Poem: Experiencing Death

A Poem I wrote in High School. Appropriate for this day.

I am but a young man.

     I am but a young man.

I don’t want to die.

     I don’t want to die.

I will go to school for escape.

     I will face the Death.

I want the Country to help me.

     I want to help the Country.

I go away to learn at school.

     I go away to live in Death.

 

School is so stressful.

     Death is terrifying.

I know I can make it.

     I don’t think I will survive.

I fear nothing at all.

     I fear for my very life.

I curse the Country.

     I fight for the Country.

I read about the Death.

     I live the Death.

I don’t think there is really a Death.

     I cannot escape the Death.

I will never die.

     The Death will swallow me.

 

I drink with friends in happiness.

     I drink alone to forget.

I am completely healthy.

     I am numb with pain.

I am full of life.

     The Death took my life.

I know everything.

     Nobody knows anything.

My whole life is ahead of me.

     My life was left behind.

Here’s to life.

     Here’s to Death.

I am a great man.

     I am a dead man.

 

Memorial Day

Besides writing, I teach High School Social Science. One of the courses I teach is Modern World History, or the history of the world beginning around the time of the industrial revolution. I love the course and I love teaching. The course covers many wars and conflicts including the two world wars. War is destruction.

War has always been a part of human existence. Perhaps it always will be. Few things are more devastating and destructive. It still saddens me to teach: French Revolution, Russian Revolution, Taiping Rebellion, Boxer Rebellion, Sepoy Mutiny, Armenian Genocide, The Great War, World War Two the Holocaust Korea, Vietnam and others. Tens of millions of lives have been destroyed as a function of war and conflicts. The effects didn’t end with just the loss of that person but the damage spread to those who called them family and friend and those in their community. War is destruction.

By the way, I joined the Army immediately out of high school. I served five years. I served honorably. I loved my time in service and I performed well. I love my country. I love and respect other countries. I hate war. Even small wars. War is destruction.

Herman Goering is a Nazi war criminal tried at Nuremberg. He was asked about war. His answer is possibly the more insightful and honest a man who drove the engines of war ever gave:

Goering: Why, of course, the people don’t want war. Why would some poor slob on a farm want to risk his life in a war when the best that he can get out of it is to come back to his farm in one piece? Naturally, the common people don’t want war; neither in Russia, nor in England, nor in America, nor for that matter in Germany. That is understood. But, after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy or a fascist dictatorship or a Parliament or a Communist dictatorship.

Gilbert: There is one difference. In a democracy, the people have some say in the matter through their elected representatives, and in the United States only Congress can declare wars.

Goering: Oh, that is all well and good, but, voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are going attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.

It’s a sad truth. Human institutions cannot be better than those who create them. War is the mirror that exposes how awful we can be. War is destruction.

So on this day,  a day to remember those who we lost as a result of war, I salute you who were lost and I drink a drink to remember you. Your loss is not in vain as long as those of us still alive remember your sacrifice. I wish you were here with us now to enjoy the bittersweet taste of memory. Cheers to the fallen, may your memory endure forever.

TBT: Poem…Satan’s Welcome

Wow! Totally hadn’t seen this poem I wrote in High School for probably near 20 years. Totally forgot about it. I’m a little impressed with teenaged me taking on something this dark.

Water floods and drowns a soul that is now extinct.

Running from a storm; fear reduces man to instinct.

Hell beckons, for a new tenant is always welcomed happily.

Paralyzed, the body cannot run from the grasp of destiny.

Klaus calls your name from a list he tightly clutches.

Crying desperately as it’s you that fate touches.

A glass of wine as the devil’s servants observe his art.

Fingers squeeze the last drops of blood from your vacant heart.

Poem: Glory

Dark clouds are carrying gloom

Impending storm will hit soon

Brace for it if you so choose

Or ignore it and reap doom

The storm will come for us all

Weak or strong we all will fall

Some close their eyes and cower

Swallowed by the dark power

Too many let the end come

Against darkness, darkness won

All die, all will expire

Disappear in the mire

We can stand tall, heads held high

When death’s call is drawing nigh

Or hang our heads for the blade

Grab a shovel, dig the grave

One will pass weak and broken

Soul empty and eyes swollen

Another singing glory

Dictating one’s own story

Poem: To the Fallen

Signature
Empires rise and fall like tides,
Forgetting those that died.
To defend nation and honor,
Protect the sacred color.
Flying above our heads high,
History written in the sky.
The stars witness the carnage,
Humanity at its darkest.
Waging war against fellow man,
Divided into tribal clans.
Brave warriors stood on the field,
And many refused to yield.
Blood spilt and lives were taken,
So many men were forsaken.
For causes unjust or hopeless,
They fought nonetheless.
Some even achieved victory,
With loud blast from artillery.
While others were badly beaten,
Corpses on the field abandoned.
Even those we celebrate today,
For dying to keep evil at bay.

Battle of Beasts

A fantasy writer’s metaphor for the conflict in Charlottsville

The charred-wood arena was located in a remote land; far from the regulating eyes of the legionnaires. The fights that were held there were illegal, but also the most fantastic of all, and so many risked arrest and banishment to travel to the hidden site, beyond the woods and carved into a mountain, as legend has it, by dragon’s fire. Indeed the rock jutted inward from the otherwise regular contour of the mountain in jagged edges and teeth-like points. The arena itself appeared somewhat like the snarling mouth of a serpent snapping at its prey. In its throat monsters and men battled to the death.

