in the bones

Fri, 10/26/2018 - 16:00 -- asvensk

I

In angry lines they crawl along the road

The blood and sweat drenching their worn soles,

Their barracks built with bullet holes

Now walk the soiled highways home

Another mile on broken bones

Dead men born on dreams in loam

 

Smokestack stones mark spilling pits

Friendly fire counterfeits

Scared corpses signed by rusty pins

Still paying for their father’s sins

 

But woe, to reach the hallowed 'bode

The ruins of their cities old

The Empty frames of family homes

What a waste of life you’ve grown

 

The Silence crumbles what the bombs left whole

 

Der Krieg ist vorbei,

der Tod hat gewonnen,

 

Retching into empty hands that carry all they own,

No one ever wins the war that’s written in their bones.

 

II

Pacifists in pigeon holes

Protesting human coals

With rifle ideology and blasting cap naivete,

March lines over the corpses three

Of life, and love, and liberty

 

This war isn’t over

Their sons are still dead

With War paint of bile and Mouths full of lead

In uniform coffins last words left unsaid

 

Crawl along my darling,

Crawl along my son,

Hells gates are open

Heaven's bell is rung

Where bullets fly eternal

And the heating bill is free

Where, the children of the ashes

Never admit defeat

 

Der Krieg ist vorbei,

Vergib mir meinen ohne.

 

It’s crushed on their altars

It’s stained in their souls

Watching from the shadows

It is carved in the bones

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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