a shredded standard,
I did not choose this war,
Have no ability to quell its fury,
But now I lay amidst its masterpiece,
Etched in grunge and gore and steel.

My father told me to watch the skies,
A crestfallen voice nursing a missing leg,
He said there were eagles up there,
They’d taken his locomotion in flashes of patriotism,
Ironclad falcons,
Armed to the beak,
Hunting through dead metal eyes,
A video game played malms away,
These vulturine creatures brought death and gunpowder,
Bestowing firestorms at a moments notice,
Butchering villain and victim both,

Father said they were here to remove obstacles two,
Deplorables and witnesses,
To feast upon the black gold we dare live upon,
To eat and answer to nobody.

The battle was won,
The dead collected,
And now it was time to revel,
To the longhouse,
The fire burned ochre and coral,
Roaring along with the cheerful ruckus,

The hall was a banquet of cheers and hurrahs,
The skalds sang long into the early hours,
Singing of the exploits of axes and swords both,
Mead ran like amber showers,
The scent of both pork and sweat frothed brashly,
And the sound was a human cacophony of joy,

The triumph of the day was diluted by the sombreness,
Like watered down ale,
The slain would not join them,
But they indulged all the same,
They knew their comrades revelled in Valhalla too,
And would join arms with them again one day.

The Earth strives to heal,
From the corruption of warfare,
Still wounded decades later,
Still polluted by the arsenic of empires,

From the minds of old men,
Did these scars across the land come,
Painted by bone shards and blood of the young,
Spread by the quills of artillery and lead,

Many souls died here,
Laid to rest in craters,
Mother Nature lies beside them in solidarity,
Mourning for the industrial slaughter,

And the planet still weeps,
Those tears of acid rain,
She hates those old men,
And endeavours to right their wrongs.

Hello there inmates!

I’m having a rather adequate week, I’m glad you asked! How have you all been? I hope you’ve all been working hard and playing harder. The weather on our little island has been a little bit bi-polar so far. We had a pretty major storm here that has caused some inconvenience to various homeowners and outdoor workers. I’m not a huge fan of the rain you see, though I must admit thunder storms are rather amazing to watch from indoors. However, the very next day it’s right back to boiling hot sun! Grr! Oh yea, the writing has been rather uplifting this week. I’ve had some wonderful comments that have made me feel really nice and warm inside.

So, let’s talk music eh? Did anybody get the clue for todays musical theme? Well, let me tell you what it is. I’m sure the suspense has been killing you. No? Well, that’s alright! The theme for todays music is combat! Yep, swords striking against one another, the swoosh of martial arts attacks and the thundering pound of artillery fire. War, physical prowess and military history are extremely dense and powerful areas for inspiration when it comes to music. We all have witnessed warfare and fighting, whether it be regrettably in person, or on the silver screen. Powerful emotions run through these things like pulsing veins. Anger, sorrow and pain are prime examples of this. Combat is, unfortunately so, a very human exercise. So, would you like to hear the artist I’ve chosen to demonstrate my little spiel here? Well, I’m only too happy to oblige.

Join me as we delve into the minds of martial artists the world over! (See what I did there?)

Whispered – Dead Cold Inside
https://www.whisperedband.com/

Sabaton – Fields Of Verdun
https://www.sabaton.net/

Forlorn Hope – Vive l’empereur
https://forlornhope.uk/home

Port Sulphur Band – Bullet’s Lullaby
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCdH8YP4UmTlnBNS3Zs6HlQQ

Olivier Adams- Mortal Kombat
https://www.facebook.com/olivier.adams

And there we have it for another week. What did you think of all of those? I actually struggled to find songs I liked in many different genres for this theme. Could anybody suggest any songs/artists from some other genres, I’d be very interested to hear them! I hope that you all give these artists a look, they all deserve the exposure in my opinion. That last one was a bit of a joke choice, but it is still very much combat-oriented. Give them all some love eh?

Well, I ought to include some social media stuff in case anybody is curious. The asylum has a page over on Facebook, an account over on Instagram and an account on Twitter. Come and like me over there to see clues for my poems ahead of time! Also, if you enjoy what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over at the Ko-Fi page! Thank you for everything!

Until next time, have a very crazy day inmates!

I was conscripted,
Forced into these daylight trenches,
By a dice roll,
Snake eyes,
Fighting tooth and nail every year,
Ill-equipped,
Each turn of the sun another foe beaten,
Another hill won with blood,
My standard grows ever more grey,
A tired old veteran in the works,
And once the war is finally over,
I shall take the skeletal hand of the dark,
Like an old comrade,
And finally rest in calm halls.

Do the skies suck away compassion?
Because I see aviators without humanity,
Bomber crews without hearts,
Execrable souls within an iron demon,
Screeching along the zephyrs,
Where even angels fear to follow,

Does the pilot care for those his bombs flatten?
The lands rent by his payload?
I daresay not,
They simply cheer in patriotic tones,
Smirks underneath aviator caps,
Careless of the mushroom cloud in their wake,

They return to their air base sancerre,
And toast to the screams.