Red Sand (a poem)
A poem I wrote. It's about war. If you like it, good. If you don't, that's fine.
Boots land
Hard upon the soft sand
Bullets strike the young man
Soldiers make a last stand
Embattled boys grow older
Sagging on the shoulder
As the world smolders
With burnt debris and boulders
As life force slips away
And death insists to stay
Day after sullen day
The music fades away
And men turn 'round
and watch the world burn down
while smoking death machines
destroy our lives and means
Cordite
Produces smoke in the fight
Blackening the dead night
Soaking up the harsh light
Towns and buildings shatter
Guns and helmets clatter
Adding to the patter
Of rain and body matter
Aircraft strafe the ground
And young boys make no sound
As they die, falling down
As they die on the ground
Bodies pile upon
The ground as we carry on
In fighting the enemy
That we can't hear or smell or see
The world starts dying and
We can't stop crying as
Our god keeps lying but
We don't stop trying to
Restore our sanity
Restore humanity
And rid our vanity
Or face insanity
As drums and flutes ring out
As trees and roots sing out
Tanks and troops bring out
A bloody roundabout
of endless death
and every single breath
is lost as the battered sand
turns red with the blood of man.