Goodbye now to the bush
Goodbye now to the bush
and patrols that go on
almost endlessly,
ration packs that never really differ,
the sun rising over unknown places,
death and hardship on unknown faces,
bullets flying past
and rocket propelled grenades exploding,
the stark mad bark of the LMG,
but I wonder how long
this piece will last.
[Reference: LMG => Light machinegun.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Wanting to know if I am all right?
I dream about a helicopter
that is whining chattering
while I am shooting clattering
with the machinegun in the door
and in the dark night
I see tracers drawing lines
to down below
and see the enemy run
in the silver light
cast by the moon
and in the distance
a bolt of lightning falls
just past a place
were a torch hangs in the air
like a small sun
and it’s as if a rocket propelled grenade
zooms in from below,
brushes past
exploding behind us somewhere
and when I awake
I am still twitching next to you
and you touch me comforting
and want to know if I am all right?
poem by Gert Strydom
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Parabats
Smiting death when we parachute in,
flying on silken wings through the sky,
gathered in a brown storm
that sweeps in
and the enemy like puppets perish
where we land.
We cannot give back life
like God to tformed clay,
yet we are forced to take away existence
day by day
with machinegun, mortar
and rocket propelled grenade.
Fearless men ready to endure,
trusting in God alone.
[Reference: Parabats=> South African airborne soldiers.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Out of military boots
Out of military boots
I come moulded to be a different person
and in nature could finally find some serenity
with the hot sun blazing above me
catching the birdcalls on the breeze.
From battlefields I did rise,
astounded to be still living
with hundreds of stories
of fools and very brave men
and the silence is almost deafening
with no rattle of any light-machinegun
no exploding rocket propelled shells
and I dream about a world
that is free form any disharmony
where the judgement day,
the outbreak of war,
exists no more
and everyone is free
to live a life in respectability.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A shot rang out like lightning out of a gun
Goodbye to the land where the sun always shine,
to the blue sky that always is bright,
goodbye to the light that comes every day
and hello to that midnight which is cold and dark.
A shot rang out like lightning out of a gun
fading the sun while white vapour rose
out of a shot out armoured car,
I couldn’t close my eyes or look away.
Goodbye to that enemy tank stopped in its tracks
against a bank of earth
while my armoured car’s gun rang out
sending a phosphorus shell with fire from hell.
A rocket flew past with a flaming tail
like a star falling from the sky
before exploding against a tree with a blast
and goodbye to the enemy soldiers who fired it
while we moved past at speed
with a machinegun howling a great cry.
I heard that enemy commander weeping over the radio
while his frequencies were blocked
being in shock
and sounding like the voices of many men
crying in the anguish of death
as if a deadly net had been cast
and I wish that I could understand Spanish
but the noise was ear-splitting
and it was goodbye to tank after tank
and goodbye with blast after blast and going in quick
stopping, firing and running away fast
and every enemy armoured car we found
only got one shot
till the last shell had being fired
and tired we went to fetch some more,
ate in a hurry before being wished good luck
and going back to war.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Before the storming of the Casinga trenches
The past was going in seconds
while I was being sheltered
behind a small wall, with bullets,
mortars and rockets
whining and exploding, dark was everything,
dark was all
with death spreading its tentacles,
gripping mostly the enemy
bringing them to a fall
but for those barely out of range,
covered by trenches
the change from living to dead
were only minutes away
but the present was catching up with them,
with sniper bullets, mortars homing in
and hand grenades arcing dead on target
and the enemy trench lying straight ahead
to win the battle, the only way to tread
and the future of living or dying
was drawing down on the intersection
of the order: to take the trench.
[Reference: Full Moon At Tierz: Before The Storming Of Huesca by John Cornford.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Trench charge
Firing from his hip he was running,
with the light machinegun kicking
dressed in a brown army uniform
running towards a trench
while bullets whistled, swished past him
with some kicking up dust around him
and like a machine functioning
at perfect speed and timing
he lobbed a grenade
somewhat like a cricket ball
but with a deadly sting
into the trench
before dropping behind a small stone wall
waiting for the explosive cracking sound
giving instructions with hand signs
to the troops that followed him
and when it came
he let of a few bursts
with the light machinegun
on its folded out stand
before half-terrified, filled with adrenaline
he started running again
with his troops following him,
shooting from the hip
and at the enemy trench
jumps straight in
spraying soldiers dressed in olive green
with flaming hot bullets,
smelling the fumes of cordite,
mixed with sand and death
with every breath burning
in his chest and throat
without time to really think,
just to comprehend
and to react, noting dust flying
from the wall next to his head
were passing enemy bullets were slamming.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Unknown
This unknown figure...
This unknown place...
Where am I at anyways?
This unknown feeling that I have,
This unknown pain inside;
I can't run away from.
Unknown heart, Unknown soul,
All unknown and all gone.
Sadden by all of this and all that's left..
Is me with no feeling...
I'm gone and lost and can't find a way out!
I'm an unknown person,
And an unknown girl who can't be seen.
I'm invisible, I'm a nobody,
I'm an unknown figure to people.
