During the time of war,
They used to hold together,
Each other, those who call themselves to
Be Mature.

They used to stagger because of blood,
Liquid, and rum; seeing
The enemy fall upon a flaw, crashing
With a thud.

Hustling, bustling, of the long
Mess hall, that clatter containment;
Food was a lullaby to them; the molecules adorned
With Song.

The japing jest of quiet nights,
Life amongst them; game as it was,
Sinking to pure turns of fate; they seldom had too contemplating
Of house fights.

The caldron of lemon and green,
Dark patches of nature, they called
Upon. Hands never quivering, made of
Sheer preen.

Orders, every night, were given to comply
But their hearts knew of the summons of greater depth;
They knew the forthcoming of many hindering a battle; the red to be left
To Dry.

The day came and went, do some say;
Their minds denied of eccentric gestures,
Refused to lose control; marching on and on,
The same way.

Losing a soldier was sad,
Disheartening, diligent of delegate notions
As it was; fear didn’t ripple in any, they didn’t think
Of could have had.

It wasn’t just one; it was all
That same day, when the sun turned red,
And the water alike; I heard it wasn’t a loss to be
Called small.

The story tells of one for all, and all for one
It says they grew tired of protecting and holding together;
But, truth be said, jostling jealousy with malevolence protruded
To shun.

They were contained of those flaws, were hamartias together;
His way better than the other, never said Jesus.
Never did they help each other, when violence and Satan himself
Called hither.

It was a masquerade of truth and love,
No brother, no sister; none of the great words
Mattered; for they had said they were helpless, guided through
By Above.

In the name of comrades, they died;
Or so was said after. People believed everything,
For they had all the reasons in the world, all the sincerity
To Hide.

Separate went the ways after that. Lies,
And honour was rewarded to the corpse; they
Had tried, said one; the ménage of us
Was hues and cries.

I don’t think thou art a clue,
For this was not of wars and tales I told,
It was not of false accusations, for soldiers never give up
On themselves and others, never cheat and
Play deceit;
For none of this happened to them,
But to me and you.
And to all our virtues.


7 thoughts on “Warfare

  1. Honestly?
    I don’t have anything to say this time. The way you put forth everything that happens “after” being gone is perfect. I had to read it twice to grasp the nitty-gritty of the whole work.
    Well done, love.

    Liked by 1 person

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