War

And So Is Born a Dog of War

The heat is fast upon my form
It sits in judgement all around
The sweat that drips is wet and warm
And I can’t hear a single sound.

The deafness leaves an empty wake
And bodies lie out ripped and torn
The reapers watch for souls to take
And there seems never time to mourn.

It’s hard to not lay down and die
When all your world is turned to scorn
And in your silent hell you lie
Waiting just to be reborn.

When you wake it’s not to peace
You find yourself so battle-worn
And looking quickly for release
You reach for chains that did adorn.

But nothing keeps you as before
And then your ears are opened wide
And sounds of battle jump to the fore
And you see nowhere left to hide.

And all the monsters rush the hill
They come for me a mighty swarm
I clench my fists in rage to kill
For in a battle I’ve been reborn.

I stand alone without my chains
And look for weapons on the hill
The thunder claps before the rains
And all the earth seems mighty still.

The bloody earth grows full with mud
And mixes hot with all the gore
As lightning flashes overhead
I see the monsters in my war.

Their screams are piercing in the night
I raise a sword over my head
I plant my feet prepared to fight
Knowing that I’ll soon be dead.

But just before the flesh met steel
I heard a horn blown long and clear
And saw the standard of my liege
And there was no more room for fear.

I gave a shout that turned to roar
And hacked and slashed as torches shone
And as I raged in deadly war
I knew that I was not alone.

I heard my master in the fray
Calling me up to the fore
And so I swung with all my might
And so is born a dog of war.

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Struggle (A Song of the Promise of Christmas)

The war drums beat with perfect score
Counting dead and wanting more
They mark the progress lost in time
And at home the bells do chime
The seasons come with gale-spent force
And throats from singing grow quite hoarse
The shouts and cries out from the field
Mix with drums and singing steel
The maidens make their black gowns shine
And tune their strings to keys so fine
The air is thick and loud with care
As the vultures watch and stare
The drum beats seep into the soul
The running feet of young and old
The mighty thunder on the earth
As we hope for second birth.

7:55 AM

Remembering the awful things
Is not so pleasant now
But once upon a beach bum’s dream
The planes dropped bombs on paradise.

The tallies rose with every swoop
And dive, and drop, and crash
And paradise became a battle
But no vikings hailed to celebrate.

We remember days gone by
Where all our hope seemed lost
And see our own lives in this light
And weep to count the cost.

A Song of the Women

The old bards are singing their war hero songs

But I can’t believe that the men are all gone

I know that they’re valiant and courageous and brave

But here in the village the silence is grave.

 

So give me your hand and lets fall to our knees

And pray for our heros that they may believe

Let all of our fighters return to their homes

And safely we’ll dwell in the land we once roamed.

 

Now let us be vigilant to hear their steps

The day will arrive and we must dress our best

Not all of our brothers and sons will come home

So we must prepare to wail and to moan.

 

The wood for the pyres is cut and stacked high

The priest is well-tended and waits by and by

Our hearts which have waited are anxious and grim

But we will be steadfast and wait for our kin.

 

So ready your hearts and steady your hands

Do not begrudge those reunited again

Though weeping and wailing we know we must stay

And love our whole village so every day.

 

Come home father and come home son

Speak to us brother as you have done

Watch them o Lord we hope and we pray

And give us our legs for our darkest day.

To My Brothers,

The old men send young men off to war

That’s How it’s always been

They give them weapons and enemies

And tell them to be brave.

 

The young men go away so strong

And come back not the same

They may live life and be someone

But no one gets the blame.

 

But friends and comrades have a way

Of dying in each war

And there is nothing for a soldier to say

For with words he’s taught to be poor.

 

But someone must and usually will

Say something for the dead

Do we know your fear or your courage?

Do we know your strength or dread?

 

The earth is covered with soldiers blood

And it cries to God above

Let us remember your sacrifice

And think of you with love.

 

We know that many were thugs and thieves

Violent aggressive men

But you gave all and we are here

Alive, sipping brandy in the den.

 

We know that many were so afraid

And took so long to die

And we weep for you our brothers

May God take you to the sky.

 

And those that live as broken men

Are hard to love sometimes it’s true

May you find peace even now

You are not alone.

The Bluegrass Festival

When you died,

Was there sand in your boots?

And who cleaned in between your toes?

It must have been really hot out there,

With your brains on the desert sand.

 

I wish that I could have come

And took one in the head

Maybe God would have smiled

And given yours to me instead.

 

I should have gone to that festival

The one out in the sticks

But I knew that everyone out there

Would just get really drunk.

 

But now I wish that I had known

And gone to see you safe

To carry you back into your tent

And take off your boots.

 

I promise I really did like to hear

Bluegrass in the summer months

And I wish that we’d have had more beers

But now you won’t return.

 

But maybe someday we’ll meet again.

Maybe someday we’ll see

I wish I knew a lot of things

About both you and me.