Related quotes: One rainy night at a...

The gamblers

One rainy night at a border camp
in the operational aria
I walked past a tent
and while the wind flapped open one side
a lightning bolt slammed down
into a tree near to me
sizzling with blue sparks flying
before it thundered cracking

and I saw some young soldier boys,
a group of troops
about the same age as I
sitting around a table
dressed in military vests
and brown military long pants
drinking brandy from a bottle
that they passed hand to hand
and I thought that they were probably
playing cards
or some sort of gambling game

when I heard the clicking sound
of the cylinder of a revolver being spun
and a dull click in an empty chamber
and knew which game was on

and walking right in
I took the gun from the next one
after it had again been spun
aimed it at the ground
next to the entrance and pulled the trigger
and the gun went off
with a bullet kicking up wet sand
near to the group of us.

Sheer terror had brought soberness
to the group
and those men were silent
with their eyes on my officer’s pips
and I took the revolver
and first thought about arresting
the lot of them but left them
to be sorted out by a sergeant
who followed me in
after admonishing them
with a very stern warning.

The very next day we went into action
were taken out
in some choppers
right into battle
and at the dropp zone
two rockets flew over my head
just after the last helicopter had lifted off

and the game was still on
for the brave young men
who accompanied me,
Russian roulette
with a bullet through the head
from a AK-47
or living on instead
from missed enemy shots.

[Reference: The gamblers by Anthony Delius.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes

Ballade of the guard commander

At dusk the sun sets fiery red
behind the bushes
where in beauty it brings tranquillity to the bush-veldt.

There are guards that I inspect as commander
where they stand neatly in a platoon
and I look at them one after the other and then right through them

walk to the guardroom on top of the shooting tower
and in the camp in the operational aria
every thing is in order, the guards are capable.

Early in the evening another officer
comes and plays a game of chess
and we drink icy glasses of beer

but when it gets later their is silence and peace
as if it’s just another evening in a thousand
and for some time I am still attentive to my duties

until the shadows draw out long against the walls,
my non commissioned officer starts to yawn
and I lie down on my camping bed

telling him to take charge, while I get tired
and sleep closes my eyes,
when an explosion wakes me.

Somewhere in the camp another bomb explodes,
I grab my firearm instruct the shooting tower to start firing
and fear is in me – that the general is going to come.

Tracers cut tracks through the night
torches are fired into the sky
and outside it’s bright as day

and we fire into the bushes
while I cannot determine where the enemy is
and do not really know where the firefight had started.

In the camp another bomb explodes,
I see a trooper throwing a hand grenade
and I am totally astounded

and fear is in me – that the general is going to come,
what am I going to say about what is happening here,
what am I going to report about the men below him?

It’s clear that it’s no enemy attack
and on the watchtower I lift my rifle
and when it resounds it’s an own man, an acquaintance

that I shoot down before he throws some more hand grenades
and everybody thinks that an enemy bullet pierces him,
while they shoot into the bushes and fire at will.

III

The morning is grey
and rainy when the day breaks
while there’s fear in me

where I have got to give account
about wounded men in three tents
and the death of one I carry with me,

while soldiers are on patrol in the bushes
and with a knob in my throat,
I know that no enemy is there and feel tired.

When I notice a helicopter it is clear that the general is coming
and the Lord knows that I had to shoot an own man,
but what will I show him of the preparedness of the camp?

With narrowed eyes
we wait on the parade ground
and eight of my men are wounded.

The dust rises from the turning blades
while the helicopter lands
and the blades turn slower.

Out of the cloud of dust three figures walk
with the general looking inexorable,
while my ears sing from the noise of the aircraft.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Under sights

A terrorist was on top of
the tall white water tower
of the military camp
poisoning the drinking water,
or so we thought.

I was on guard as a roaming picket
and the radio cracked
and told me
to get the enemy
on top of the water tower
under sights.

Just more than a section
of other troops on guard
gathered with me
and we spread out
and circled the tower
and hit cover where we could.

For a moment the dark figure
look ominous where he stood
next to the steel ladder
in the darkness of that moonless night.

We were ready to shoot
and were instructed to wait,
just before a spotlight
almost made him jump
over the edge.

There was no terrorist
that looked down at us,
just a military cook
trying to take his own life.

