Untitled

[Trystan]

Another poem, I aint sure about this one but hey:

Heads roll in Iraq, cut off like a potato from the ground;
the stench must be unbearable after a little while.
I roll cigarettes in the park and I got me some wine
for a little while later.

When I see his eyes on his decapitated head, on my little
yellow television a little while later, I see Horror.
He looks at me and He, Horror, He, Humanity, has a grey
Complexion transparent like cigarette smoke

His eyes, his most intimidating feature:
Black red like a dark red wine
rimmed with pearly white jelly
crowned by two demeaning brows.

And they look at me,
and they show me nothing that I haven’t
seen before or won’t see
again.

[sparr0w]

Wow. This one is dark, to say the least. I like it, though. Reminds me alot of the earlier works of my favorite poet (personally), Bukowski.
"He looks at me and He, Horror, He, Humanity, has a grey
Complexion transparent like cigarette smoke"...
Not a pretty picture, but then again there's nothing pretty about war (be it across the seas or in your own heart *wink*wink*). All powerful experiences are beautiful and worthwhile, not only the "bright and happy and shiny" ones. Just watch a riot take place. You can either look at the chaos and flames, or you can look at the liberation those people feel at the moment and will never after this day feel again. I am curious as to what motivated you to write this, and glad that you remembered to remind me that you did... Peace, friend- Chris

[Beautifull]

wow...
that is...well...very descriptive first of all, but also...touching-not really in a good way, but one that touches your insides, and teaches you a lesson...

did you experience this?

[blazeofglory]

You have picked up a picture, the verisimilitude of all that happens in a war.