The Whispers of War

The guns have not stopped firing,
I pray above for silence.
Around me the bodies of the dead,
The barren land soaking their blood.
Why me? Why me?O Lord!
My hope is shattered
As I stand alone,
Facing the music of the Grim Reaper.
He'll be playing my song soon, too.
What is this foreign music?
There is no escape,
Just gloom!
And the food is shit.
The children are wondering around
With no parents to hold their hand.
Another explosion, another man gone.
Why did they send me here?
No, that's not right.
I volunteered to come to this
Foreign land, from whose shore
Like Billy Shakespeare said:
'No traveller returns."
I have only myself to blame.
I could have said no.
Why on earth did I decide to come here?
Why did I come to Detroit?

 

That ending punches home! And I like the familiar- "Billy Shakespeare"! Sometimes we forget we're all just members of a single community. I'm not sure, especially given the Shakespearian reference, if this poem is a dream sequence or a provocative look at reality. Write on!

 

Thanks kidder. There will be more Scorpion verse as soon as I start abusing my dictionary again. Until then I leave a passing thought in the form of an anecdote.

An ode to thee, O Arafat serene.
Who will replace you,
In your struggle to win?
I hope with all virtue
That it's not Osama Bin
And Saddam's now in jail
But at least he looks clean
Perhaps they'll find someone
That's called Arathin.

PS. To whom it may concern:"We were all born on this world together. Stop killing each other NOW, idiots."

 

woooweeeee!

 

yes...you have again wowed mww with your literature...congrats scorp....

 

I have my moments, every few decades. Thanks guys and girls. I'm off to Athens to get some inspiration. I'll be back soon with a sting in my tail for the powers that be.

 

All we are saying,
Is give peace a chance.
Check out your spelling,
Isn't leave piss on France.

 

Dreams are what dreams be,
Dream a little dream for me,
With little people dressed in white,
Holding hands, not wanting to fight.
Dream on lovers,
Dream all night.
The world's still young,
There's hope, there's light.
If only Prez could set things right.
The dream would be real
But has he the sight?
The clock is ticking
I can smell mama's pie.
Everything's ok here,
There's no need to lie.
As long as it isn't me
That has to die,
I'll sit here and I'll dream,
Dream as time goes by.

 

uhhhmmmmmmmm yummy...

 

*yawn*

 

I guess my last one may have missed the mark, but think positive: what a great cure for insomnia. I tried to show a more delicate side to my writing, but perhaps I am past redemption, so let's try again:

There's a war outside my door
I can hear the noise
It's one hell of a row
There's a war outside my home
I'm gonna get my piece
And lock myself in.
I can hear the bitches screaming
Can't risk lettin' them in.
There's slaughter in my yard,
Gonna pop a cap in your ass
If you come near me.
Don't think I'm gona make this rhyme
You wanna make this rhyme?
Sue me you mother
But it's not gonna be.
I'm gonna pump ya
And beat ya
An' fill you up with lead.
I'm gonna open this door now motherf-
An' waste ya if you barge in,
Shiiit! It's just kids, man
I forgot it's Halloween.

 

All sides are cool, when you're a diamond!


S.

 

Slowly, slowly advance through the streets,
My rifle beside me, I'm fighting for peace,
I'll ambush them near the girl with the big tits
Wonder if after she'll give me a kiss.
What's that she's holding? It's giving off gas.
My God! It's a flamethrower!
She's gonna burn my ass!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGHHHHHHHH!

Now THAT is poetry!

 

Life and death is a gamble we all take,
When all your winnings lie on red,
The result is never fake.
I wish it would all end.
I wish I could go home.
Mama wrote a letter,
She says dad is doing fine,
And my sister has now grown.
As I sit in the arid desert,
The sun is torturing my head,
But there is a mission to be done,
There is a fortune to be read.
I load 'em up, hoping I'll win,
I shoot them without malace.
Just as well I'm not in Iraq.
I'm shooting craps in Caesar's Palace.

Happy New Year troops!
Shoot craps instead of people!

 

The Code of Courage

There are some sticky moments,
That we would all rather forget.
There always comes a time,
When we speak words that we regret.
Who would not turn the clock back
For just a day, to see things right?
Who would not stay at home
Protect his child when there's no light?
Sometimes we hate one another,
Sometimes nature joins in.
If we could learn that there is no other,
Then maybe,
Just maybe.
We might have a chance to win.

 

pfffft!

 

hmmm...

 

I knew that would stir your freedom fries

 

There once was a grenade called Roger,
That belonged to a very old codger
The guy who lived above was bound,
To play 'Kumbaya My Lord' very loud.
Hmm...guess what suffered the lodger.

 

My freedom fries are stirred and salted, thank you.

*giggle*

Write on, White Scorpion.