One troop said
“lets help him
and get it over with”
and I could almost
feel him pull the trigger
but like steel my voice said
“stand down”
and a military psychiatrist
got him calm
while troops climbed the tower
and lowered him on a rope
and I wonder to this day
what left that soldier
totally out of hope?

poem by Gert Strydom
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A Gun

A revolver has been blasted and cried for its purpose,
Bullets are boosted into the super still sky, how disastrous!
The guns commit selfish acts due on the day they conceive,
Then they beget and discuss another life, another day to achieve.

A gun is common among the young and dangerous
For they disbelieve in nightmare and dreams: apparatus.
Your gun is safe but thieves perform a stampede
On the young at living, the very youth, the canopied.

When it blasted your hair, it considered a target
On the other side, a man must live by a century
And he is me, the very one who stamped a bullet
In the heart of his enemy, the gods are with ability.

I can not fetch the revolver or the gun,
It is generous I believe, the gun is to be begun.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Roulette

We left the toys out in the yard
I took my wife and kids and left my home unguarded
We packed what we could into the car
No one here knows how it started
But suddenly everything was just so out of control
Now I want some answers, mister, I need to know
I hear all the talk but I dont know what youre sayin
But I think I got a good idea of the game that youre playin
Roulette, thats the name now
Roulette, thats the game now
Roulette, I dont believe what theyre sayin
Roulette, and everybodys playin
I grew up here on this street where nothin moves, just a strange breeze
In a town full of worthless memories theres a shadow in my backyard
Ive got a house full of things that I cant touch
Well all those things they wont do me much good now
I was a fireman out at rikers, I did my job
Mister, Ive been cheated, I feel like Ive been robbed
Im the big expendable, my lifes just canceled, null and void
But what are you gonna do about your new boy
Roulette, youre playin with my life
Roulette, with my kids and my wife
Roulette, every day the stakes get bigger
Roulette, a different finger on the trigger
Down by the river that talks the night speaks in searchlights
And shortwave radio squawk, the police patrol the streets
But Ive left behind the man I used to be, everything he believed in and all that belonged to me
I tried to find my way out to somewhere where I thought itd be safe
They stopped me at the roadblock they put up on the interstate
They put me in detention but I broke loose and then I ran
They said they want to ask me a few questions but I think they had other plans
Now I dont know who to trust and I dont know what I can believe
They say they want to help me but with the stuff they keep on sayin
I think those guys just wanna keep on playin
Roulette, with my life
Roulette, with my kids and my wife
Roulette, the bullets in the chamber
Roulette, whos the unlucky stranger
Roulette, surprise, youre dead
Roulette, the guns to your head
Roulette, the bullets spinning in the chamber
Roulette, pull the trigger, feel the click
No further danger

song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everybody Knows

I got your number right off the wall
Bristol 285 wont you give me a call
Well I was 15 thought I was hot
I didnt know if youd see me or not
And that night as we stepped out
We were hand in hand
But my friends all seemed to know you
I couldnt understand
That everybody knew, everybody knew, they knew your name
But nobody wants nobody wants to play your game
You seemed so shy so all alone-y
Without any hint of ever being phony
But then the little things that came to light
Like the strange hours you worked late at night
And as we laid in your bed that night
You made me feel like a king
Then as I looked into your eyes
I heard that telephone ring
And everybody knows, everybody knows, they know your name
But nobody wants, nobody wants, to play your game
Oh no, they dont want to know your game again
(instrumental)
And everybody knows, everybody knows, they know your name
Nobody wants, nobody wants, to play your game
And everybody knew, everybody knew, they knew your name
But nobody wants nobody wants to play your game
(instrumental to the end...)

song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Football Match Today

I don't know what to do today
as I'm not going to see a game
don't fancy walking around the shops
that just sends me totally insane.
My team are playing away
but I just can't afford to go
so I'll have to do the next best thing
and listen to it on my radio.
But I have run out of bloody batteries
and the shop says they've none in stock
but then just before the game kicked off
I thought I know I've got some in the clock.
So I sat there cheering on the lads
but it just didn't feel the same
I missed the drinking before the match
and being in the ground watching the game.
Anyway the team played really badly
and got hammered six goals to two
sitting there in my living room
feeling depressed and really blue.
So I went off to the local pub
and drowned my sorrows in ale
but I ended up being arrested for being drunk
and spent the night in the local jail.
So in future if I can't afford to go to the match
I think I will find something else to do
take the dog for a very long walk
or get a Saturday job in a shop or a zoo!

poem by Kevin Halls
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Over With A Revolver

It's already over.
Revolver in hand so steady.
Oh my god I'm so ready.
All I can see a bulls eye right above your head.
Trust me when I say your dead.
Snuff out before you even know what's going on.
An absence of all emotion.

