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Captain Orlando Killion

Oh, you young radicals and dreamers,
You dauntless fledglings
Who pass by my headstone,
Mock not its record of my captaincy in the army
And my faith in God!
They are not denials of each other.
Go by reverently, and read with sober care
How a great people, riding with defiant shouts
The centaur of Revolution,
Spurred and whipped to frenzy,
Shook with terror, seeing the mist of the sea
Over the precipice they were nearing,
And fell from his back in precipitate awe
To celebrate the Feast of the Supreme Being.
Moved by the same sense of vast reality
Of life and death, and burdened as they were
With the fate of a race,
How was I, a little blasphemer,
Caught in the drift of a nation's unloosened flood,
To remain a blasphemer,
And a captain in the army?

poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Army Dreamers

B.f.p.o.*
Army dreamers.
Mammys hero.
B.f.p.o.
Mammys hero.
Our little army boy
Is coming home from b.f.p.o.
Ive a bunch of purple flowers
To decorate a mammys hero.
Mourning in the aerodrome,
The weather warmer, he is colder.
Four men in uniform
To carry home my little soldier.
What could he do?
Should have been a rock star.
But he didnt have the money for a guitar.
What could he do?
Should have been a politician.
But he never had a proper education.
What could he do?
Should have been a father.
But he never even made it to his twenties.
What a waste --
Army dreamers.
Ooh, what a waste of
Army dreamers.
Tears oer a tin box.
Oh, jesus christ, he wasnt to know,
Like a chicken with a fox,
He couldnt win the war with ego.
Give the kid the pick of pips,
And give him all your stripes and ribbons.
Now hes sitting in his hole,
He might as well have buttons and bows.
What could he do?
Should have been a rock star.
But he didnt have the money for a guitar.
What could he do?
Should have been a politician.
But he never had a proper education.
What could he do?
Should have been a father.
But he never even made it to his twenties.
What a waste --
Army dreamers.
Ooh, what a waste of
Army dreamers.
Ooh, what a waste of all that
Army dreamers,
Army dreamers,
Army dreamers, oh...
(b.f.p.o.)
Did-n-did-n-did-n-dum...
Army dreamers.
Did-n-did-n-did-n-dum...
(mammys hero.)
(b.f.p.o.)
Army dreamers.
(mammys hero.)
(b.f.p.o.)
No harm heroes.
(mammys hero.)
(b.f.p.o.)
Army dreamers.
(mammys hero.)
(b.f.p.o.)
No harm heroes.

song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grafted Into the Army

Our Jimmy has gone for to live in a tent,
they have grafted him into the Army,
he finally puckered up courage and went,
when they grafted him into the Army.
I told them the child was too young, alas!
At the captains forequarters, they said he would pass,
they'd train him up well in the Infantry class,
so they grafted him into the Army.

Oh, Jimmy, farewell! Your brothers fell way down in Alabammy;
I though they would spare a lone widder's heir,
but they grafted him into the Army.

Dressed up in his unicorn, dear little chap,
they have grafted him into the Army;
it seems but a day since he sot in my lap,
but they grafted him into the Army.
And these are the trousies he used to wear,
them very same buttons, the patch and the tear;
but Uncle Sam gave him a bran' new pair
when they grafted him into the Army.

Now in my provisions I see him revealed,
they have grafted him into the Army;
a picket beside the contented field,
they have grafted him into the Army.
He looks kinder sickish -- begins to cry,
a big volunteer standing right in his eye!
Oh, what if the ducky should up and die,
now they've grafted him into the Army.

poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death’s Too Near

Death, you’re standing rather near!
Don’t you understand the fear
You trigger deep within my soul–?
The terror sprung by such a ghoul
Of dark and hideous hue!

Now you’re rattling on my door!
I’m sure I threw you out before –
Methinks you really need to learn!
So leg it please and ne’er return
To haunt me ‘gain, now shoo!

Gain a sense of social pride, and
Keep your bearing far and wide –
Perform the deed when I am done –
Be free and loose to have your fun
When I’m too frail to turn and run,
But now I’ve living to do!

Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death
Death, death, nearing death
Death, death, death
Death, death
Death
Death, death
Death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wildwood Boys

(j. dickinson-r. cooder)
This here was our situation
We was just young wildwood boys
New as the birth of the nation
The kind that the army employs
High riding rebs from missouri
Fought for the grey ? ? ?
Caught up by the battle and the fury
Back when just living was hell
After the battle was over
And after the union had won
It was quitting that made us the loser
So we kept doing just what wed done
Riding as comrads together
We looted the trains and the banks
Removing that carpetbag money
And sticking it hard to the yanks
Death always follows behind you
When you ride down that old outlaw trail
Someday a bullet will find you
Or youll rot like a corpse in some jail
Turning your back to the danger
Is a wager no man can afford
cause gold turns a friend to a stranger
Like old judas turned on our lord
Men are revered and remembered
While they lay in that coffin and rot
Some live in the legends of history
Most are forever forgot
The victory it goes to the strongest
And only the strong will survive
Survival is living the longest
But nobody gets out alive
The questions dont never get answered
And the rights, theyre remembered all wrong
The facts, they can get plenty confusing
So someday if you happen to be singing this song
Remember its just for the record
You cant change the handwork of fate
And tell em I lived for the moment
And I died when I tried to go straight

song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Temperance Army

Come all ye friends, and citizens,
Where-ever you may be,
Come listen to a few kind words
A friend will say to thee,
Although going to speak to you
I mean you all no harm,
Tho' I wish you'd join the army
Of the temperance reform.

Come join the glorious army
Of the temperance reform,
And every man that joins the ranks,
Will find it is no harm,
To wear Red Ribbon on his breast,
To show to this rare world,
There is one that joined the army
And his colors has unfurled.

Come all men in our nation,
Come join this happy band,
And make your homes an eden,
Throughout our happy land.
Your homes will then be happy,
Your friends will all be kind;
And in the domestic circle
True happiness will find.

Ah, from this temperance army,
Your feet shall never stray.
Your mind will then be balmy
If you keep the shining way.
Your paths are strewn with flowers,
And your homes are rosy light,
And God will watch the hours,
For He's ever on the right.

Come all ye merry happy lads,
And listen to my rhyme.
Don't be afraid to join the pledge
And let be the cursed wine.
Ah, lay the flowing bowl aside,
And pass saloons if you can,
And let the people see that you
Can be a sober man.

Go join the temperance army,
And battle for the right,
And fight against the enemy
With all your main and might.
For it is a glorious army
This temperance reform,
And the badge Red Ribbon
Will do you all no harm.

poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Indomitable Spirit

INDOMITABLE SPIRIT
Melvin Banggollay

N-inoy is jailed yet never conquered
His body has been put in a dungeon
Sealed with much pains so unheard
But still His spirit soared out of oblivion.

I got no army with powers truly feared
Nor with flickering gold of the nation
I got only an indomitable spirit unaltered
With hope and faith to die for freedom

N-inoy died fighting for our freedom
Not with goons and power of guns
But with his indomitable faith as a man
Willing to die to restore our freedom.

O-ut of his enjoyable life in Boston’s land
He journeyed back for our freedom
Even the hiss of death is really at hand
he fighted his fear to die for our freedom.

Y-ou and I and the whole eyes of nations
Witnessed the lamb of our dear freedom
Calmly faced his death without hesitation
With a bullet from fool soldiers’ arms.

They killed this young honorable man
But they can never kill the spirit of freedom
Within this man that always lives beyond
Inspiring us to fight and die for freedom.

He was the lamb of the Filipino’s freedom
Who offered his life to wake up everyone
That no one man can decide the fate of a land
For a nation’s fate lives in everybody’s hand.

poem by Melvin Banggollay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Nation Must Stand Firm

If openly they commit misdeeds,
Then the country shall remain,
And the nation exceeds
In the number of troops again.

The army has pain all abhorrent,
Many strike fear and retaliation
For they do not know who is absent,
The army or the law? Whose acceleration?

I guarantee the spread of health,
Active are the infantry in their strength,
May the legion carry its stealth
And let radio the wavelength.

We exceed the enemy in power
And we declare a truce;
What do we do as we are abler?
Abduct the foe with no abuse.

Let the nation stand firm against enemy control,
And let ages pass sweeter than charcoal.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Peace Carrier, Sapporo's Jieitai

Ever seen an army
Taking care of trees?
Army men, all smiley
Kindly care for kids?

