0272 Somme Day
Looks like being a fine day; how red
the poppies in the sunlight.
The whistles blow.
From the now almost home of the slit trench
Over the Top, boys! This is it!
Soon back. The slit trench
is blessedly quieter now
in its six feet.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
These Men
Men moving in a trench, in the clear noon,
Whetting their steel within the crumbling earth;
Men, moving in a trench ‘neath a new moon
That smiles with a slit mouth and has no mirth;
Men moving in a trench in the grey morn,
Lifting bodies on their clotted frames:
Men with narrow mouths thin-carved in scorn
That twist and fumble strangely at dead names.
These men know life – know death a little more.
These men see paths and ends, and see
Beyond some swinging open door
Into eternity.
poem by Leon Gellert
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The Little Slit in the Tail
I’M GLAD that the Bushmen can’t see me now
A-doing it tall in the town;
I’ve an inch-brimmed hat on my sun-burnt brow—
And my collar jumps up and down.
I’m wearing a vest that would charm a snake,
And a tie like a lost soul’s wail;
And I’m dressed in a coat of the latest make,
With a little slit in the tail:
With a little slit in the tail of it,
With a little slit in the tail.
My pants alone are a thing of joy,
And they’re built to show my bends,
With a crease behind and a crease before,
And a little curl in the ends.
I carry my nose-rag in my cuff,
And the lot should get me gaol—
I paid five guineas for my rig-out,
And one for the slit in the tail:
For the little slit in the tail of it,
For the little slit in the tail.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Hate and pain, feelin’ it in my veins.
Hate and pain etched in my mind.
Love and hate are all the same,
Life and death are all our problems, but you treat them as there mine.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death are all the same in my mind.
Life and death are all the same,
Play with fire and get burned.
Accusations flying my way, will they ever stop?
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Life and death are all the same.
Life and death, when will it end?
Anger and frustration all boiling to the top.
Vengeance and Violence seems to be the only way.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, is it my turn yet?
Death is living again.
Death is bliss I will never discover.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, a new fire is born.
Death is an eternal fire being blown out.
Death is being free from the shackles of life.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, it’s our destiny.
Death is the only escape.
Death is the forth stomach of a cow.
By Ariel Morris.
poem by Ariel Morris
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Life And Feeling
like a soldier im in war
my enamy is life and feeling
the hole i dug next to my trench
is where i shall lye my feelings
and lye myself in the end of the battle
i took shots at life and feeling
my whole exsistance
the battle i am loseing
crouched in my trench
as rain, tears and pain are falling
heavily drenching me
my scars lay up my arms
showing where my blades have slit
life and feelin take another effective shot at me
hitting me in the hearts
i am bleeding bad but i wont give up the war
till the enamys are difeated
the wounds are bleeding as so much pain fills me up inside
i am fearless of the battle and fait i may suffer i am alone
with only myself fighting with all my might
i hate to tell myself i am loseing
but i dont know if i can win im dying to quick
poem by Sandy Vanity
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Slit My throat
Tears are stained
against my cheeks
blood is gashed agaisnt the walls
all i have to say is slit my throat and lay me to sleep
I want out of this crule harsh world
everyone is mean to me
they hurt me
beat me
and make fun of me
Most of the time though
they end up hurting me
so as i cry out into the night
i want my last words to be
slit my throat and lay me to sleep
Lay me to sleep,
killme,
murder me,
do something, but if you do
slit my throat first
an lay me to sleep in a grave
poem by Dominique Lange
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The Trench
It was once assumed
We stood at the same spot
By and by
The earth caved in
Surreptitiously
And there emerged
A widening trench
We now stand
A trench apart
The trench patiently gathers
All the emotions slipped into it
In the nights it sings
To wake me up
The open space echoes
With the ballads sung
To bring a smile or two
On my damp cheeks…
Wipes away my cheek
As it goes on singing
All that it gathers
From the passers-by
I smile
But somehow
There’s some difference!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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In the Trenches
I snatched two poppies
From the parapet’s ledge,
Two bright red poppies
That winked on the ledge.
Behind my ear
I stuck one through,
One blood red poppy
I gave to you.
The sandbags narrowed
And screwed out our jest,
And tore the poppy
You had on your breast ...