I'm gone forever and ever...right?
poem by Jessica Lee
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Destination Unknown
Im getting outta here cause theres too many complications
Yeah Im getting outta here dont get driven any information
And if they ask you for a number to call just say Im gone thats all
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
If anybody wants me just say you dont know the address
Cause Ive had enough of the confusion and the madness
And should anybody ever try to stall, just say Im gone thats all
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
Im tired of playing other peoples games
Tired of waiting for some things to change
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
Im tired of playing other peoples games
Tired of waiting for some things to change
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Have Floated Through The Sky
I have floated through the sky
while bullets whipped by
and on that day
my God sheltered me with his wings,
sheltered me from exploding things
from rockets, grenades
and even in
the valley of death
walked with me
and helped me to see
the horrific disaster called war
and the tragedy that it enacted
on the innocent, even on soldiers
forced to be there as enemy.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The known and the unknown
Life is known as known.
Death is known as unknown.
Self is unknown as known.
But God? It is unknown as unknown.
05.08.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Peace In A Palace
'You were weeping in the night,' said the Emperor,
'Weeping in your sleep, I am told.'
'It was nothing but a dream,' said the Empress;
But her face grew gray and old.
'You thought you saw our German God defeated?'
'Oh, no!' she said. 'I saw no lightnings fall.
I dreamed of a whirlpool of green water,
Where something had gone down. That was all.
_'All but the whimper of the sea gulls flying,
Endlessly round and round,
Waiting for the faces, the faces from the darkness,
The dreadful rising faces of the drowned._
'It was nothing but a dream,' said the Empress.
'I thought I was walking on the sea;
And the foam rushed up in a wild smother,
And a crowd of little faces looked at me.
They were drowning! They were drowning,' said the Empress,
'And they stretched their feeble arms to the sky;
But the worst was--they mistook me for their mother,
And cried as my children used to cry.
_'Nothing but a whimper of the sea-gulls flying,
Endlessly round and round,
With the cruel yellow beaks that were waiting for the faces,
The little floating faces of the drowned.'_
'It was nothing but a dream,' said the Emperor,
'So why should you weep, dear, eh?'--
'Oh, I saw the red letters on a life belt
That the green sea washed my way!'--
'What were they?' said the Emperor. 'What were they?'--
'Some of them were hidden,' said the Empress,
'But I plainly saw the L and the U!'
'In God's name, stop!' said the Emperor.
'You told me that it was not true!
_'Told me that you dreamed of the sea gulls flying,
Endlessly round and round,
Waiting for the faces, and the eyes in the faces,
The eyes of the children that we drowned._
'Kiss me and forget it,' said the Emperor,
'Dry your tears on the tassel of my sword.
I am going to offer peace to my people,
And abdicate, perhaps, as overlord.
I shall now take up My Cross as Count of Prussia--
Which is not a heavy burden, you'll agree.
Why, before the twenty million dead are rotten
There'll be yachting days again for you and me.
Cheer up!
It would mean a rope for anyone but Me.'
_'Oh, take care!' said the Empress. 'They are flying,
Endlessly round and round.
They have finished with the faces, the dreadful little faces,
The little eyeless faces of the drowned.'_
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Astral Plane
I lie down
On the bed
Relax into my own head
I start to feel
The power
Of the astral light
Rising through my body
Faster than
The speed of light
I feel a calm
As my body shoots
Into an astral time
As I ride along
On the colours
Of the astral plane
I see far away places
Sandy beaches
Seas so blue
I see places
With no faces
Faces with no places
People from my past life
People from the next
Then I return to my bed
With peace in my head
Knowing it's not
My journeys end
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Sacred to the Memory of “Unknown”
Oh, the wild black swans fly westward still,
While the sun goes down in glory—
And away o’er lonely plain and hill
Still runs the same old story:
The sheoaks sigh it all day long—
It is safe in the Big Scrub’s keeping—
’Tis the butcher-birds’ and the bell-birds’ song
In the gum where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping—
(It is heard in the chat of the soldier-birds
O’er the grave where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping).
Ah! the Bushmen knew not his name or land,
Or the shame that had sent him here—
But the Bushmen knew by the dead man’s hand
That his past life lay not near.
The law of the land might have watched for him,
Or a sweetheart, wife, or mother;
But they bared their heads, and their eyes were dim,
For he might have been a brother!
(Ah! the death he died brought him near to them,
For he might have been a brother.)
Oh, the wild black swans to the westward fade,
And the sunset burns to ashes,
And three times bright on an eastern range
The light of a big star flashes,
Like a signal sent to a distant strand
Where a dead man’s love sits weeping.
