Related quotes: To the tune of: The...

An Alternate Battle Hymn

To the tune of: The Battle Hymn of the Republic

Mine eyes are wide and whitening in the recess of the dark.
They are still and fixed and staring and will shine no more a spark.
In dread of merely dying has my life traced out it's arc,
Will death yet set me free?

Gory! Gory! War is murder!
The bridge of hope has lost her girders.
Oh Gloria, you should have heard her
Cry of misery.

I've been FBI and CIA, a gruff DEA narc.
In the jungles of Columbia I fought the fiercest FARC.
We employed the smart technologies in our hunting of the Snark.
And the game we played was war!

Gory! Gory! War is murder!
Gory! Gory! War is murder!
Gory! Gory! War is murder!
And peace our victory.

So we planned this operation as a fine stroll in the park;
We'd cut out the poisonous canker as the eagle doth the lark.
Though we stumble and we falter we will always leave our mark,
And write new history.

We'll impose the new world order where our bites' worse than our bark.
We will gamble with the future like a circling vulture shark.
We are all the common soldier in the hell-hole that's Iraq,
And that's the mystery.

Glory! Glory! How much further,
Can you wreck a country to convert her?
It's the same old story – yet absurder,
In this new century!

Gory! Gory! War is murder!
Gory! Gory! War is murder!
Gory! Gory! War is murder!
In this new century!

poem by David SmithWhite
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Knife

Slit and
Slither knife
Penetrate in phallic push
To perforate the pulse of tissues in the flesh
Slice a vein to drain the unsuspecting victim
E’er they bleed and plea
Their scream
Of death

murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Soilder’s Anguish

A SOILDER’S ANGUISH

In a flash a flashback
The transmission of images forgotten
Images that halted time
And tamed a lion

The gory of lost sons
His eyes swells
Like that of a widowed woman
The egos of men

With or without consideration
Those who decided the fate of others
The horror of a haunted night
The cry of departing brothers

Brothers turned enemies overnight
Over the change of interest
The trauma of witnessing a murder
Murder of one’s beloved

War is but a super volcano
That can destroys the unrecoverable

poem by Magnus Amudi
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The worst morning gift one can get

Early morning
One sees news
Of Rape and torture
Death and murder
Fraud and cheating
Printed in big letters
Of newspapers
In explicit words
And gory detail
Makes the heart sad
Disturbs mind’s peace
The worst morning gift
One can get
In the developed world
Of cultured people

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Went To War

He went to
war
for his nation's glory
He returned from war
knowing it gory.

=====================

poem by O. Anna Niemus
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Premeditation

Oh blade you'll warm tonight!
Awash in crimson-purple flows,
Your sheen will dull with aching flesh:
Palpating anatomic mounds
Caressing, dancing, writhing round
Your metal form-
Whetted ‘gainst a lonely bone,
Then to probe the pounding, begging heart.

And all the while the prey will howl
Before they crumple; greet the mud-
A taut and unbelieving jowl
Will open out for giving blood-
A vent from down below,
Once a brutal show
Of metal in the man.

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Billys 'Square Affair

Long Bill, the captain of the push, was tired of his estate,
And wished to change his life and win the love of something ‘straight’;
’Twas rumour’d that the Gory B.’s had heard Long Bill declare
That he would turn respectable and wed a ‘square affair.’
He craved the kiss of innocence; his spirit longed to rise;
The ‘Crimson Streak,’ his faithful ‘piece,’ grew hateful in his eyes;
(And though, in her entirety, the Crimson Streak ‘was there,’
I grieve to state the Crimson Streak was not a ‘square affair.’)

He wanted clothes, a masher suit, he wanted boots and hat;
His girl had earned a quid or two—he wouldn’t part with that;
And so he went to Brickfield Hill, and from a draper there
He ‘shook’ the proper kind of togs to fetch a ‘square affair.’

Long Bill went to the barber’s shop and had a shave and singe,
And from his narrow forehead combed his darling Mabel fringe;
Long Bill put on a ‘square cut’ and he brushed his boots with care,
And roved about the Gardens till he mashed a ‘square affair.’

She was a tony servant-girl from somewhere on ‘the Shore;’
She dressed in style that suited Bill—he could not wish for more.
While in her guileless presence he had ceased to chew or swear,
He knew the kind of barrack that can fetch a square affair.

