The Dead-beat
He dropped, - more sullenly than wearily,
Lay stupid like a cod, heavy like meat,
And none of us could kick him to his feet;
-just blinked at my revolver, blearily;
- Didn't appear to know a war was on,
Or see the blasted trench at which he stared.
'I'll do 'em in,' he whined. 'If this hand's spared,
I'll murder them, I will.'
A low voice said,
'It's Blighty, p'raps, he sees; his pluck's all gone,
Dreaming of all the valiant, that aren't dead:
Bold uncles, smiling ministerially;
Maybe his brave young wife, getting her fun
In some new home, improved materially.
It's not these stiffs have crazed him; nor the Hun.'
We sent him down at last, out of the way.
Unwounded; - stout lad, too, before that strafe.
Malingering? Stretcher-bearers winked, 'Not half!'
Next day I heard the Doc's well-whiskied laugh:
'That scum you sent last night soon died. Hooray!'
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Related quotes
Murder
Upon the threshold, red-eyed Murder stands,
Fresh from his slaughter-house of human meat,
Blood on his broken teeth and on his hands,
Blood on his nails and on his purple feet.
With hollow voice he speaks, and sick'ning breath,
'A way there is, that only way is death!….
The dead will rise no more,-the dead are dead!
The spared will creep behind the sparer's back,
And breathe their plots and stab. The dead are dead!
And lie along the safe triumphal track.
The young-eyed babe, will lisp it's little tales.
The loving girl will slay her main in bed
Kissing his savage mouth, the victor fails
At Mercy's seat. The dead are safely dead'.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Pregnancy
Buds
A gift of love pouched
Hooray, Hooray
Kicks
The babe in womb bulged
Hooray, Hooray
Babe
Side to side moving
Hooray, Hooray
Heart
Stirred caring mother
Hooray, Hooray
He
Says be like your mom
Hooray, Hooray
She
Says be like your dad
Hooray, Hooray
Pals
Wish be like the sun
Hooray, Hooray
They
Wish, out safe grandchild
Ahoy, Hooray, Hooray
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Going Home
I'm goin' 'ome to Blighty -- ain't I glad to 'ave the chance!
I'm loaded up wiv fightin', and I've 'ad my fill o' France;
I'm feelin' so excited-like, I want to sing and dance,
For I'm goin' 'ome to Blighty in the mawnin'.
I'm goin' 'ome to Blighty: can you wonder as I'm gay?
I've got a wound I wouldn't sell for 'alf a year o' pay;
A harm that's mashed to jelly in the nicest sort o' way,
For it takes me 'ome to Blighty in the mawnin'.
'Ow everlastin' keen I was on gettin' to the front!
I'd ginger for a dozen, and I 'elped to bear the brunt;
But Cheese and Crust! I'm crazy, now I've done me little stunt,
To sniff the air of Blighty in the mawnin'.
I've looked upon the wine that's white, and on the wine that's red;
I've looked on cider flowin', till it fairly turned me 'ead;
But oh, the finest scoff will be, when all is done and said,
A pint o' Bass in Blighty in the mawnin'.
I'm goin' back to Blighty, which I left to strafe the 'Un;
I've fought in bloody battles, and I've 'ad a 'eap of fun;
But now me flipper's busted, and I think me dooty's done,
And I'll kiss me gel in Blighty in the mawnin'.
Oh, there be furrin' lands to see, and some of 'em be fine;
And there be furrin' gels to kiss, and scented furrin' wine;
But there's no land like England, and no other gel like mine:
Thank Gawd for dear old Blighty in the mawnin'.
poem by Robert William Service
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Hooray Say The Roses
hooray say the roses, today is blamesday
and we are red as blood.
hooray say the roses, today is Wednesday
and we bloom wher soldiers fell
and lovers too,
and the snake at the word.
hooray say the roses, darkness comes
all at once, like lights gone out,
the sun leaves dark continents
and rows of stone.
hooray say the roses, cannons and spires,
birds, bees, bombers, today is Friday
the hand holding a medal out the window,
a moth going by, half a mile an hour,
hooray hooray
hooray say the roses
we have empires on our stems,
the sun moves the mouth:
hooray hooray hooray
and that is why you like us.
Submitted by .eve.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Harry’s Come Marching Home Again (Written In March 2008)
Harry’s come marching home again, Hooray! Hooray!
From Afghanistan, not to roam again, he is back, to stay.
Whilst the flags are out and the bugles blare
I am sure he wishes he still were there.
And we all feel proud Prince Harry has come back home.
Harry’s come flying home again, Hooray! Hooray!
Since media hacks have hunted him down as prey, for pay.
