Thousand Bullets
There are a thousand details pulled in scenes of borders,
Countries have various posts to deliver their protection.
One clicked and the other sang a tune offered by the clergy,
Troopers triumph in splendour for the creation of the nation.
They recollect the generals for their courage,
Their guns go off, and they send the barrage,
For the swarm of bullets defends the strong from the weak,
And force them to eternal death by hanging at least.
Perspiration claimed abundant pressure for the lot,
The generals themselves gain the upper hand
From the mistakes of the enemy, the opposition is mad,
For the opposition is the proud evil of this community.
It requires endless repetition and pacing to strike a scrum
Of attack on the passionate betrayers in our vicinity.
The real stammer is in the old and also the young,
For both ends of the spectrum deserve an equal measure.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
The Opposition aren't really the Opposition. They're just called the Opposition. But in fact they are the Opposition in exile. The Civil Service are the Opposition in residence.
quote by Antony Jay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Generals & Majors
Generals and majors ah ah
Theyre never too far
From battlefields so glorious
Out in a world of their own
Theyll never come down
Till once again victorious
Generals and majors always
Seem so unhappy less they got a war
Generals and majors ah ah
Like never before are tired of being actionless.
Calling generals and majors
Generals and majors everywhere
Calling generals and majors
Your world war iii is drawing near
Generals and majors ah ah
Theyre never too far
Away from men who made the grade
Out in a world of their own
Theyll never come down
Until the battles lost or made
Generals and majors ah ah
Like never before, are tired of being in the shade
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Generals & Majors
Generals and majors ah ah
Theyre never too far
From battlefields so glorious
Out in a world of their own
Theyll never come down
Till once again victorious
Generals and majors always
Seem so unhappy less they got a war
Generals and majors ah ah
Like never before are tired of being actionless.
Calling generals and majors
Generals and majors everywhere
Calling generals and majors
Your world war iii is drawing near
Generals and majors ah ah
Theyre never too far
Away from men who made the grade
Out in a world of their own
Theyll never come down
Until the battles lost or made
Generals and majors ah ah
Like never before, are tired of being in the shade
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Appointed Commission
Dying-with-dignity might be a media-forbidden fact,
The aristocrats believe that this fact could infect,
And cause Canadians to demand some legal change,
But if they don't read about it; there will be no need to rearrange.
And besides; it's probably against every religion,
Especially those well organized about sin; those Christians,
So the opposition is strong and educated and very aware,
Though that death-with-dignity issue becomes louder every year.
Several European countries already have euthanasia,
It tends to be looked at these days; as a musical fantasia,
So there's no doubt that it's coming our way despite the opposition,
Politicians might stop it with another appointed commission.
poem by James Bredin
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National Stability
Stable is under authority a wise country,
For a better work collapsed into mere beauty.
Hatred was better to pick on Earth,
As for love I preside over it, like it.
Country after nation after world parliament
Can upset royal marriages from preserving
Dignity.
Selfless work was stopped by strangers of going
And gone was the reward offered by selfishness.
An enemy is opposition fought by the public,
By the population.
Enemies must define a boundary and persevere
On the grounds of an own reasoning - a fault is to batter.
Borders are fixed.
Wonders are dismissed.
We are in an underachieving hold, when they are not.
Stable community of the continent
Must make amends or face the aftermath of a great deal.
Wars are fought by the masses, and we are those hungered.
Wars can be victorious when stable-and-wise.
poem by Naveed Akram
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What can we say
The night her sable wings has spread
across this city of the dead.
The silver moon light shimmering
upon white gravestones glimmering.
The rows of headstones on parade
recall the sacrifices made.
By those whose bones lie here at rest.
Some old some young who did their best.
Their country called they volunteered
to defend freedom it appeared.
From field and factory they came
but death would treat them all the same.
Young labourers and artisans
were all included in the plans
of generals who seldom knew
that they were asking men to do
tasks which were barely possible.
They proved themselves incapable
of showing flexibility.
Repeating mistakes constantly.
Advance, retreat advance again.
The price was high for little gain.
A hundred yards or perhaps two
of shell pocked mud which stuck like glue.
Behind the lines the big guns roared
adding more bodies to the hoard
too many to enumerate.
Who had already met their fate.
The general staff still held the view
that there was nothing else to do
but bombard with artillery
and then send in the infantry.
Their hide bound minds were tightly closed
to any new tactic proposed
Thanks to the way that they were taught.
The correct way wars should be fought.
It took four years to recognise
it was a futile exercise.
Although we claimed the victory
I’m not too sure that I agree..
Every war grave cemetery
though mute still speaks eloquently.
The price of war is far too high.
What can we answer in reply?
14-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Truth Through Repetition
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
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repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
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on Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiti
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Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiion
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
ruth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition T
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through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
poem by David Keig
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Saddam Hussein was a brutal tyrant. I am glad he is now on trial for crimes against humanity. But, opposition to a dictator is not the measure I use when deciding whether to send our men and women in uniform off to war and possible death.
quote by Peter DeFazio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A War To End All Wars, But Wasn’t
They not only fought the enemy,
but fought the elements as well.