To thus desert his donah old was risky and a sin,
And ’twould have served him right if she had caved his garret in.
The Gory Bleeders thought it too, and warned him to take care
In case the Crimson Streak got scent of Billy’s square affair.

He took her to the stalls; ’twas dear, but Billy said ‘Wot odds!’
He couldn’t take his square affair amongst the crimson gods.
They wandered in the park at night, and hugged each other there—
But, ah! the Crimson Streak got wind of Billy’s square affair!

‘The blank and space and stars!’ she yelled; ‘the nameless crimson dash!
‘I’ll smash the blanky crimson and his square affair, I’ll smash’—
In short, she drank and raved and shrieked and tore her crimson hair,
And swore to murder Billy and to pound his square affair.

And so one summer evening, as the day was growing dim,
She watched her bloke go out, and foxed his square affair and him.
That night the park was startled by the shrieks that rent the air—
The ‘Streak’ had gone for Billy and for Billy’s square affair.

The ‘gory’ push had foxed the Streak, they foxed her to the park,
And they, of course; were close at hand to see the bleedin’ lark;
A cop arrived in time to hear a ‘gory B.’ declare
‘Gor blar-me! here’s the Red Streak foul of Billy’s square affair.’

Now Billy scowls about the Rocks, his manly beauty marr’d,
And Billy’s girl, upon her ’ed, is doin’ six months ’ard;
Bill’s swivel eye is in a sling, his heart is in despair,
And in the Sydney ’Orspital lies Billy’s square affair.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Survieor of suicide

I Look at me as i sit here in pain.
Look at my face with its strain.
I sit here hating you all the more.
Why couldn't you just let me go.

So many scars on my wrists,
Each of them a different story.
That simply has no glory.
Its all very gory.

And you say Im a surivor.
Yes I guess I am.
But that was your choice.
I was happy and i was ready.
Ready for what you might ask?
Im ready for death

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Easter.

Easter is a special time in your life,
It means resurrection after the darkness,
By following the steps of your brother
Jesus Christ.

Dying means not a gory death,
But let go the will, want and regret.
To became what God always meant for you,
A perfect child of the Universe,
Where eventually everyone should be too.

poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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Tell Me A Story

Tell me a story that isn't gory
tell me a story that isn't fake
tell me a story where you made a mistake
tell me a story where the cows come home
tell me a story I want to know
tell me a story where the princess finds herself
not a prince who is more like an elf.
Tell me a story that I can laugh out loud
tell me a story where storm makes lighting clouds.
For in the end we only have our stories to tell
what make them funny, give them hell.

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Tell Me A Story

poem by Christina Sunrise
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Sonnet Eyewitness

One eye is peering through a window crack!
The darkened room has dilated pupil;
It watches closely all who did attack;
The fear-filled lady stands alone and still!

She’s witness to the gory murder scene!
She dare not cry or breathe harder than this;
A mob of youngsters rape and kill a teen;
Unluckily, she is the one witness.

Her inner mind now cautions her, ‘Don’t peep! ’
Her heart of anguish goads her on forward;
It is too late to summon help or weep;
Alas! Some human beasts act like a herd!

Her conscience goads her to inform the law;
Her troubled heart lies horrified with awe!

poem by John Celes
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Dire Wolf

In the timbers to fennario, the wolves are running round,
The winter was so hard and cold, froze ten feet neath the ground.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
I sat down to my supper, twas a bottle of red whisky,
I said my prayers and went to bed, thats the last they saw of me.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
When I awoke, the dire wolf, six hundred pounds of sin,
Was grinning at my window, all I said was come on in.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
The wolf came in, I got my cards, we sat down for a game.
I cut my deck to the queen of spades, but the cards were all the same.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
In the backwash of fennario, the black and bloody mire,
The dire wolf collects his dues, while the boys sing round the fire.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
No, no, no dont murder me. I beg of you,
Dont murder me. please, dont murder me.

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fighting Téméraire

It was eight bells ringing,
For the morning watch was done,
And the gunner's lads were singing
As they polished every gun.
It was eight bells ringing,
And the gunner's lads were singing,
For the ship she rode a-swinging,
As they polished every gun.

Oh! to see the linstock lighting,
Téméraire! Téméraire!
Oh! to hear the round shot biting,
Téméraire! Téméraire!
Oh! to see the linstock lighting,
And to hear the round shot biting,
For we're all in love with fighting
On the fighting Téméraire.