Down - a shell - O! Christ,
I am choked ... safe ... dust blind, I
See trench floor poppies
Strewn. Smashed you lie.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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Thanks A Lot
Its all in your mind she said
The darkness and the light
The clock it bleeds for you
But you never got the time in right
I woke you up
And I slit the throat of your confidence
And we laughed in the night
And I felt all right
All hands on deck boys
Cause this ship was made to sink
Your swabber salutes you now
But I know what hes thinking
I woke you up
And I slit the throat of your confidence
And we laughed in the night
And I felt all right
Thanks a lot
Thanks a lot
Thanks a lot
The clothes she wears mis-fit
And shes nervous when she speaks
Her zombie mom and dad
Live in a separate house of freaks
I woke you up
And I slit the throat of your confidence
And we laughed in the night
And I felt all right
Thanks a lot
Thanks a lot
Thanks a lot
Im the one for you
Cause I know all the dirty things youd like to do
Im the fear in your eyes
Im the fire in your flies
Im the sound thats buzzing around your head
Thanks a lot
Thanks a lot
Thanks a lot
Thanks a lot
song performed by by Third Eye Blind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Up Scoble
Scobble for whoredom whips his wife and cries
He'll slit her nose; but blubbering she replies,
"Good sir, make no more cuts i' th' outward skin,
One slit's enough to let adultery in.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Ha Ha Ha Happy Family
See see Papa Trench Bottom
dig in the mines happily, laugh ha ha happily
and drink at night and hear him
snore before the day
happy happy Papa Trench Bottom
he he he he he ha ha happy happy
at home and at work
See see Mama Big Bottom
she she she he he ha ha happy
Dance happily Cook with joy
toss with levity
and puts dishes aplenty on the table
for all in the family to eat and be merry
See see Teenage Tough Dude
he he he happily walks in the streets
Cool at school
Very Pop with the babes
and eating lots at home, with gravity
very serious in look, sparse in his words
but loves his mom, dad and sis
deep deep within, ha ha happily happily
Happy Happy Teenage Cool Dude
And see Sister Barbie Doll Pretty
Curls and dimples and cute smiles all
Happy hours in the ha ha bathroom
many more hours texting and chatting
and lots and lots of FaceTime
Happy happy walking sexy
all the way to work
and chirping all day like a Paradise Bird
at work at the Rainbow Fast Food Outlet
happy happy talking talking all workday
Ah See Happy happy he he he
she she she happy happy Family
Trench Bottom family he he he
and she she she all day and night
Happy happy Trench Bottoms
Happy happy he he ha ha Happy Family always
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Blow By Blow
Written by dave mason, john cesario, and mark holden.
Its always something
Or it aint nothing at all
Its feast or famine
Too hot or out in the cold
So here we stand
Alone together
Our backs against the wall
If my heart wasnt in it
I wouldnt be here at all
Blow by blow
Well its blow by blow
And here we go again
(here we go again)
Well its blow by blow
Coming off the ropes
And fighting for the hope in us all
Are you in my corner
Or playing both sides of the wall
So make a stand
Its now or never
Cause life is much too short
And if your heart isnt in it
You shouldnt be here at all
Blow by blow
Well its blow by blow
And here we go again
(here we go again)
Well its blow by blow
Blow by blow
Well its blow by blow
Im back on my feet again
(Im back on my feet again)
Well its blow by blow
I can almost see through the tears
And Ive got my pride
The dreams that Ive hidden for years
Just wont be denied
So here we stand
Alone together
Our backs against the wall
If my heart wasnt in it
I wouldnt be here at all
Blow by blow
Well its blow by blow
And here we go again
(here we go again)
Well its blow by blow
Blow by blow
Well its blow by blow
Im back on my feet again
(Im back on my feet again)
Well its blow by blow
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grey Lady Of The Sea
(lebon)
Youve whispered out loud
But your breeze doesnt bend
Were lying in the palm of your hand
No land we see, no place to be
The salt of your tears, adds stain to our hearts
Theres no long years can tear us apart
Our futures entwined with your past
Because when we lie awake
Well be thinking of you
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Bravado is all but gone
And patience is down
You scared us and youve turned us around
But you wont let us drown
Because when we lie asleep
Well be dreaming of you
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
So answer us when we call
And say if you think were old
When life is so short we can stay long
But youll never be alone
Because one day well return
Well be waiting for you
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snow Is On The Rise Boys
Snow is on the rise boys,
Falling down again,
Dark’s the blood of politics,
Sprayed around the Bren.
Snow is on the rise boys,
Backward to the sky,
Young lives steel, but mettle bends,
As buddies start to die.
Snow is on the rise boys,
Trench foot plods his time,
Blown to smithereens dear,
On the Siegfried line.
Snow is on the rise boys,
Bellowing some thrill,
Never dreamt of Tumbledown,
Hopping up a hill.