They fought for their country
in lands far from home.
They fought rain, mud and the enemy
in trenches stained with blood
from those who had fallen there before.
They fought on and on
while the Generals watched
the slaughter from far away.
For their mistakes men died
by the score across the battlefield.
Their blood would stained the land
then and forever more.
Then came the gas
like a creeping mist across the battlefield
that silenced all in its wake.
It made no distinction to young or old,
just poisoned all it touched.
Their contorted bodies rotted where they fell.
They said this was a war to end all wars, but it wasn’t.
Almost twenty years later
men from different countries gathered to fight another war
and again in the trenches men fell.
The mechanics had changed;
machines became more prevalent across the battlefield,
still men died for small victories in the tide of war.
3 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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Constitutional Point
Power corrupts,
whereas sound opposition
builds up our free
democratic tradition.
One thing would make
a democracy flower:
having a strong opposition-
in power.
The Last War
I came to join a 'Peace Force,
To stop fighting, murder, war.
But now the war has started,
The 'Peace Force' is no more.
The fighting goes on - forever,
The murder has no because,
Just who wanted this stupid war?
I'd like life the way it was.
The way life was before the Bomb,
Before they slaughtered earth.
Before they killed the human race,
What was it really worth.
The generals in their office,
(Now floating round in space) !
Shake each others hands,
And put on a brave face.
Tiny peices of rock float by,
They used to be our world.
Now everything we loved is destroyed,
But the generals say we won.
poem by Christine Andrews
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China has always maintained that all countries, big or small, rich or poor, strong or weak, are equal members of the international community and they should stand and speak in the world as such.
What Do You Really Deserve?
Some people say that you deserve more so grab all that comes to you,
But eternally speaking, what do you deserve from God's point of view?
Man came from the dust of the ground and to the dust he will return,
Some will rise to Eternal Life, while many choose to eternally burn.
Man just portrays powers of good and evil, but does good always win?
If they're only powers, where does evil come from along with the sin?
And what are the wages of sin my friend, The Bible says it's death,
For all are destined once to die with judgment at their last breath.
You didn't will yourself here but by your mother you were conceived,
And those who raised you, in God they may or may not have believed.
As you grew on your own perhaps you were puffed up by what you heard,
But of life's real concerns, what from God do you think you deserve?
Since all have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God my friend,
Shouldn't you stop the foolish thinking to consider your Eternal End?
All men that forget God will be turned into the Eternal Lake of Fire,
This is the cost of sin my friend, but not The Loving Lord's desire.
God wants none to perish but all to come to repentance in The Lord,
Friend, you will get what you deserve if God continues to be ignored.
For God sent His Son to die for the sin of all men from every nation,
So what will be your end when you continue to ignore His Salvation?
Got to Knock Those Fences Down
We've got to knock,
Those fences down!
And every opposition,
Creating tensions mentioned.
Those defenses we keep hanging around...
Gotta be knocked knocked knocked to the ground.
Minimizing mistakes once made.
And lay purpose to correct our ways.
They will stand up in dismay,
To say they dislike what is said.
Those feeble beavers.
Munching on foundations.
Degrading with fixations...
To increase their greed,
Feeding sickened mentalities.
While some choose to sniff for floral scents...
Refusing to acknowledge,
The presence of decadence.
Hoping to get as high as possible...
On pretense and attempts,
For meaningless attention.
Those defenses we keep hanging around...
Gotta be knocked knocked knocked to the ground.
Minimizing mistakes once made.
And lay purpose to correct our ways.
We've got to knock,
Those fences down!
And every opposition,
Creating tensions mentioned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Estimation
The president estimated the war courage,
But the believers argued plaintively as a heart
Would beat faster after the exercise of the muscles,
The president just calculated according to his taste.
The chief-generals perched nation-wide, safeguarding like birds
Over their chicks in a nest of surrendering whispers,
In order to crush the rebellion a quelling of forces
Had to arrive for the good of the logical city and state.
Justice appealed to the vicious, an act of war on the self,
But the president himself fought bravely in front of the barristers
Of the nation and realm, by negotiating and trivializing the sins
Of the forefathers and ancestors of endearing skill and precision.
The tirade pursued the ends of the earth and soil we fed,
Potatoes were uprooted and crops of other sides left to die;
Dying was the death, and death was to die, the famine
Had been fabricated, after all.
The wars extended, the wars were a realistic space of seduction,
For the enemy also fought bravely, and the president negotiated,
Words were still aggressive like the words of danger and pursuit,
Let the haranguing go on! And forgiveness became an actuality.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Surprise attack
The enemy can be easily way laid in night
When they are relaxing after the fierce fight?
They won’t have slight inkling about surprise move
They may not have slight chance for superiority to prove
The olden battles waged by kings provide sufficient skill
How the war can be won and force the enemy to flee or killed?