Closure too so many traumatic events.
From the mountain into the great valley is the descent.
The weight is so heavy.
Yet I'm still dragging it.
Sooner or latter we all have let it go.
And this time it is all I know.

Such devotion has been through such a roller coaster ride.
An ocean tells me secrets of making a disposal.
Time to get rid of the time when you made your proposal.
An identity I must hide.
Let smoke and mirrors reflect the biggest lie.
An illusion within the eyes.

It's already over.
It's already over.
Oh my god it's already over.
Revolver in hand so steady.
Oh my god I'm so ready.
All I can see a bulls eye right above your head.
Trust me when I say your dead.
Snuff out before you even know what's going on.
An absence of all emotion.

I blame no one.
I blame everyone.
A fault can not be defined by a single event.
An preposterous idea that it was something that you could prevent.
The poison was already in my system.
It spoke in demon tongues.
A evil energy already breathing among the living.
My heart was already gone.

The tears will never fall again.
A mother is cradling a already forgotten grave.
The death to the foolish moth willing to enter flame.
A forsaken child of god is one that does not know he has sinned.
A sentence of unknown hurt and pain.
An experience of the insane.
He sits upon the killing fields with bloody hands.
For him this is no game and it will have no easy ending.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Congress Woman Gabrielle Gifford

1/15/11

Congress woman Gifford shot in the head
By all rights she should have been dead.
But apparently god has plans for her to do
So he laid his hand on her and pulled her through.

With her husband by her side, and in her
sub conscience she heard him cry.
She heard the prayers of a nation when
They heard of this devastation.

She moved a finger, then a hand
Gave a peace sign, and a thumbs up too
It seems she knew exactly what to do.

Now wouldn’t you say this is the work of god
Who is giving her a brand new start?

A lone gunmen with a gun
Shot her And most everyone.
Then a retired military man
Jumped up and grabbed his hand.
Another man grabbed him too.
At that moment he was subdued.

A little girl who was born on that
Fretful day(9/11) took a bullet and passed away.
Christina Taylor green was her name
She died so young, which is a crying shame.

So many lives have been affected that day
And through out the world, people still pray.
They pray for all the survivors and for
The ones who passed away
And there’s not much more that anyone can say.

They say that guns don’t kill
That it is man.

Then it’s time that we take a stand.

Guns can be bought in every city or town
Any where you go, it can be found.
Stop the gun dealers on the streets
And put more cops on the beat.

Teen age gangs are on the rise
We’ve got to do something
We’ve got to try.

poem by Louis Rams
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Gary Speed

Glory came early as did fame.
to Gary Speed there on the pitch.
Cheers he heard from adoring crowds
among the elite he found his niche.
With time’s passage he lost a step
even if he felt the same
but as he ran he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game.

He coached to stay around the game.
After the cheers for him had faded
A friendly face, a familiar name
but as he coached he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game.

For many, Gary was an icon,
a living legend of the game.
They failed to see the mortal man
with silence weighting on his frame
As he tied the rope he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game

poem by John F. McCullagh
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My Last Words

