Meat grinder

 

Generals conspire

under the dancing light

of machine gun fire.

Placing their pieces,

little green army toys.

Mowed down

twisted corpses of undead boys.

Twitching their final deathly throes,

insides exposed

to the smoky air.

Still walking. Not yet aware.

 

Is this hell?

Shell after shell.

Whistles and booms.

Strobe light in choking smoke and gloom.

Grim screams moulded on deathly faces,

stretched disjointed modelling clay.

The stench of rot and decay.

 

An honour to fight for your country.

To die in glory. To serve.

To give the enemy what they deserve.

All lies. Decimated lives.

Pulverised. Terrified eyes

The pulping grind.

Desecrated fields

where innocence marched to die.

 

Grinding and shredding.

Bodies feeding the ground

like a hungry animal

It slavishly devours.

Licking its lips

as the meat grinder overpowers.

 

Artillery burial service.

Churning the blood-soaked land,

the scorched ground.

This new hell,

where earthly shells pound

with the lies they sell.

The lies that state,

to die for your country

is a brave and noble fate.

 

 

 

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Kyle

 

 

Late

 

Tick tock, tick tock,

suddenly it stops.

It's 4 am again

or so the clock beside me states.

All I know is its late.

 

Silence. Deathly silence.

Stalks around the room,

stealthily it fills the air

like cotton wool placed deep in the ear.

Absorbing every sound.

Dissolving each noise before it starts.

Dulls every thumping beat of the heart,

every pounding thud. Now just a vibration.

Feels like a million miles from here.

 

Darkness, the creeping darkness.

Hides the monsters that lurk amongst us.

Now my room is the place it resides.

From the darkness, there is nowhere to hide.

You can feel it. Clinging close to your skin.

Icy brushes wear your patience thin

like damp clothing dripping. Chilling.

 

Time, the slow seconds,

bestowing fear.

Time never seems to move

when you are stuck here.

Trapped in this glacial nightmare groove

When the record keeps repeating the same refrain.

Over and over again.

4 am the clock still states.

How can that be. Time smiles in wait.

 

Alone. I know I'm not alone

but I know no-one is home.

I know that no one living is present in my room.

but I feel, I fear hands come near.

I fear, the feel of fingers touching my hair.

Startled. I try to scream.

The whimpering is all that comes

as the clock slowly ticks once more.

I sink into another nightmare dream.

 

 

 

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Every click, every book purchase, every like helps me to keep doing what I love.

 

Peace, Love and Poetry 

 

Kyle

Dusty Rain

 

Buried a thousand old versions of me.

Thousands of gravestones,

lined up, unkept burial plots.

Weathered name etched,

over the landscape they blot.

Previous sketched

versions of the man

that I would be.

Reborn again. Weathered down by history

and the weary downpour of dusty rain.

 

Seen so many past resemblances

fade when they hit the sunlight.

Dissolve into the twilight

and float in the moonlight.

Now isn't the time for sentimentality.

Those old ghosts have to die.

Lessons learnt

from each footstep they took

Lessons learnt from every tear they cry.

Every drop.

like dusty rain from a leaden sky

 

Seen my reflection shatter

into a thousand grains of sand

and each grain explode into atoms.

Now they all start to merge,

blending

until nothing else matters

and a new figure

starts to emerge

from the dusty rain

 

Watched pages

get torn up.

Ripped

from my life's book.

Shredded,

old pages of history.

Words that created me.

Now set on fire,

embers flying again

and images of a new me

float by in the dusty rain.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff 

 

Please follow the link for my books, videos and social media.

 

Every click, every book purchase, every like helps me to keep doing what I love.

 

Peace, Love and Poetry 

 

Kyle