En.Citatepedia^®.ro

It's As If Insanity Is Intended

As long as the beatings seem to defeat,
They will be treated with signs of support.
And a feeling of camaraderie expressed.
Not to be aborted,
Or left to stress in distress.

And if a bloodied victory is obtained,
An elevation of goodwill is fostered and maintained.
But if rivels begin to attack.
And take advantage of that.
A boastering ceases in grief.
Until a declaration to defend comes to mask a weakness...
Competitors pretend with a fight to the bitter end.

'We are not accustomed to having our turf tampered.'
These words heard seem so out of place.

Is that the reason why filth remains on our inner city streets?
With empty souls,
Lost without those cheers wished.
That pamper, soothe and strengthen.
To over come those losses felt so deep?

~Those soldiers 'must' feel so discouraged! ~

Soldiers? What soldiers?
Oh!
Yeah.
But...
I am referring to those gang members,
Fighting one another.
As if their ignorance makes a difference,
To the declining quality of life.
Experienced by their fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers.

~What are the value of these wars being fought?
And for what reasons?
I am totally not understanding these conflicts.
And the purpose achieved by the display of such sickness!
It's as if insanity is intended.
At the cost of all of our expenses...
Literally! ~

I think you have a point.
But who not craving the taste for blood,
Is going to be satisfied enough to comprehend it?
The rare steak lovers?
Or the 'bling' bangers?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The soldiers fought

The soldiers fought a fight, and went for us,

They went not thinking of themselves, and no fuss;

Some were injured. Yet in such agony they fought,

And some carried back to safety, while the enemy was sought.

Those soldiers were so very brave, fighting in our place,

Marching altogether, In order and without grace;

They never knew if they'd get back home at all,

All they did was fighting to win, the problem wasn't small.

And a lot of those brave soldiers, lost arms and legs, it's so,

But some very brave soldiers, where they died we don't know;

And this is why the legacy, we remember them, at set of sun,

And thank all these brave soldiers, for the good that was done.

poem by Margaret Haig
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Soldiers

soldiers, soldiers,
marching in dead time.
ghouls without faces,
in mechanical rhyme.

paid for, paid off,
eyes open and blind.
hearts severed from the soul,
soul severed from the mind.

gunfire, racism,
treat women like a toy.
grown men without mothers,
fathers, just boys.

gang bangers, pimp daddies,
kings of purgatory.
bad drugs, bad days,
and nights without joy.

cant pay the rent, get a job,
and prison becomes their school.
no hope for nothing more than nothing,
trapped by the have not rules....

soldiers, soldiers.
pawns in the rich man's game.
victims of unholy anger,
and gods that have no name!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Every Soldier Has A Dream

After a war a soldier sometimes has to cry as dreams of those memories waters in the eye.

It's very sad when this world of ours goes to war.
Peace is the thing that soldiers have fought and died for.

With hands held in the air a soldier cries a bit but people are blind to dreams that do not fit.

Some people abuse this world but one day they'll find that they've lost their battlefields and they are unklind.

Lost battlefields and dreams with no victories won, following the forgotten hero.
Here they come.

They bury the dream because they cannot recall what it was that made the Soldier stand proud and tall.

Soldiers come from all walks of life.
Sisters.
Brothers.
Soldiers with many dreams seldom shared with others.

Soldiers who had loved ones and families back home.
Some soldiers are just children
and still on their own.

Honoured I feel to remember soldiers this way.
I salute them have I your attention I say.

Stand at ease,
fall out.
Sir nobody knew his name.
Dear God you know who he was our dream was the same.

Undaunted was the soldier in the face of fear.
No turning back.
Each soldier shed a silent tear.

But I wonder why no one hears the soldiers cry.
Listen today as soldiers go to fight and die .

Try to imagine the soldiers forgotten dream.
Keep the memory of what the Soldier
had been.

It haunts us today and remains here in our time.
Ghosts with forgotten dreams remain.
Its such a crime.

What the soldier fought for is what we must redeem,
as we look back and try to recapture the dream.

The ship's sunk and they say,
we're glad we missed the cruise.
Don't take for granted things in life we shouldn't loose.

When the battle is over and the dreams don't sit.
Every soldier must cry just a little bit.