And the night comes grand to the Great Lone Land
O’er the grave where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping,
And the big white stars in their clusters blaze
O’er the Bush where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The old savage dream again was back
The old savage dream again was back
of enemy tanks coming down the track,
useless the light machinegun was stuttering
as exploding shells made both my ears sing
while I could find no kind of escape,
events caught speed like a winding video tape,
I was firing from the hip without effect
had no ready rocket launcher to select,
heard the nearing enemy tank tracks groan,
while my limbs were slow, turning to stone;
from the blue sky a screeching eagle fell,
death was in its claws, triumph in its yell,
while it dropped scorching deadly flame,
heroic returning under fire to do the same.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Wicker Man
Hand of fate is moving and the finger points to you
He knocks you to your feet and so what are you gonna do
Your tongue has frozen now youve got something to say
The piper at the gates of dawn is calling you his way
You watch the world exploding every single night
Dancing in the sun a newborn in the light
Say goodbye to gravity and say goodbye to death
Hello to eternity and live for every breath
Your time will come, your time will come
Your time will come, your time will come
The ferryman wants his money you aint going to give it back
He can push his own boat as you set up off the track
Nothing you can contemplate will ever be the same
Every second is a new spark, sets the universe aflame
You watch the world exploding every single night
Dancing in the sun a newborn in the light
Brothers and their fathers joining hands and make a chain
The shadow of the wicker man is rising up again
Your time will come, your time will come
Your time will come, your time will come
Your time will come, your time will come
Your time will come, your time will come
Your time will come, your time will come
Your time will come, your time will come
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unknown Sky
Clock t[r]icks past midnight’s arbitrary mark,
set within time-zone drawn through needle’s eye.
Another night sails on as vital spark
skips over time-line, casts an unseen die
rolling haphazardly across light, dark
patchwork weaving quilt for unknown sky.
But soon sky sinks, eyes close, as all must die.
Thus I record ephemera, remark
subjectively, - however hard I try
to grasp relationships, steer blind my bark
between s[c]yllabic whirlpools ‘how’ and ‘why’ -
until, in turn, sucked into one way sleep,
I
lie
stark.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Farmer remembers the Somme
Will they never fade or pass!
The mud, and the misty figures endlessly coming
In file through the foul morass,
And the grey flood-water ripping the reeds and grass,
And the steel wings drumming.
The hills are bright in the sun:
There's nothing changed or marred in the well-known places;
When work for the day is done
There's talk, and quiet laughter, and gleams of fun
On the old folks' faces.
I have returned to these:
The farm, and the kindly Bush, and the young calves lowing;
But all that my mind sees
Is a quaking bog in a mist - stark, snapped trees,
And the dark Somme flowing.
poem by Vance Palmer
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The Future Of The Past
New times are now old ones,
Old ones are now history,
History becomes ancient,
Ancient becomes unknown,
Unknown shifts though time,
Shaping and molding in every which way,
Unknown times become myths,
Myths become religions,
False becomes truth,
Truths move to morals,
Morals are now what we live by,
Now has just become then,
The past has once been the future,
The future will soon become the past,
You were once born in the future of the past,
But the past has caught up,
And taken you with it.
Like a deadly arrow the past pierces life,
The future itself becomes victim to its strike.
As if to be Bonnie and Clyde,
Hand in hand the two opposites collide,
Together bringing everything to their long awaited fate.
Doing what they do best toward their ever most passions,
The future and the past are, and were, the two deadliest assassins,
Today,
Tomorrow,
And yesterday...
poem by Justin MonacoBarnes
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Time To Turn Off The Light
Now it's time to turn off the light
Now it's time to - say goodbye
Planet colors is coming back
Once again - someday
Time was flying by, on silent wings
Now we have to say goodnight
Time was flying by, we gave our best
Now we're turning off the light
The love you gave - is our strength
We're now at the end - and soon we'll come back again
Time was flying by, the lights go off
The curtain has to fall again
Time was flying by, you gave us joy
We say goodbye and wave our hands
Now it's time to turn off the light
Now it's time to - say goodbye
Planet colors is coming back
Once again - someday
Hope you enjoyed the show
Now it's time to go
We thank you for a party we will never forget
Now it's time to turn off the light
Planet colors, say goodbye, say goodbye
Time to turn off the light
For saying good night
We thank you for coming
Time to turn off the light
For saying good night
We hope you enjoyed the show
Hope you enjoyed the show
Now it's time to go
We thank you for a party we will never forget
Now it's time to turn off the light
Planet colors, say goodbye, say goodbye
Being with you has been an important part of my life
To see your smiling faces ,to feel your energy
Knowing you've come a long way to be a part of the show
We will always come back, whenever you need us
From the bottom of my heart, I thank you
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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a Ray of sunlight
It was in the middle of the day
and the sun was high and bright,
in the deep blue African sky.
The LMG was getting heavy
and hot in my hands
and gnats were turning
round the piece of grass
in my brown bush hat.
Sweat were running
down my face
and like any other day,
a patrol in the hot
African bush was great fun
especially when your water
bottle was near empty
and your throat started to burn
and the going was fast.
The bushman tracker
was hot on the enemy spoor
and where the terrain
got more open,
we halted for a moment.
a Ray of sunlight
reflected bright like a flash light,
somewhere to the left
and pointed out an enemy ambush.
We half circled past
and attacked from their rear
and the LMG stuttered
from my hip
and suddenly the bush was clear
and the firefight was over
and an ominous silence hanged
deep in the African bush.
[Reference: => LMG=> Light machine gun. Spoor=>Track]
poem by Gert Strydom
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