The arena was run by despicable men. Men who cared nothing about right or wrong, only about money and prestige. They profited off the deaths of heroes and slaves, champions and beasts. They did not value life in the least; only coin and fame. With this goal in their hearts, they captured or lured many types of souls with promises of mercy for their families or wealth for their pockets, yet most promises went broken. Still, the bouts did not go unfilled and the seats did not remain empty. Many gathered for glory, entertainment and wealth.

This particular evening there was a fascinating match. The owners of the arena managed to capture an ogre and pit the foul beast against a troll, and equally disgusting creature. Both were very strong yet also heinous. All were intrigued by the fight which was about to begin.

A pair of men, who placed bets of the opposing beasts sat next to one another with goblets of ale apiece. Each were officials from a nearby kingdom; lofty in position and authority. Though the arena was forbidden, they did not hesitate to participate in such sport, confident that the regulation did not apply to those meant to enforce such social constraints. They delighted in the spectacle and enjoyed seeing the hoi paloi risk their lives for a small purse of coins. Their names were Lords David and Vanne.

Lord David, smile beaming across his face leaned over to Lord Vanne who he was already very familiar with and stated with confidence, “This troll will defeat the ogre easily! I’ve put much gold on that! It will be a glorious battle!”

Lord Vanne grimaced, “I wouldn’t be so sure. The ogre is a savage creature. Deadly. I put my coin on him.”

“You know nothing,” David scoffed, “Trolls are ancient creatures. They’ve roamed the lands murdering and destroying peasants since before civilization. They’ve lasted this long, they’ve learned to survive anything. This orge is no match.”

“You are ignorant in the ways of ogres, clearly,” Vanne countered, “Ogres are stronger and more savage. While the history of them is shrouded in mystery, their results speak for themselves. None can best them. The ogre will tear the troll limb from limb.”

As they debated the virtues of the beasts, the monsters were released from their cages and set loose in the arena. For moments they were confused, each looked about and saw all of the spectators. Each howled at them and roared with stinking breath detectable throughout the circle. All held their breath and coughed trying to escape the stink of the combatants. With attendants pushing the beasts with poles and trying to anger them, they finally noticed the other. They did not hesitate to attack, each recognizing the danger in his opponent.

The foul creatures rushed toward the center and collided as two boulders sending an earthquake throughout the arena and a deafening crack like the snapping of a giant trees. Each monster howled in pain as bones broke in the collision. Undeterred they attacked further through a grapple. They bit and clawed and kicked at one another.

Blood, spit, hair and teeth were flying in all directions as the two hideous creatures battled for their very lives. Meanwhile, the crowd roared in approval.

Lord David was confident his favored monster, the troll, was winning. “You see this Vanne, you fool? The troll is the better beast by far! Surely he will win!”

“You must not be watching the same fight,” Vanne replied, “It appears to me that the ogre is much more powerful. There is conviction in his attacks. The troll will succumb to his savagery any moment.”

“Nonsense!” bellowed Lord David. “Your ogre is done for. Trolls cannot die except by fire. The ogre will never prevail.”

The lords yelled at the top of their lungs at one another trying to convince each that they were correct to back their particular brand of monster. Neither budged but stubbornly held their convictions.

The ogre and troll grappled with equal strength, each unable to manipulate the other into submission. Both monsters dug deep into their pain and anger and battled on. As they struggled for control of their enemy the troll tripped and stumbled backwards. In his fall, however, he pulled the ogre with him and threw the beast with all his might into the side of the arena.

The monster crashed through the wall separating the spectators from the combatants and several who were cheering on the battle were injured. Screams of terrified mortals filled the air as the ogre, confused and blinded by hatred, clawed and punched those near him. One by one he murdered those men who moments earlier cheered him or his opponent on. They were not as gleeful now that they were part of the fray.

Guards with spears sped into the arena, some to block the troll, who regained his footing, from engaging the ogre any longer, others to try to coax the ogre from his attacks on the crowd.

The ogre would no be deterred. He relentlessly attacked those around him and the number of dead rose quickly with blood and limbs spraying from the epicenter of the attack. The heinous monster left a trail of death as he moved through the fleeing crowd.

The troll was mollified for a moment as the spears thrust at him gave him pause, but he was far too angry and hateful to be calmed by a few guards and when he backed against the wall he looked up and decided he could leap upon in. With a roar and a mighty jump, the troll bound to the top of the protective wall and stared down the helpless crowd. He hopped off the wall and into the crowd of people and tore through them like he evil counterpart did on the opposite side of the arena. All were in peril.

Lord David blamed the ogre, “Your stupid ogre caused this mess! Now look at what’s happened! People are being murdered by that dull monster and you were naive enough to support him.”

Naturally Lord Vanne saw the scene very differently, “You imbecile! That hideous troll you so brazenly backed threw the ogre into the crowd. It is the troll’s fault that these people are dead.”

The Lords continued to argue about who’s fault it was and who was misguided in their support of their respective monsters. Meanwhile the evil beasts murdered any they could get their claws on, included the pair of lords who did not have enough sense to flee when danger approached. They were more concerned with blaming one another than saving their own lives. In the end, dozens were murdered and the beasts escaped and fled into the night.

Kings denounced both beasts eventually and passed decrees outlawing such arenas and the beasts they forced to fight therein. But alas, little changed. The charred-wood arena was rebuilt and once again was a place for the hopeless to seek fame and fortune. Others like it thrived across the land. All the while ogres and trolls roamed the countrysides murdering peasants and destroying towns.