By Paul McCann

poem by Paul McCann
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Let's Remember Those Soldiers

Let's remember those soldiers
No matter alive or dead
Hold them dear to our hearts
And keep their memories in our heads

Let's remember those soldiers
As they fight on foreign lands
And pray they make it back home
Because it is all up to Gods hands

Let's remember those soldiers
And the hell they are going through
Praise them when they get home
For all they've done for me and you

Let's remember those soldiers
And their families they left behind
Should you know some of these families
Try and treat them a little more kind

Let's remember those soldiers
They are fighting for our rights
Before you go to sleep tonight
Say a prayer for them tonight

Let's remember those soldiers
And let them know that we care
But for the grace of God
We might be the ones over there

Let's remember those soldiers
And let's wish them all the best
May they all make it back home
So we all can get some rest

Let's remember those soldiers
Even ones from wars of the past
Though some are dead and gone
Let's make sure their memories last

Let's remember those soldiers
And docs and nurses in those camps
Taking care of the wounded
Let's put their faces on postage stamps

Let's remember those soldiers
And not just count them as a loss
For they are truely the ones
That pay the ultimate cost

wrote 3/7/2008 by Norman Hale Jr.

poem by Norman Hale
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Our Veterans of Fought Wars

Those who profess to be patriotic.
And sway hypnotically,
In both praise and song.
Yet allow their soldiers...
To lay homelessly in their streets.
With lost dignities and no food to eat.
Day and night long!
Sickens me with their high brow hypocrisies.
When our veterans of fought wars...
Are treated as if poison,
Oozes from their pores.

With many of them still left abandoned.
To fight and struggle in danger.
On foreign shores ignored.

And I hear the voices scream,
About their liberties being demeaned.
With their marketed decadence,
On the top of their lists.
Upholding interests of greed.
Denied to those who died and still bleed.
To keep them and their democracy...
Entertained and irresponsibly freed.

Dedicated:
To our military veterans.
Especially those still fighting for their rights,
After fighting in Viet Nam.
And those conflicts today that continue on!
My heart goes out to you.
~LSP~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Want to be a Soldier

I will be a soldier
Only when soldiers realize
They are not animals or
cattles
Only if soldiers can ask
'Why should I shoot that
innocent man? '
I would be a soldier
If soldiers can ask the
commander
'Why should we shoot at
the children? '
I would be a soldier
If soldiers know that
The red blood that runs
through their veins
Runs in the rest peopl's too.
I would be a soldier if
Soldiers know they aren't
what they ask them to be
When they know that
The Emperor will never ask
them to kill his children
I would be a soldier
When soldiers realize war
is inhuman
When soldiers know war
always starts war
When they know that
World peace can not be
reached through war
When United Nations can
ask themselves
Is war the only way to end
corruption in the globe?
When soldiers know the
distance between peace and
war.
When soldiers realize how
intoxicative the gun is.
When soldiers realize
that gun does not control
them, but they control it.
I would be a soldier only if
soldiers know
why Martin Luther King jnr.
was killed.
If they know Adolf Hitler
also tried to make peace
through war.
I would be a soldier
If they can tell me why they
are only trained to kill.
I would be a soldier if
soldier can say
NO TO BRUTE LEADERS.
I would be a soldier if
soldiers know
the difference between
death and birth.
I would be a soldier if they
can tell
Why they are weapons of
destruction?
If they can explain why they
killed at Vietnam?
Why they killed at Somalia?
Why Ghadafi was killed
without trial?
Why Abraham Lincoln was
shot
Why Ghandi was killed,
Why they dont care if they
die in war in the name of
peace.
I would be a soldier If soldiers know they have rights If soldiers know they need Freedom. I would be a soldier If the goverments around the world realize How wonderful the world would be If the money invests in atomic weapons can be spent To feed billions of children on the streets of India, Nigeria, Brazil, South Africa The United States and all the streets of the World. I would be a soldier when soldiers can fight for liberty And not for slavery When soldiers know that nobody should think for them When soldiers know they are humans not cattles, When they realize that nobody should tell them what to think and what to feel. If soldiers can be humans, I would be a soldier.

poem by Idris Adesina
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Soldier (not really a poem)

the american revolution was fought witha new breed of soldier.
this country was founded on that soldier.
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines calls the coward
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines call when they need help
because these soldiers dont miss.
these soldiers are trained harder than the most elite frontline man
these soldiers are tought to kill their enemy before there enemy sees them.
these soldiers are the ghosts in the night,
these soldiers are the wind in the day
these soldiers are everywhere.
these soldiers are the bush next to u.
these soldiers are the the tree across the field.
these soldiers are the lump of snow in the flat plain.
these soldiers are snipers.
snipers are the reason we are free.
snipers stop the enemy before the enemy gets close to u,

poem by Joshua Decker
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World Wars

