Decaying corpses, unique stench
With cordite blowing, past our trench
I no longer hear the warning rattle
But smell and taste impending battle

In the distance sounds a Lewis Gun
Maybe aimed at some unlucky Hun
So far in front of our barbed wire
Amongst the brown serrated mire

The Corporal said this place was ‘Wipers’
Mud and blood and German Snipers
The Sergeant Major called it Ypres
...

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Unguarded

Bombarded

Quick! Hurry!

Retreat!

Before she sees

Build up a wall

Be careful not to fall

Its just too much to bare

Yes, I know its unfair

But I can't

I just.....

I can't! 

If I were to take a wrong turn

If I were to get burned

I don't think I could go on

See, I thought I had the one

Really, truly

She hurt me brutally

I could have sworn...

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It was January

She let the freezing ocean cover her naked spirit

Its bottomless darkness could potentially kill her

Still she knew that it was only by facing death

that she would discover life.

ida

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The ghost that flitters through your sleepless night

may be fully alive in another’s  daytime sight,

for the dimensions where they appear as a wisp

may not be the same as that where they’re kissed…

Imagine if your mind is ready for this notion just yet

that the ghosts which you see are not dead for I bet,

what you see is merely a slim projection coming from

another di...

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The whistle blows to sound the charge

and over the top they bustle and barge,

covered from head to toe in mud

and soon tainted with flesh and blood.

Up the ladder with slippery rungs,

a scream of rage from terror filled lungs,

adrenalin coursing through every vein

with the fear of not coming back again.

Knee-deep mud sucking boots from feet,

tangled in barbed w...

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How brave, in reality, is a ‘brave face’?

A facade shared, it would seem,

by the majority of the human race.

Beneath the flaking paint of a painted mask

lies a truth too long and painful to explain

no matter how oft you care to ask.

How long before the cracks become too wide

to conceal with powders and creams

and the crimson smile starts to slide.

How long...

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There in the corner of the black beneath my bed

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I am noise and thought,
I am not who I ought.
I am freedom,
I am fight,
I am the smallest glimpse of starlight,
In the deepest, darkest, stormy night.
Because of fear,
I am,
In spite of fear,
I thrive,
The death of hate and ignorance,
Is what keeps me alive.
I speak for the minority,
A voice for words feared spoken.
With ink and web,
My words are spread,
And your weak bullets are b...

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