They’ve snitched and let the cat out of the bag
And he’s had to fly home and brave jet lag
And I’m sure he’s sick he’s had to come flying home.
Harry’s come sailing home again, Hooray! Hooray!
It would just have been a security risk to stay, they say.
Now the papers groan and wonder what
They can do with him, now he can’t get shot
But they’ve got their scoop now Harry’s come sailing home.
Harry’s come driving home again, Hooray! Hooray!
Now he can go back on the town again, to play and stray
And the paparazzi will take their snaps
While he’s on the booze with a few of the chaps
And they’ll take their cut now Harry’s come driving home.
Harry’s come marching home again, Hooray! Hooray!
From Afghanistan, not to roam again. Is he back to stay
Till the next time he is sent off to fight,
If they hush it up? Will it all be right?
Do we all feel proud Prince Harry has come back home?
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Spared
Spared, raps, rapes, drapes, reaps, pea, peas, sea, pears;
They misled you and overcame you! !
And you were bounded in the hands of your enemies;
But this war in Libya is now spreading all over the land.
Spared, spear, ear, dare, dear, read, era, are, pare, pared;
And like the way bombs are being dropped out every now and then,
For the rebels are now catching up the strong holds of Libya!
And the news is all over the radio and T.V.
Spared, spread, pear, sear, sad, pad, rape, drape, reap, rap;
And like the noise of the bullets being heard here and there in Libya!
But somebody spared the life of his relative,
And many crossed over to the neighbouring countries nearby.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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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Kick, Kick, Kick.
When hurt kick,
When lonely kick,
When embaressed kick,
When happy kick,
When sad kick,
When nervous kick,
When laughing kick,
When crying kick,
When sick kick,
When playing kick,
When dead kick...
If you can!
I mean, what are those feet for?
Kick, kick, kick...
If you still can!
poem by Azeem AbdulRahim
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Love Vigilantes
Oh Ive just come
From the land of the sun
From a war that must be won
In the name of truth
With our soldiers so brave
Your freedom we will save
With our rifles and grenades
And some help from god
I want to see my family
My wife and child waiting for me
Ive got to go home
Ive been so alone, you see
You just cant believe
The joy I did recieve
When I finally got my leave
And I was going home
Oh I flew through the sky
My convictions could not lie
For my country I would die
And I will see it soon
I want to see my family
My wife and child waiting for me
Ive got to go home
Ive been so alone, you see
When I walked through the door
My wife she lay upon the floor
And with tears her eyes were sore
I did not know why
Then I looked into her hand
And I saw the telegram
That said that I was a brave, brave man
But that I was dead
I want to see my family
My wife and child waiting for me
Ive got to go home
Ive been so alone, you see
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trench Duty
Shaken from sleep, and numbed and scarce awake,
Out in the trench with three hours’ watch to take,
I blunder through the splashing mirk; and then
Hear the gruff muttering voices of the men
Crouching in cabins candle-chinked with light.
Hark! There’s the big bombardment on our right
Rumbling and bumping; and the dark’s a glare
Of flickering horror in the sectors where
We raid the Boche; men waiting, stiff and chilled,
Or crawling on their bellies through the wire.
‘What? Stretcher-bearers wanted? Some one killed?’
Five minutes ago I heard a sniper fire:
Why did he do it? ... Starlight overhead—
Blank stars. I’m wide-awake; and some chap’s dead.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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Bad day
I saw a black cat but then it died,
I saw a magpie and thus I cried,
I found a penny but passed it by,
I found a dead bird and gave a sigh,
I wore my shirt the wrong way around,
But fixed it once the mistake was found,
I wore my opal ring on this day,
But then recalled I was born in May,
I dropped a teaspoon but had no guest,
I dropped a dishcloth and feared unrest,
I heard a cuckoo but was cashless,
I heard a bark and started to stress,
I took home an old iron horse shoe,
But didn't find it like you're meant to,
I took home a white rose in full bloom,
But then remembered it'll bring forth doom.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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The Dying Gamblers Story
In a little secret Gambling house in a city known for fame
There sits a man of tender years his head bowed down in shame
That young man told a story as sad as can be
And if you will but listen this is what he said to me.
A year ago I had a wife but she was called one day
And as she lay so near to death she pressed my hand to say
I'm giving you my wedding ring to cherish all your life
And with these words the reaper called away my loving wife.
Soon I started gambling til I never had a thing
And on a hand I thought would win I bet my dead wife's ring
I drew the card and looked at it, Oh God I cried aloud
I've lost my dead wife's wedding ring to this drunken jeering around.
