Old Soldier, New War

During the times that have come by, I pray for war to come. Not these new modern warfare. The old kind. Those ones stationed between battle noise and mud trenches. The zipping sounds of mortars, as empty bullet shells illuminate the blood heavy war terrain. Soldier boots marching through old places that were once called new homes.

Yes, I pray night and day. Night and day! Yes, for at night sleep refuses me and tosses me in between my past memories and a future I remain nameless.


These drones are empty vessels. They are transporters of bad news and death. For our souls do hunger for a reason to accept sleep, but no! Not these ones. These silent birds made with fiber like materials only look down, fall flat, and never return up.

Like thin dots silently scattered.

Only if your hands be wide as the oceans floors and you bring them together then one might see how much these dots have cost us.


I grow sick by the hour. Every hour eaten in silence. Every chance taken just to remain still. I grow deeper into my own anger. Madness beckons daringly close ….and I fear I will welcome it back home.

Commander Bull. ENTRY #204881

Battlefront Shagari Sector, Year 2098


Six years of my life
Vanished like the night before
Come morning and the sun’s up
Hear it, hear it
Here comes the pain
Those numbers wasted away
Never to return back to life
As I sit here by the sun
I wonder about my dreams
Possibilities gone with those years
Washed away with the tide before

Six years of my youth dead
Bones and skins: bare soul
Moments transcending my current grief
Fear has no meaning around here
Only an avenue I must walk on

I was born a free one
Though the past has me a slave
Those cube box and filtered waves
Has my way rendered
But I must persevere
For those six years are long gone
Vanished with the night before
Full with lackluster experiences

Come morning, I’m born again
Afresh with a new voice
For all I have are my ink and sweat, both combined