My lifes on time,
But again my sense is late.
Feel a might unsteady,
But still I have to play.
Six to ones the odds,
And, we have the highest stakes.
And, once again I gamble with my very life today.
Highly polished metal,
The oil makes it gleam.
Fill the terror chamber,
Your mind begins to scream.
Your life is like a trigger,
Never trouble till youre squeezed.
Now you crack a smile,
As you give the gun a tease.
Place the piston down,
Now give the gun a spin.
Soon as the spinning stops,
Oh no, the game starts in.
A hateful way of vengeance,
A bit of playful sin.
Load another bullet,
Now the second round begins.
A couple grains of powder,
A couple grams of lead.
A touch against the trigger,
A touch inside the head.
Take another drink, and
Raise the last bets.
Think about my last words,
They might be what I just said.
A click comes from the hammer,
That couldnt drive a nail.
Sense the numbing cold blue,
Or the red of hades grill.
A fraction of a second,
Do you lose, or maybe still,
Pass it to the left,
And collect your mighty kill.
Add another bullet,
The third round begins.
Soon as the spinning stops,
Oh no, the game starts in.
Please, no i.o.u.s,
No markers for death.
Does anybody play? anybody,
Somebody, anybody play.
You, you, next victim, you next to die.
You, you, next victim, you next to die.
You, come on, next victim, your turn to die.
You, come on, next victim, your turn to die.

song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Flyleaf-Cassie(lyrics)

Flyleaf_Cassie(lyrics)

The question asked in order
To save her life or take it
The answer no to avoid death
The answer yes would make it
Make it

Do you believe in God?
Written on a bullet
Say yes to pull the trigger
Do you believe in God?
Written on a bullet
And Cassie pulled the trigger

All heads are bowed in silence
To remember her last sentence
She answered him knowing what would happen
Her last words still hanging in the air
In the air

Do you believe in God?
Written on a bullet
Say yes to pull the trigger
Do you believe in God?
Written on a bullet
And Rachael pulled the trigger

How many will die
I will die
I, I will say yes

And Cassie pulled the trigger

Do you believe in God?
Written on the bullet
And Rachael pulled the trigger
Do you believe in God?
Written on the bullet
And Cassie pulled the trigger

Do you believe in God?
Do you believe in God?
Do you believe in God?
And I will pull the trigger

poem by Alexandria Rios
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Still The Same

Words and music by bob seger
You always won, everytime you placed a bet
Youre still damn good, no ones gotten to you yet
Everytime they were sure they had you caught
You were quicker than they thought
Youd just turn your back and walk
You always said, the cards would never do you wrong
The trick you said was never piay the game too long
A gamblers share, the only risk that you would take
The only loss you could forsake
The only bluff you couldnt fake
And youre still the same
I caught up with you yesterday
Moving game to game
No one standing in your way
Turning on the charm
Long enough to get you by
Youre still the same
You still aim high
There you stood, everybody watched you play
I just turned and walked away
I had nothing left to say
cause youre still the same
Youre still the same
Moving game to game
Some thlngs never change
Youre still the same

song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Soldier Blue

A soldier blue once walked past me
With flag and gun for all to see
Shouts i hurrah for you are brave
Our King and country you will save

But as he marched i noticed that
Beneath his hardened soldiers hat
An empty stare that held the thought
Of all the horrors battle brought

He marched a line so straight and true
With comrades also dressed in blue
A sense of pride we all could feel
As on they marched from toe to heel

But as they disappeared from view
Their colours flying proud and true
Thought i of soldier blue once more
His stare that told the truth of war.

poem by Dave James
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Evil Against The Good

The game unquestionably harsh
Started the day we were born
Out of me God created the best
Out of me evil wants
To recreate the worst
An infant between life and death
Not yet time to escape by losing breath
The game just began for the young one

The game unquestionably harsh
Dark streets and rough childhood
Experience of an adverse neighborhood
Got him trapped under the belly of the beast
Evil encounters sinking in the young head
Thoughts of the good lad decaying
The game heading for the climax

The game unquestionably harsh
Thought I would be good forever
Evil troops changed me for a sinner
Got addicted to the harmful world
Young days of ours full of madness
Got my own demons and so fearless
The game has ambushed us under stress

The game unquestionably harsh
Work of the young man is to daydream
Run the best imaginary world as possible
Managing mind tries the impossible
Fantasy world will never be reality
Perhaps the dream just a prophesy
The game plays tricks in the young mind

The game unquestionably harsh
It is play on the day we are born
Even before us it was playing
As we see more days we get played
Evil rules the planet earth
Good rules the purest heaven
The game is on until the end of times.

***The Book of End of Times

poem by Young Church
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Deck Of Cards

a deck of cards
missing the Jack of Hearts....
a revolver on the table,

one chamber empty...
an old family Bible,
the inscription page torn out...

a broken pane in the window
that the sun never hits.
a bottle of whiskey,

half empty, or half full.
an old rug by the chair,
that the dog slept on.

a grandfather clock,
hand stuck at midnight...
an old truck, broken axle....

a deck of cards...
your deal!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Russian Roulette

This theme is known quite well.
Our love story was like a Russian roulette.
I would never bet or foretell
If I had to bite a bullet.