It was noontide ringing,
And the battle just begun,
When the ship her way was winging,
As they loaded every gun.
It was noontide ringing,
When the ship her way was winging,
And the gunner's lads were singing
As they loaded every gun.

There'll be many grim and gory,
Téméraire! Téméraire!
There'll be few to tell the story,
Téméraire! Téméraire!
There'll be many grim and gory,
There'll be few to tell the story,
But we'll all be one in glory
With the Fighting Téméraire.

There's a far bell ringing
At the setting of the sun,
And a phantom voice is singing
Of the great days done.
There's a far bell ringing,
And a phantom voice is singing
Of renown for ever clinging
To the great days done.

Now the sunset breezes shiver,
Téméraire! Téméraire!
And she's fading down the river,
Téméraire! Téméraire!
Now the sunset's breezes shiver,
And she's fading down the river,
But in England's song for ever
She's the Fighting Téméraire.

poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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The Farewell

'Tis not the untried soldier new to danger
Who fears to enter into active strife.
Amidst the roll of drums, the cannon's rattle,
He craves adventure, and thinks not of life.

But the scarred vetran knows the price of glory,
He does not court the conflict or the fray.
He has no longing to rehearse that gory
And most dramatic act, or wars dark play.

He who to love has always been a stranger,
All unafraid may linger in your spell.
My heart has known the warfare, and its danger.
It craves no repitition - so farewell.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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What The Moon Does to You

at night the moon simply does
what is expected from it naturally
as you stand
it is showing you
your own
shadow
afraid that you may see the whole
truth
which in some details may be
gory
it simply casts you
in the general view
of a man from
a distance
a silhouette
with fingers less the nails
a face
without eyes
nerves
lifted from the darkness
of your skin

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hymn 43

Oh father high in heaven -- smile down upon your son
Whose busy with his money games -- his women and his gun.
Oh jesus save me!
And the unsung western hero killed an indian or three
And made his name in hollywood
To set the white man free.
Oh jesus save me!
If jesus saves -- well, hed better save himself
From the gory glory seekers who use his name in death.
Oh jesus save me!
I saw him in the city and on the mountains of the moon --
His cross was rather bloody --
He could hardly roll his stone.
Oh jesus save me!

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The war

An invisible black hiatus of sadness,
An eerie silence as an immense void,
No beacon of hope in this sad badness,
Hate leaving many spaces destroyed,

Bloody war taking up too much space,
Victims stumbling on a rocky path of life,
Curving fates shyly lifting with sad grace,
Quantum love trying to dissipate the strife,

Cold death keeping the ideology of war,
Winners covering themselves with glory,
Dramatic consequences trying to ignore,
Their thinking becoming increasingly gory.

poem by Marieta Maglas
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Ritual Ram

Bathed in final sweat of his blood
A sickle above ready to wreath
To the breath-taking holy din
He bleats with gory eyes
Whilst his soul
All set ready to soar
To the bloody god
Heaving the sinful globe of heavenly prayers..
Human tears bleed vows for atonement

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Is The Light Glowing?

IS THE LIGHT GLOWING?

They took it from the moonfaced
Our clans’ men
Through an inky war
Ink and voice their warfare

Unduly the light was taken over
This time gory
Some gloomy
Another they staged, taking over

Yet some inter-freedom wanted
From barking - to shelling
No victor or vanquish
However, some knew better

The light again took
Until 1’99 uncle brought it
Sorry...gave it to him
Well, we still hope

The light still glows
Does it?

poem by Magnus Amudi
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I Am Alone

I am alone in the association of humans,
I am the only one with the soul to be distressed.
Heavy illness mingles with the waters,
The sea-life and the home-life shall never differ.
They say the bridge to eternal places
Knot their ways to the universe.
Horror and more horror is managed
By the sick and gory, the sicker enemy.
The human’s body wrecks itself when sick
As the disease is spreading faster than before.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

An Alternate Battle Hymn

Related quotes

Knife

A Soilder’s Anguish

The worst morning gift one can get

Went To War

Premeditation

Billys 'Square Affair

Survieor of suicide

Easter.

Tell Me A Story

Tell Me A Story

Sonnet Eyewitness

Dire Wolf

The Fighting Téméraire

The Farewell

What The Moon Does to You

Hymn 43

The war

Ritual Ram

Is The Light Glowing?

I Am Alone

En.Citatepedia^®.ro