Soldiers Fight. Enemies Fight Back
World Wars Come To An End.
The Loved Ones Go And Fight For They're People.
They Shall Fight For Land
They Shall Fight For Glory
They Fight For The People That Live.
They Shall Not Let Anyone Down
They Must Do Much As They Can.
The Soldiers Fight.
The Soldiers Protect.
Once One Soldier Dies, Others Soldiers Die
they must bring peace to the land they protect.
We Remember The People Who Went To War.
Some Of The Families Lost A Member In War.
Some Of The Families Didn't Lost A Member In War.
In War, It's Hard To Survive In War.
You Gotta Be Strong And Brave.
The War Is All About The People We Care About And Keeping Enemies Away.

poem by Sonya Wesley
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Wildest Dreams

They decorated all the generals
Who fought the wars behind the lines
They had forgotten all the soldiers
The brandy put them way behind the times
Insanity has found its way to tv screens
Vision seems impossible to me
They fight {they fight} for king {for king} and country
I never would have thought this in my
{chorus}
Wildest dreams
Wildest dreams
Wildest dreams
Wildest dreams
The evening comes, we sit and watch the vjs
Clips and rushes come from who knows where
From washington across to california
With fighting breaking out in leicester square
We see the soldiers moving on to victory
And children trampled under marching feet
They fight {they fight} for king {for king} and country
How many millions will they put to sleep?
{chorus}
Fly away...
No, not in this world
No, not in the next
No, not in my wildest dreams
They recommended euthanasia
For non-conformists anywhere
Some mens dreams for others turn to nightmares
This never would have happened in my
{chorus}
Fly away...
No, not in this world
No, not in the next
No, not in my wildest dreams...

song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A war song!

I see the soldiers marching on
Singing a cold war song
On the road they hold onto their guns
As the fighting goes on all day long

Fight, March, and fight
Shoot, aim and shoot right
Whether the sun shines, this is war
This is war whether the rains pours

This is war where we kill
Our friends, sisters and brothers
For they are our enemies for real
If they choose against us for another

They go to war
Because of a handful of political men
Who stand alive; in erect offices still holding their pens
The soldiers fight until no one stands up anymore!

Fight, March, and fight
Shoot, aim and shoot right
Whether the sun shines, this is war
This is war whether the rains pours

www.sylviachidi.com

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The Little Homes

We have heard the cheering, brothers,
We have heard the martial peal;
We have seen the soldiers marching
And the glint of sun and steel.
We have heard the songs, the shouting;
But, while forth the soldier roams,
Who has heard the weeping, brothers,
In the Little Homes?

We have seen the gay processions
And the careless, laughing crowds.;
We have seen the banners waving
Out against the peaceful clouds;
Yet, while colors proudly flutter
Over noble spires and domes,
Who has seen the mourning, brothers,
In the Little Homes?

From the Little Homes that nestle
Where the smiling fields sweep wide,
From the Little Homes that huddle
In the city, side by side,
They have called the eager fighters
Men who went with smiles and cheers;
Pride of wives and pride of mothers,
Choking back the tears!

Women of the little homesteads,
Women of the city slums,
They are waiting, ever waiting;
And the sound of muffled drums
In some stricken Home is echoed,
Where grey Grief is guest to-day.
And to-morrow? Nay, the others
Still must wait - and pray.

What the Little Homes shall suffer,
What the Little Homes shall pay
Must be more than sturdy fighters,
More than women's grief to-day.
In the years that follow after,
Be our battles won or lost,
In the Little Homes, my brothers,
They shall pay the cost.

They shall pay the cost of glory,
They shall pay the price of peace,
Years and many long years after
All the sounds of battle cease.
When the sword is sheathed - or broken
When the battle flag is furled,
Still the Little Homes must suffer
Over all the World.

Have you seen the old grey mothers
Smiling to the ringing cheers?
Have you seen the young wives striving
Bravely to hold back the tears?
Have you seen the young girl marching
By her soldier-lover's side?
Have you, seen our country's women
All aglow with pride?

Then, shall we think shame, my brothers,
To give thanks upon our knees
That the land we love should hold them
Wives and mothers such as these?
Women who still hide their sorrow
As their soldiers march away,
Turning brave and steadfast faces
To the light of day?

