Friday, April 11, 2008


There goeth thou man tight skinned,
That covereth the flesh that sinned,
Were you the one forged at eden?
Structured for glory, immortal zen?

Clawing from within your spirit yearns,
Lust stinking lust from rocks to ferns,
Your gray pulp moulded from fiery furnace,
Infused with knowledge to serve a purpose,

Yet the roots of your flesh cling to filth,
Your inner life damned, foul as sith,
Fornication beckons and tweeneth tight,
Like you it, and stand never to fight,

The crux of the universe faileth to behold,
A lost creation to darkness so sold,
Grave is the period, to the sentence of life,
Unravelling the enigma of the end to strife,

Encompassing the gates of yonder world,
Are the flames that draw into its grappling hold,
The soiled soul of thou man, tight skinned,
The sin bone deep, with marrows skimmed,

Destined to burn for eternity in the lake,
Lake of brimstone and lava, sins sake,
While you liveth, does not thine pulp churn,
Sin in the marrows, that now you burn.

Sunday, April 06, 2008


Smell of the gun powder so intense,
Bodies splattered among the fence,
His gun grappled in his arms,
Night dark and fearful, its raining bombs,
He turns behind and sees life ebbing,
A man without a limb screaming,
The din of gunfire and the smoke enthralls,
He scampers for cover, fear calls,
The mounds of concrete and metal,
No rest for days, felling like in a hot kettle,
The earth shaking blasts that thunders,
When will his life wither, he ponders,
Hears the whistle of a flying bullet close,
A shell explodes close, injured blood flows,
Blood over his eyes, blinding his vision,
All his comrades captured or fallen,
Lone soldier he crawls without hope,
Over Rocks and metal, pain the yoke,
Seeing through the blood up in the sky,
Gunship choppers armed and high,
Scanning the ground to slaughter,
Life, at the mercy, soon to be a martyr?
Burnt bodies on which he crawls,
Red hot metal that cuts his flesh to fall,
Agony in knowing he is so very alone,
No energy, his morale to smithereens blown,
There crumbles a wall like a pack of cards,
He defies gravity everytime there is an explosion,
His body in the blast shock, confusion,
Revealing oncoming armoury with a platoon,
Armed to the teeth and his end soon,
There on the ground he lay still,
Saw his fallen comrade near, tears fill,
Who is his mother, where his dad?
What will they know, so very sad,
Is this why we are born? to die,
In the horror of the slaughter, he sighs,
When can humanity agree,
No peace but hate so free,
Pain in the flesh a common occurance,
As his foot is caught in the fence,
Sees at a distance the enemy armory,
As he searches, no ammunition for his weaponary,
Fastens his bayonet and decides to charge,
Scampering down the dirt mound facing the barrage,
Sees he a shell fired from a turret black,
Needs to take few lives down, injured but not slack,
Vison blurred, blood on face,
Clotted wrists, shocked and dazed,
As his movement down the mound,
There is a cracking and splattering sound,
A force that hits his chest and levitates him,
Thats the shell fired that hit him grim,
Falls he to the ground with a hole in his chest,
Flickering eyelids and he did his best,
The last man felled, the last man gone,
Tomorrow it will be you, this the war song,
Born to kill else born to die,
Motto of wars, nothing so I sigh,
There lies the man who never will crawl,
Nor ever can see a comrade fall.