Feeling the Ypres wind whisper through my back,
Lingo of dead men long silenced, cracked;
The meaning of life descends as the surface to its shoal,
Clad in sweat and cloth, the husk of a killer over soul;
So close I could touch him, would they grimace or shy?
Would I be painted an outsider; or am I too afraid to try?
soothe the trees;
Embers prematurely spent and love a gulf away,
Given the chance to sleep I wouldn’t dare want to stay.
Long doses of peace return in throbbing, warm waves;
The relief is heavier, but shoes like body are weathered, decayed.
Prayers into curses fester at the tip of our tongue;
They all want you in my arms, not this loaded gun.
The copper whistle lies; a glimpse of false might,
Following the dark river’s cellophane light:
Breathing soon becomes bleeding as the monsters labor on,
Weariness begets peace; your memory I savor, waver… savor;
Come to me–
The poppy shivers in the field, your shoulders arrest my mind,
Your wandering coffee eyes I struggle to remember overtime;
Move me, seek;
Stalls and humility frustrated me– tore the weak seams,
Mulling over another headache, and parched gray dreams;
I’ve never forgot;
Brothers remember and feel these things, I neglect,
Holding another sweetheart in their last dying breaths,
The bickering stall!
The shores erupt in dirt, her white collar begins to fade,
German and Old Contemptibles meet in their home; make it or break!
A green smoke thaws, tattered corpses in line,
Once boys, now husbands: gifts to widows in time;
‘My Children’ He weeps;
I cannot comprehend the betrayal given,
When I stopped another man’s heart,
like mine– passchen driven,