Oh, the Little Homes are Cheerful
Little Homes that know no pride
But the pride of sacrificing
Loved ones to the battle tide!
They are many, many brothers,
And their sacrifice is great.
Shrines are they and sacred places,
Where the women wait.

Aye, the Little Homes are holy
At the closing of the day,
When young wives must face their sorrow,
When grey mothers kneel to pray,
Facing, all alone, dread visions
Of the land the soldier roams,
Then God heed the sobbing, brothers,
In the Little Homes.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Ode to the American Soldiers

Ode to the American Soldiers
for fighting for our Freedom
for making this day real
Ode to the American soldiers
Iraq, Afghanistan, countries galore
they risk their lives for ours
Support them, pray for them
Ode to the American Soldiers

poem by Ashton Karen
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Faces of war

I've been in war twice, and it is not pretty or nice
men and women put the uniforme on and it symoblizes strength
carrying all your gear and weapon not knowing when to pull the trigger
you're fighting with son or daughter of parents they love dearly
keep yourself and your follow soldiers alive and you must fight fiercely
blood will shed and bodies all laying every-where dead
at war noone wins, for God says thu shall not kill
countries send soldier to defend, and whatever the cost and at will
the pain and sorrow that brings to so many, the leaders have no clue
you are a number and expendable, soldier stick togother like glue
soldiers return with missing limb and undetected serious illness
soldier puts his/her life on the line at time kills, we need no forgiveness
at what cost, as we all know freedom is not free
we must do whatever it take, so we can be a free country
give thanks to a person in uniform, cause we're fighting for you
don't take anything lightly, a soldier does what a soldier need to do

poem by Michael Neguse
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In Angola

In Angola I wondered
how the land of the free
had the power,
to launch soldiers
from another country
into the arms of eternity.

How could
the sly foxes of the CIA
find a way,
to sway
a country into it’s war.

What fools
had the politicians
of my country become,
to rise and let boys
of eighteen bare the brunt
for the most unpopular war.

Although the victory
was sound
more was lost than gained
and coming back from war,
I will never be free
from the demons
that torment me.

War kills hope and joy
and leave it’s scars
in every soldiers soul
and the innocent
pays the highest price.

From history
and into posterity
the USA does not
fight it’s wars alone
and at times
let others pay the toll.

In Afghanistan and Iraq
some allied soldiers
still fall and die...

poem by Gert Strydom
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A War Raging On

There's a war raging on
Though I know not where
There are people fighting
Though they do not care
Soldiers are fighting
Mothers are crying
Fathers are preaching
For their sons are dying,
For their is a war killing
And no one really cares.

There's bullets shooting
As I see the guns loading
And there's planes flying
For I feel the bombs exploding,
I see war and I see blood
And death upon the sand
There's hunger and death
I still see in His hand,
For there's people killing
As I see the blood flowing.

There's soldiers marching
For I hear them coming
The killing is flowing
For I see the children running,
There are people being shot
Poets getting caught
Murderers being sought
Lessons again being taught,
For there is a war raging
As the soldiers are hunting.

There is a war coming
For I hear the horns blowing
There is more killing coming
For I see the hate growing,
Children are getting killed
Burying bombs in the fields
Land is being destroyed
Mountains are becoming hills,
For there is a war coming
For I see the hate showing.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Some Mothers Son

Some mothers son lies in a field
Someone has killed some mothers son today
Head blown up by some soldiers gun
While all the mothers stand and wait
Some mothers son aint coming home today
Some mothers son aint got no grave
Two soldiers fighting in a trench
One soldier glances up to see the sun
And dreams of games he played when he was young
And then his friend calls out his name
It stops his dream and as he turns his head
A second later he is dead
Some mothers son lies in a field
Back home they put his picture in a frame
But all dead soldiers look the same
While all the parents stand and wait
To meet their children coming home from school
Some mothers son is lying dead
Somewhere someone is crying
Someone is trying to be so brave
But still the world keeps turning
Though all the children have gone away
Some mothers son lies in a field
But in his mothers eyes he looks the same
As on the day he went away
They put his picture on the wall
They put flowers in the picture frame
Some mothers memory remains

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Real Victory

The Real Victory

Victory and defeat in war,
Are the childish justifications.
Colour not your hands,
With the precious substance of Man.
Whether you nourish your mind,
With the elating thought of victory,
Or loathe with a despising thought of defeat,
You kill fathers, brothers and sons,
You kill mothers, sisters and daughters,
Even the infants sleeping in cradles,
You kill them with their innocent dreams,
They hardly know the self-made conflicts,
Flourishing, booming in the world.