How best the weaknesses can be exploited to full advantage?
And the best and powerful armies of the world can be managed
The ground is surveyed before the start of war
The enemy supply lines are too probed very far
The cut of supply route can bring any army to knee
They may loose the clear advantage of fighting free
The rulers never wanted any competion
They were guided by the superstitions
No one should challenge their authority
They must have complete superiority
The kings were sole authority in the field
They had lots of influence and enormous power to yield
They were benevolent and provided good shield
They had high standing in public eye and respect too held
The war norms were observed and not violated
At down it was bringing all the hostilities to an end
The armies would retire to tents and prepare for next day
Still the foul games were never ruled out in any way
I have vivid remembrance of one such incident
The army was annihilated and defeat was evident
The retired generals thought to make surprise attack
They had nothing to loose but everything at stake
As they entered retiring tents in barracks
They found it opportune for surprise attack
They moved at ease and killed many generals
The little carelessness proved fatal for veterans
It is known reaction with the advent of next sun rise
The whole filed will be witnessed by sudden demise
Lot many able generals might have lost their life
It was not moral war but worn torn strife
The time has changed but not the tactics
The time and against it has been proved by statistics
The powerful armies are routed by small army
The theories and proofs are provided by many
Who ever strikes first can with the half war?
Enemy may not be able to go and cut very far
It will be seen as their graveyard or coffin
They have to flee the ground instead witnessing the win
* The surprise attack is powerful weapon in any war”
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Next War
War's a joke for me and you,
Wile we know such dreams are true.
- Siegfried Sassoon
Out there, we've walked quite friendly up to Death,-
Sat down and eaten with him, cool and bland,-
Pardoned his spilling mess-tins in our hand.
We've sniffed the green thick odour of his breath,-
Our eyes wept, but our courage didn't writhe.
He's spat at us with bullets and he's coughed
Shrapnel. We chorussed when he sang aloft,
We whistled while he shaved us with his scythe.
Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!
We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.
No soldier's paid to kick against His powers.
We laughed, -knowing that better men would come,
And greater wars: when each proud fighter brags
He wars on Death, for lives; not men, for flags.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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September Eleventh,2011 USA
This day reminds that evil lurks in skies!
This day tells us that world is not yet safe;
This day brings memories of the lost loved ones;
This day instills a unity anew!
A nation strong is weak in many ways;
A nation cannot be alert always;
But terrorists shan't have their way, all days;
Good will triumph o'er evil any day!
Let's pray to God to give us peace on earth;
Demons and evil-minds are on the prowl;
We have to wage a war against untruth;
And truth will win, as God is on our side!
‘Let God strengthen the nation once again! '
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-09-2012
poem by John Celes
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Generally speaking
The guns fall silent and the dead
lie quietly they’ve played their part.
The night hour’s pass heavy with dread
at first light the big guns will start.
The sound of the artillery
will fill the silent skies again.
Eroding further bravery
of the war weary fighting men.
The brave young men on either side
are doomed to die face down in mud.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
Their dug outs do but little good.
A shell burst may not kill just maim
The lucky ones are those who die,
they are the winners in this game
when thick and fast the bullets fly.
Opposing sides move to and fro
to capture trenches they’ve just left.
For no good reason that they know
obeying orders quite bereft
of any sign of sanity.
The generals are safe behind the lines
Unlike the vast majority
who fight to fulfil their designs.
Lions by donkeys badly led
Young men by the thousand died.
A foreign field their final bed
because good sense was not applied.
In Flanders fields the poppies grow.
The soil enriched by their hearts blood
What have we learnt we did not know?
Nobody won Nobody could.
There are no winners none at all
except perhaps the carrion crows
They dine well when the soldiers fall
as mighty nations come to blows.
Survivors return home broken men
with small support and little praise.
Until they’re needed once again
when countries their new armies raise.
Another war to end all wars.
We do not learn from history
For men can always find a cause.
Why this should be a mystery.
18-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Lone Wolf Of Canberra
A man without a party, he
Knows nought of obligation
To any friend; but, fancy free.
He represents the nation.
In lonely majesty he sits
To give the Opposition fits,
Or rend the Government to bits
With fierce vituperation.
Of all he is most wise, most free,
Most pure, and - inter alia
Shorn of responsibility,
He speaks for all Australia.
Tho' parties rise or parties fall,
What cares he? He's 'Agin 'em all.'
Sole patriot, clad, at Freedom's call,
In Liberty's regalia.
All, saving him, are out of tune
When the lone wolf is howling.
He lifts his head and bays the moon
With fierce, but futile growling.
And, tho' the Opposition squirms
And Ministers would sue for terms,
He knows them all for loathy worms,
Despite the Speaker's scowling.
At Canberra he's as free as air
So say the press recorders.
He knows no man as master there
Within its sylvan borders.
And so, tho' members fret and frown,
He scarcely ever need sit down
Except to write to Sydney town
To Mister Lang, for orders.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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