When he had finished speaking he bowed his head and sighed
And we who heard his story knew that he had died
But that dying gamblers story didn't mean a thing
Too bad they said, dealt the cards, and bet his dear wife's ring.
poem by Kenneth T. Schofield
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Just Some Stupid Girl
Just some stupid girl,
just fourteen years old.
She should have stayed silent.
She shouldn't act bold.
Just some stupid girl
lacking all sense of dread.
Classes for girls?
She should have been dead.
Just some stupid girl
only infidels note.
She took a shot to the head,
next a knife to the throat.
Just some stupid girl
that we failed to kill
filled with stupid ideas
that are not Allah's will.
Just some stupid girl
that some have called brave
just for daring to think
she won't wind up a slave.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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98
kick kick kick
when bored kick
when hurt kick
when ignored kick
when lost kick
when you're listed out
kick
when you're dead
kick
if you can.
what are those feet for?
kick, kick, kick,
if you still can
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Men faer Snake more than Women
The men fear snake more than women
A man walking with his wife
Come across the snake on path near home
The man and his wife suddenly stopped
The man whined and the woman unfleappabled
The man whined people of that home
Is there snake soother-healer there?
Why?
Snake! My God!
Has it bitten you
No! my God
Then why?
It wants to bite meeee!
let it bite you first
And you‘ll be told
Yes or No
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Everyone Was There
Thinking about senior year
Everyone was here
Playing capture the flag at the park
Didn’t stop ‘til it got dark
And the very next day
Had poison on my arms and legs
And I didn’t even care
Because everyone was there
We were young and stupid
We were wild and crazy
But we didn’t even care
Because everyone was there
Thinking about that one Saturday
Was having fun in our own way
At a friends house we were spending the night
Think that was true? Yeah right
We were partying hard in the field
If my parents found out I’d be killed
But I didn’t even care
Because everyone was there
We were young and stupid
We were wild and crazy
But we didn’t even care
Because everyone was there
Thinking about graduation night
We were all as high as a kite
Laughing about the whole year
And we were all here
Sitting around a bonfire
With a bottle of fire water
And I didn’t even care
Because everyone was there
We were young
And we were so stupid
We were wild
And we were so crazy
We didn’t have a worry or a care
Because everyone was there
poem by Maggie lll
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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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Of all emotion.
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.
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.
Of all emotion.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The Hero
'Jack fell as he'd have wished,' the mother said,
And folded up the letter that she'd read.
'The Colonel writes so nicely.' Something broke
In the tired voice that quavered to a choke.
She half looked up. 'We mothers are so proud
Of our dead soldiers.' Then her face was bowed.
Quietly the Brother Officer went out.
He'd told the poor old dear some gallant lies
That she would nourish all her days, no doubt
For while he coughed and mumbled, her weak eyes
Had shone with gentle triumph, brimmed with joy,
Because he'd been so brave, her glorious boy.
He thought how 'Jack', cold-footed, useless swine,
Had panicked down the trench that night the mine
Went up at Wicked Corner; how he'd tried
To get sent home, and how, at last, he died,
Blown to small bits. And no one seemed to care
Except that lonely woman with white hair.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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The Hero
'Jack fell as he'd have wished,' the mother said,
And folded up the letter that she'd read.
'The Colonel writes so nicely.' Something broke
In the tired voice that quavered to a choke.
She half looked up. 'We mothers are so proud
Of our dead soldiers.' Then her face was bowed.
Quietly the Brother Officer went out.
He'd told the poor old dear some gallant lies
That she would nourish all her days, no doubt
For while he coughed and mumbled, her weak eyes
Had shone with gentle triumph, brimmed with joy,
Because he'd been so brave, her glorious boy.
He thought how 'Jack', cold-footed, useless swine,
Had panicked down the trench that night the mine
Went up at Wicked Corner; how he'd tried
To get sent home, and how, at last, he died,
Blown to small bits. And no one seemed to care
Except that lonely woman with white hair.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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Hero
'Jack fell as he'd have wished,' the Mother said,
And folded up the letter that she'd read.
'The Colonel writes so nicely.' Something broke
In the tired voice that quavered to a choke.
She half looked up. 'We mothers are so proud
Of our dead soldiers.' Then her face was bowed.
Quietly the Brother Officer went out.
He'd told the poor old dear some gallant lies
That she would nourish all her days, no doubt.
For while he coughed and mumbled, her weak eyes
Had shone with gentle triumph, brimmed with joy,
Because he'd been so brave, her glorious boy.
He thought how 'Jack', cold-footed, useless swine,
Had panicked down the trench that night the mine
Went up at Wicked Corner; how he'd tried
To get sent home, and how, at last, he died,
Blown to small bits. And no one seemed to care
Except that lonely woman with white hair.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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