Discard devices that you carry in hands,
And think awhile
Whether you kill or you are killed,
You fight against humanity,
You fight against the divine laws,
You fight against the Kingdom of God.

Apply your strength if indispensable,
Lance eyes of the Shark of Ignorance,
Stifle; choke the Demons of Illness,
Wrench neck of the Ghost of Hunger,
Break teeth of the Vampire of Poverty,
By connecting the hearts of humanity,
With the bonds of trust, faith and love.

For the sake of oil and reserves,
Make not the world a mess.
If you intend to defeat the rivals,
Defeat them in the race of good deeds,
Yes, defeat them in the race of good deeds,
You know not the real victory you may get,
But without bloodshed and with out making,
The world a storehouse of weapons.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Soldiers

(I just got one question:Where my soldiers at?)
V1:(I see you watchin' me.) Yeah ya know I'm on it.
(See how I'm livin') You know I'm too strong. (All they throw at me)
I'm not fallin' for it. (They think I'm alone)They got it all wrong.
PC:Everybody on the left, and everybody on the right, who's not scared to testify.
(Willing to testify)Gotta let the world know it, that ya not afraid to show it, if ya not
afraid to show it let me hear ya tonight. (Cmon!)
Chorus:All my people in the place, ya lookin' good with style n grace, but here's my
question listen clear:Where my soldiers? (RIGHT HERE!!) Say hey...(HEY!!). If you know
you keep it tight say hey!.......(HEY!!) Where my soldiers at? (RIGHT HERE!!)
V2:(World's watchin' you)Whatcha gonna do now?(Will you make a move?)Will ya show and
prove?(You know that ya do)Gotta represent!(The life that we've been given, the reason why
we're livin' so....
PC, Chorus1X
Well you know..there's a reason..(there's a reason)..we're here to..(here to change)...to change the
world, and you know I belive it....(I believe it)...we can do it, but it's up to you. The request of The Maker
of the ocean and the sky so blue is to call up some soldiers...so if you're not afraid to take a stand then
let me see you raise you hands!!!
Chorus 3X

song performed by by Out Of Eden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hush'd Be The Camps To-day

HUSH'D be the camps to-day;
And, soldiers, let us drape our war-worn weapons;
And each with musing soul retire, to celebrate,
Our dear commander's death.

No more for him life's stormy conflicts;
Nor victory, nor defeat--no more time's dark events,
Charging like ceaseless clouds across the sky.

But sing, poet, in our name;
Sing of the love we bore him--because you, dweller in camps, know it
truly.

As they invault the coffin there; 10
Sing--as they close the doors of earth upon him--one verse,
For the heavy hearts of soldiers.

poem by Walt Whitman
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The Two Brave Soldiers

Air -- "The Texas Rangers"

My friends, I pray you listen,
A story I will tell;
It's of two noble soldiers,
And they were known full well;
They were killed in the rebellion,
As you shall plainly hear,
Those brave and noble soldiers,
No danger did they fear.

They enlisted in Grand Rapids,
In eighteen and sixty-two,
'Twas in the month of August,
About the middle, too;
These two brave, noble soldiers,
They joined the cavalry;
They fought to save their country,
United it yet may be.

One of them, a single man,
His name was Martin House;
The other one was married,
His name I'll tell you now.
Abram Bishop was his name;
He was a christian man;
Two soldiers, they were brave, and
They hailed from Michigan.

When they left their native place,
Their friends to them did say;
"Oh! do not go to war boys,
You'd better with us stay;
For if you join the army,
You never will return
To all your friends that love you,
You never will return."

Young House spoke unto his friends:
"I'd rather go," said he,
"I have no wife and children
To weep and mourn for me.
I hear my country calling
For her sons of liberty,
And I, for one must go, friends,
A coward I cannot be."

"We are not afraid of fighting
The rebels, no, not we;
They're bound to make our country
A place for slaves to be.
Our fathers fought before us,
To gain our liberty,
And we, the sons of freemen,
Must fight to keep it free."

"Farewell, farewell to all our friends
That we may leave behind,
If we do never return,
We pray you bear in mind,
If God sees fit to call us,
We are not afraid to die;
Our country, she is calling,
We must bid you all good bye."

It was in Old Virginia,
Those noble soldiers fell,
In the battle of Hanover town,
As many a man can tell.
They fought through many battles,
Obeyed their captain's call,
Alas! the missles struck them,
And caused them both to fall.

poem by Julia A Moore
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