My heart sang beautiful song,
I could fly high in the sky,
Wrote poems for the one I belong,
Didn’t think of the day I die.

He insisted on changing the rules of the game,
I ran away from the unnecessary risk,
Love forever I wanted to proclaim,
But he showed me only a big fist.

I wished him to be my husband,
He wished to use me as a toy.
I haven’t seen the foggy England,
I thought about life I would enjoy.

My heart was so gentle,
I couldn’t recognize a flirt.
The cylinder was near my temple,
But…there was no bullet in it.

LIFE GOES ON!
I SING A NEW SONG!

Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
24/9 2010

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Russian Roulette

Take it or leave it Ive heard it been said
All this spring fevers just way over my head
Stealing my moments, taking up all my time
Its playing russian roulette with my mind
Its none of my business baby just whats going on
Im not going to wait till somebody throw me a bone
Im way out on a limb now, and nothing seems to rhyme
Its playing russian roulette with my mind
I think that youve caught on, that youve been used and all
Im going down new orleans, Ive got to see dr. john
Got my mojo working everything will be fine
Stop playing russian roulette with my mind
Its not easy baby when everything starts getting out of control
Hang on your hat now, hang on to your soul
Dont worry baby, I wanna throw you the line
Theyre playing russian roulette with your mind
Too many hustlers, Ive been here before
None of them really know just who that you are
Everything gets contracted and space gets confined
Theyre playing russian roulette with your mind
Theyre playing russian roulette
Theyre playing russian roulette
Theyre playing russian roulette with your mind
Theyre playing russian roulette
Theyre playing russian roulette
Theyre playing russian roulette with your mind

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At the Okavango swamp

It was in the Okavango swamp
that the dark ghoul came at night
and passed so near
that I could smell its stinking breath.

Every morning the four-toed tracks
lay in the sand
everywhere in the camp
where it came to break into
what ever it could find.

With powerful jaws and premolars
made for crushing bones
it gnawed into anything
that it could lay jaws on.

Till one night that the dog like
brown-grey carnivore
with black spots
got a shocking surprise
and I saw yellow eyes glowing
while it draw closer and closer
while crying
like a hysterical human laughing

and walked straight into
an electrified wire
fitted to a couple of landrover
and four by four batteries
running around the camp
and blue white sparks flew
and covered that hyena

like a character
in a computer game
it was covered in lightning
and it howled and howled
rising in pitch
and never came back again.

poem by Gert Strydom
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While on weekend pass

In 1988 when I was called up
for a military camp, to go to war
while doing duty in the operational aria
I got a lift with the Flossie (the mail plane) ,
to Waterkloof air force base
for a quick weekend pass,

and brought my kit
and sub-machinegun along
visited my fiancée,
got the key of her apartment
from the caretaker who was very patriotic
and waited in the apartment
as a surprise to her
when she got home from work

and took a quick shower
just after arriving, to be fresh and neat
and when I closed the tap
I heard somebody walking
around in the flat,
but immediately realized
that it wasn’t her
and thought that a intruder,
a thief or someone like that
had entered and that I would be able to
catch that person red handed

and only wrapped in a towel
around my hips, sneaked out to the bedroom
grabbed the R5 sub-machinegun
and rushed into the lounge
where I pointed the gun
threatening on the new maid.

Sufficing to say that on her very first day
she saw me armed with the military rifle,
gave one big yell,
ran out of the door screaming blue murder
and never was seen again.

poem by Gert Strydom
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

The gamblers

Related quotes

Ballade of the guard commander

Under sights

A Gun

Roulette

Everybody Knows

No Football Match Today

Over With A Revolver

Congress Woman Gabrielle Gifford

Gary Speed

My Last Words

Trench charge

Flyleaf-Cassie(lyrics)

Still The Same

A Soldier Blue

Evil Against The Good

Deck Of Cards

Russian Roulette

Russian Roulette

At the Okavango swamp

While on weekend pass

En.Citatepedia^®.ro