Beggar
As we draw closer to Remembrance Sunday in black November and all that false praising of the armed services by 'the great and the good' I wrote this poem to show how we really treat those who risk their lives to protect us.
Baffling how he came to be a pauper, he thought,
An ex-serviceman, me, still with an upright back.
Thing is: I never really arrived home. Did I?.
Not a real home. Everything had changed.
Belfast, The Falklands, Belize, Operation Desert Storm,
Afghanistan are with me every day.
An ex-serviceman, me, still with an upright back.
Thing is: I never really arrived home. Did I?.
Not a real home. Everything had changed.
Belfast, The Falklands, Belize, Operation Desert Storm,
Afghanistan are with me every day.
Like many men who wore the uniform Jim is reluctant to see a doctor
“I’ll be reet” he says, “after a bit.”
Where he served there were No-go, No Irish, No squaddies areas
The Falls, Free Derry, Shankhill, South Armagh, Newry
Where the Armalite, the gun,, was yer only man,
“I’ll be reet” he says, “after a bit.”
Where he served there were No-go, No Irish, No squaddies areas
The Falls, Free Derry, Shankhill, South Armagh, Newry
Where the Armalite, the gun,, was yer only man,
The Sally army bloke tells me now:
“Yeah, a room, y’know, a home, your only real security.”
‘Doesn’t know me name,’ he thinks, ‘fuck him’.
“Yeah, a room, y’know, a home, your only real security.”
‘Doesn’t know me name,’ he thinks, ‘fuck him’.
In his head he’s already out on the street again
Not stuck in a room that drains the life out of him.
And anyway, she moved out decades ago,
Wanted to settle down, build up some memories.
He wished he could escape from his memories.
Not stuck in a room that drains the life out of him.
And anyway, she moved out decades ago,
Wanted to settle down, build up some memories.
He wished he could escape from his memories.
PTSD the nurse had said. Don’t know what that is.
The images he has in his head, are still massively aflame .
And yeah a few years earlier he was a hero
But now, he was told by the bloke from the Legion,
That he needs to be careful; blokes being done for obeying orders
Being put on trial for using a gun..
The images he has in his head, are still massively aflame .
And yeah a few years earlier he was a hero
But now, he was told by the bloke from the Legion,
That he needs to be careful; blokes being done for obeying orders
Being put on trial for using a gun..
Plenty of unknown soldiers he thinks, like me,
Some take to the drink, others take their own lives.
His brain is a- flame with all he knows,
And the leg where he was shot
Hurts like fuck.
Some take to the drink, others take their own lives.
His brain is a- flame with all he knows,
And the leg where he was shot
Hurts like fuck.
He has layers over his heart, like his blankets.
Down there, inside, there are levels too,
Levels of pain, of memory too,
Like the medals he once wore,
Sold, given away, lost, stolen.
Gone.
Down there, inside, there are levels too,
Levels of pain, of memory too,
Like the medals he once wore,
Sold, given away, lost, stolen.
Gone.
?si=gKlKhszrbzeJSXIk
John Marks
Mon 9th Oct 2023 20:49
Thank you Stephen.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them. LAURENCE BINYON (1914)