Snow is on the rise boys,
Cool as whitened green,
Pray tomorrow’s sun alights,
On that frozen scream.
poem by Jerry Pike
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Song To Slit Your Wrists By
Distortion
Out of phase
Washes over my sour face
My life is through
Guess I owe it all to you
Check me out
You left me wonderin
What Im about
You suck me dry
Then you spit me out
Theres still one thing
I can do
So I wrote this tune just for you
This songs to slit
Your wrist by
This song might have a twist
This songs to slit
Your wrist by
This songs my goodbye kiss
Black tears
Run down
My face
Check out the clown
Dont think Im through
Ill just keep writing my tunes for you
(chorus)
This is from me to you
With love
From me to you
With love
(chorus)
song performed by by 58
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His Boys
"I'm going, Billy, old fellow. Hist, lad! Don't make any noise.
There's Boches to beat all creation, the pitch of a bomb away.
I've fixed the note to your collar, you've got to get back to my Boys,
You've got to get back to warn 'em before it's the break of day."
The order came to go forward to a trench-line traced on the map;
I knew the brass-hats had blundered, I knew and I told 'em so;
I knew if I did as they ordered I would tumble into a trap,
And I tried to explain, but the answer came like a pistol: "Go."
Then I thought of the Boys I commanded -- I always called them "my Boys" --
The men of my own recruiting, the lads of my countryside;
Tested in many a battle, I knew their sorrows and joys,
And I loved them all like a father, with more than a father's pride.
To march my Boys to a shambles as soon as the dawn of day;
To see them helplessly slaughtered, if all that I guessed was true;
My Boys that trusted me blindly, I thought and I tried to pray,
And then I arose and I muttered: "It's either them or it's you."
I rose and I donned my rain-coat; I buckled my helmet tight.
I remember you watched me, Billy, as I took my cane in my hand;
I vaulted over the sandbags into the pitchy night,
Into the pitted valley that served us as No Man's Land.
I strode out over the hollow of hate and havoc and death,
From the heights the guns were angry, with a vengeful snarling of steel;
And once in a moment of stillness I heard hard panting breath,
And I turned . . . it was you, old rascal, following hard on my heel.
I fancy I cursed you, Billy; but not so much as I ought!
And so we went forward together, till we came to the valley rim,
And then a star-shell sputtered . . . it was even worse than I thought,
For the trench they told me to move in was packed with Boche to the brim.
They saw me too, and they got me; they peppered me till I fell;
And there I scribbled my message with my life-blood ebbing away;
"Now, Billy, you fat old duffer, you've got to get back like hell;
And get them to cancel that order before it's the dawn of day.
"Billy, old boy, I love you, I kiss your shiny black nose;
Now, home there. . . . Hurry, you devil, or I'll cut you to ribands. . . . See . . ."
Poor brute! he's off! and I'm dying. . . . I go as a soldier goes.
I'm happy. My Boys, God bless 'em! . . . It had to be them or me.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Escapade
In our lovely city of Chennai,
A big trench was deeply dug, nigh
To the neat pedestrian platform,
For laying pipes of forms and so on.
There came a corpulent buffalo,
And on the muddy trench low,
Espied its calf struggling in woe;
With celerity, it sprang down to tow.
The passers-by, saw the two-some,
Bracketed in the trench—so awesome—
Some passed by, speaking with pity;
The playful brats in glee, sang a ditty.
Some passed by engrossed in their own care,
Some flew past with no time to spare for the pair;
Something must be done to retrieve—some thought—
‘ Nothing by us could be done'—so some fought.
Some youth got down to the trench,
And got badly hurt in the wrench,
Ah! They lifted the calf with gay success,
But the big buffalo they couldn't harness.!
Meanwhile there formed a crowd around,
And some pronounced 'Let's the police sound.'
The police force spurned with disdain,
'To extricate a buffalo is not in our domain.'
Some inclined the ‘Blue Cross' to call,
And some ushered in the Fire Engine to haul,
Each according to their own fine thought,
Acted to bring the struggling buffalo caught.
The ‘Blue Cross' van hastened to the spot,
The men tossed strong ropes looped in a knot;
The animal ran hither and thither in fear,
They couldn't capture it though sincere.
From a far away place landed the fire-engine,
Even their efforts couldn't the buffalo pin!
Next day to arrive with improved elements,
The exhausted men left with wry laments.
Then the twilight gave place to dark night,
And the crowd dispersed from the location right.
The poor calf borne to the platform stood lonely,
And the buffalo was inside the trench standing impatiently.
Now the buffalo with maternal love was alone,
It's eyes with brightness, sparkling shone,
It saw it's calf, waiting with filial love anxiously,
And in a jiffy, the buffalo jumped up triumphantly!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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These Fought in Any Case
These fought in any case,
and some believing
pro domo, in any case .....