Searching woods and mountains
To save people's lives
Instead of filling up fountains
With blood, or give painful cries?

Come see with own eyes
Such army that rise
To melt people's hearts
With sculptures of ice.

Sweating for a smile
Sapporo's Jieitai
Works hard for a month
to show how an army
can be nice and kind.

The 62nd Sapporo's Snow Festival starts on Feb.7. All the snow for it is carried by Sapporo's Self Defense Forces.Also(traditionally) they 're to have one of the main snow sculptures on Odori park.Till a few years before had own marvellous site with huge snow and ice slides and army men (smiling) would care for every single person's ride. Thousands and thousands of kids smiled and felt warmed by the work of this army's hands.

poem by Elena Sandu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Army, O, My Army!

My Army, O, my army! The time I dreamed of comes!
I want to see your colours; I want to hear your drums!
I heard them in my boyhood when all men’s hearts seemed cold;
I heard them as a Young Man—and I am growing old!
My army, O, my army! The signs are manifold!
My army, O, my army! My army and my Queen!
I used to sing your battle-songs when I was seventeen!
They came to me from ages, they came from far and near;
They came to me from Paris, they came to me from Here!—
They came when I was marching with the Army of the Rear.

My Queen’s dark eyes were flashing (oh, she was younger then!);
My Queen’s Red Cap was redder than the reddest blood of men!
My Queen marched like an Amazon, with anger manifest—
Her dark hair darkly matted from a knifegash in her breast
(For blood will flow where milk will not—her sisters knew the rest).

My legions ne’er were listed, they had no need to be;
My army ne’er was trained in arms—’twas trained in misery!
It took long years to mould it, but war could never drown
The shuffling of my army’s feet in the hunger-haunted town—
A little child was murdered, and so Tyranny went down.

My army kept no order, my army kept no time;
My army dug no trenches, yet died in dust and slime;
Its troops were fiercely ignorant, as to the manner born;
Its clothes were rags and tatters, or patches worn and torn—
Ah, me! It wore a uniform that I have often worn!

The faces of my army were ghastly as the dead;
My army’s cause was Hunger, my army’s cry was “Bread!”
It called on God and Mary and Christ of Nazareth;
It cried to kings and courtesans that fainted at its breath—
Its women beat their poor, flat breasts where babes had starved to death.

My army! My army—I hear the sound of drums
Above the roar of battles—and, lo! my army comes!
Nor creed of man may stay it—nor war, nor nation’s law—
The pikes go through the firing-lines as pitchforks go through straw—
Like pitchforks through the litter, while empires stand in awe.

poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back to the Army Again

I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at,
A-layin' on the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat;
My shirt's doin' duty for jacket, my sock's stickin' out o' my boots,
An' I'm learnin' the damned old goose-step along o' the new recruits!

Back to Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
Don't look so 'ard, for I 'aven't no card,
I'm back to the Army again!

I done my six years' service. 'Er Majesty sez: "Good day --
You'll please to come when you're rung for, an' 'ere's your 'ole back-pay:
An' fourpence a day for baccy -- an' bloomin' gen'rous, too;
An' now you can make your fortune -- the same as your orf'cers do."

Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
'Ow did I learn to do right-about-turn?
I'm back to the Army again!

A man o' four-an'-twenty that 'asn't learned of a trade --
Beside "Reserve" agin' him -- 'e'd better be never made.
I tried my luck for a quarter, an' that was enough for me,
An' I thought of 'Er Majesty's barricks, an' I thought I'd go an' see.

Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
'Tisn't my fault if I dress when I 'alt --
I'm back to the Army again!

The sergeant arst no questions, but 'e winked the other eye,
'E sez to me, " 'Shun!" an' I shunted, the same as in days gone by;
For 'e saw the set o' my shoulders, an' I couldn't 'elp 'oldin' straight
When me an' the other rookies come under the barrik-gate.

Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
'Oo would ha' thought I could carry an' port?
I'm back to the Army again!

I took my bath, an' I wallered -- for, Gawd, I needed it so!
I smelt the smell o' the barricks, I 'eard the bugles go.
I 'eard the feet on the gravel -- the feet o' the men what drill --
An' I sez to my flutterin' 'eart-strings, I sez to 'em, "Peace, be still!"

Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
'Oo said I knew when the troopship was due?
I'm back to the Army again!

I carried my slops to the tailor; I sez to 'im, "None o' your lip!
You tight 'em over the shoulders, an' loose 'em over the 'ip,
For the set o' the tunic's 'orrid." An' 'e sez to me, "Strike me dead,
But I thought you was used to the business!" an' so 'e done what I said.

Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
Rather too free with my fancies? Wot -- me?
I'm back to the Army again!

Next week I'll 'ave 'em fitted; I'll buy me a swagger-cane;
They'll let me free o' the barricks to walk on the Hoe again,
In the name o' William Parsons, that used to be Edward Clay,
An' -- any pore beggar that wants it can draw my fourpence a day!

Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
Out o' the cold an' the rain, sergeant,
Out o' the cold an' the rain.
'Oo's there?

A man that's too good to be lost you,
A man that is 'andled an' made --
A man that will pay what 'e cost you
In learnin' the others their trade -- parade!
You're droppin' the pick o' the Army
Because you don't 'elp 'em remain,
But drives 'em to cheat to get out o' the street
An' back to the Army again!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'd come out of the army after five years as a medic. I was a medical administrator and we ran hospitals, and I was a Captain in the army at the end, in 1945.

quote by Eli Wallach
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Underground Army

Ill be a soldier for you
Protect you and the cities surrounding too
Your underground army will be swarming
If you just say you want me too
Ill be a soldier for you
Lost in your spirit
Rolling down hills
But you cannot see you are
Nothing makes sense when everything else is
Finding the downside
Think of the faith were running out of days
Well get through the meantime
The road is long no forces drove home
But you will be all right
And I will feel better when you feel better
Ill be a soldier for you
Protect you and the cities surrounding too
Your underground army will be swarming
If you just say you want me too
Ill be a soldier for you
Go first in all that you do
Your underground army will be swarming
If you just say you want me too
You cant just love you and let you through
You seek out whenever home
So Ill stick around and help you figure out
These situations coming through
Weve come to an end and there is much to defend
And I will feel better when you feel better
Ill be a soldier for you
Protect you and the cities surrounding too
Your underground army will be swarming
If you just say you want me too
Ill be a soldier for you
Go first in all that you do
Your underground army will be swarming
If you just say you want me too
Woah woah
I said Id be a soldier for you
Protect you and the cities surrounding too
Your underground army will be swarming
If you just say you want me too
Ill be a soldier for you
Go first in all that you do
Your underground army will be swarming
If you just say you want me too
Your underground army will be swarming
If you just say you want me too
Oooohh Woooaaah
I said Ill feel better when you feel better

song performed by by Anastacia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beleaguered City, The

I have read, in some old, marvellous tale,
Some legend strange and vague,
That a midnight host of spectres pale
Beleaguered the walls of Prague.

Beside the Moldau's rushing stream,
With the wan moon overhead,
There stood, as in an awful dream,
The army of the dead.

White as a sea-fog, landward bound,
The spectral camp was seen,
And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
The river flowed between.

No other voice nor sound was there,
No drum, nor sentry's pace;
The mist-like banners clasped the air,
As clouds with clouds embrace.

But when the old cathedral bell
Proclaimed the morning prayer,
The white pavilions rose and fell
On the alarmed air.

Down the broad valley fast and far
The troubled army fled;
Up rose the glorious morning star,
The ghastly host was dead.

I have read, in the marvellous heart of man,
That strange and mystic scroll,
That an army of phantoms vast and wan
Beleaguer the human soul.

Encamped beside Life's rushing stream,
In Fancy's misty light,
Gigantic shapes and shadows gleam
Portentous through the night.

Upon its midnight battle-ground
The spectral camp is seen,
And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
Flows the River of Life between.

No other voice nor sound is there,
In the army of the grave;
No other challenge breaks the air,
But the rushing of Life's wave.

And when the solemn and deep churchbell
Entreats the soul to pray,
The midnight phantoms feel the spell,
The shadows sweep away.

Down the broad Vale of Tears afar
The spectral camp is fled;
Faith shineth as a morning star,
Our ghastly fears are dead.

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Voices Of The Night : The Beleaguered City