Warring Poems #7-10

First, happy birthday to August babies! My research roommate turned 21 August 3, another friend of mine turned 16 August 9, a really good friend in the Navy is turning 25 today, so Happy Birthday (DL), my brother is turning 19 August 21, and mom’s birthday is August 29!

So for my 20th post I decided to post more of my Warring poems. Funny story, I am not a math major; as a matter of fact while math and I get along sometimes, but for the most part we ignore each other. I say this because the last Warring Poems 1-5  actually had six poems not five. My mistake, but hey you got to enjoy an extra poem earlier!

So to make it fair here are poems 7, 8, 9, and 10- maybe 11 if math chooses not to be available for this post!

Remember we are warriors and we have been warring since birth. So a cheer to us: the warriors that keep going even when the battles have been lost. We will win the war!


“Last  Promise”
You were right;
Words are cheap.
Listening and believing were my mistake.
False truths
Empty hopes.

You were right;
Words are cheap
But here’s what’s not
My goodbye
Yours was the last promise

“Squares  and Circles”
They’re really the only things
I can draw,
And really the only thing I need.
With them…
The states of matter
Seize to matter;
Liquid and solid mix
Solid and gas combine
Liquid and gas are one.
Everything and nothing – equal.
Squares and circles
Boxes and eyes
Eyes in a box
Locked with the key thrown away
To keep the tears of truth from seeing the light of day.
Squares and circles
A cage and a world
A world in a cage.
Locked with the key thrown away
To keep the hope from escaping.
Squares and circles
Circles in squares
I doddle more than truth and hope
I doddle their imprisonment.

It’s that time again,
Facing the same event
Over and over
Only each over ten times worse.
Same thing time and time again
Acting the same then complaining of the results.
Do I make anything make sense?
Why not murder the hope of happiness
And become immortal like the author?
Why not destroy the insanity of love
Why not be sane like me?



“Combat Zone”

My mind is not my home;

It’s a combat zone,

Where I feel nothing and everything;

Lock and load the post-traumatic stress.

It’s okay to feel nothing

When you feel a lot.


Combat Zone

My mind is not my home;

It’s a combat zone,

Waking up more dead than alive.

The images on replay

Put my life on delay.


My mind is not my home;

It’s a combat zone,

Lock and load the syndrome.

I’m ready for the relapse.

I’m ready for the collapse.






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