Died some, pro patria,
walked eye-deep in hell
believing in old men's lies, then unbelieving
came home, home to a lie,
home to many deceits,
home to old lies and new infamy;
usury age-old and age-thick
and liars in public places.
Daring as never before, wastage as never before.
Young blood and high blood,
fair cheeks, and fine bodies;
fortitude as never before
frankness as never before,
disillusions as never told in the old days,
hysterias, trench confessions,
laughter out of dead bellies.
poem by Ezra Pound
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My Fate Decided
D day
The icy spray of the sea
The soft murmur of men
The retailing of packs
The wait of mine secured on my back
My fate decided
The blow of a whistle
The thump of the 88`s letting lose
The rattle of bullets hitting the boat
The caused cry
The scream of men
The roar of metal ripping apart
My fate decided
The boat stoping
The men confused
The red water linking in
The ramp is opening
My fate decided
The whistles blown
The line a broken
Pushing men not wanting to leave
The water red and cold
The pounding of bullets
The scream of men all around
My fate decided
Blood bleached sand thick and red
My rifle a swung on my back
The clocking of wet rifles
The explosion of a boat
The cry of men, metal and guns
My fate decided
The sicken sight
The feeling worse
The pounding of feet
The rocks
Can we make it?
My fate decided
The rifle unsung
The rocks and shelter still far away
Can we make it?
Falling men hitting hard to the dirt
Is this where we should all now lay?
My fate decided
The shade of the towering stones
Now directly over me
Have I made it?
Yes voice from nowhere bellowed
On your feet a war to fight
Find the strength I think I might
My fate decided
Men still falling, still crying, still screaming in pain
I am here fine feeling only a dull numbness
Rifle clocked and ready to go
Firing on impulse as it would seem
Another round shot another man falls
The bullets flying all around
Hit men and picking them off at a steady past
Claiming their targets resting place
My fate decided
Stumbling into the trench
On top of the men which had fired at us not long ago
Their resting place now sealed in a bloody hole of mud and grit
Would this be me?
My fate decided
The loading of a rifle
Pulling me back to reality
To the blood soaked uniform
To the job at hand
To the war we must fight
My fate decided
poem by Mike Cochrane
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Otherside
[Chorus:]
How long how long will I slide
Separate my side I don't
I don't believe it's bad
Slit my throat
It's all I ever
I heard your voice through a photograph
I thought it up it brought up the past
Once you know you can never go back
I've got to take it on the otherside
Centuries are what it meant to me
A cemetery where I marry the sea
Stranger things could never change my mind
I've got to take it on the otherside
Take it on the otherside
Take it on
Take it on
[Chorus]
Pour my life into a paper cup
The ashtray's full and I'm spillin' my guts
She wants to know am I still a slut
I've got to take it on the otherside
Scarlet starlet and she's in my bed
A candidate for my soul mate bled
Push the trigger and pull the thread
I've got to take it on the otherside
Take it on the otherside
Take it on
Take it on
[Chorus]
Turn me on take me for a hard ride
Burn me out leave me on the otherside
I yell and tell it that
It's not my friend
I tear it down I tear it down
And then it's born again
[Chorus]
How long I don't believe it's bad
Slit my throat
It's all I ever
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers from Californication
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's A Queer Time
It's hard to know if you're alive or dead
When steel and fire go roaring through your head.
One moment you'll be crouching at your gun
Traversing, mowing heaps down half in fun:
The next, you choke and clutch at your right breast -
No time to think - leave all - and off you go…
To Treasure Island where the Spice winds blow,
To lovely groves of mango, quince and lime -
Breathe no good-bye, but ho, for the Red West!
It's a queer time.
You're charging madly at them yelling 'Fag!'
When somehow something gives and your feet drag.
You fall and strike your head; yet feel no pain
And find… you're digging tunnels through the hay
In the Big Barn, 'cause it's a rainy day.
Oh, springy hay, and lovely beams to climb!
You're back in the old sailor suit again.
It's a queer time.
Or you'll be dozing safe in your dug-out -
A great roar-the trench shakes and falls about
You're struggling, gasping, struggling, then… hullo!
Elsie comes tripping gaily down the trench,
Hanky to nose-that lyddite makes a stench -
Getting her pinafore all over grime.
Funny! because she died ten years ago!
It's a queer time.
The trouble is, things happen much too quick;
Up jump the Boches, rifles thump and click,
You stagger, and the whole scene fades away:
Even good Christians don't like passing straight
From Tipperary or their Hymn of Hate
To Alleluiah-chanting, and the chime
Of golden harps… and… I'm not well to-day…
It's a queer time.
poem by Robert Graves
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