The Plundering Tide

 
Freight cars rain
Scattering plumes
Rich, with lives well-squandered

As nightfall dwindles
Beneath their endless
Arching cries

There are no sirens
Only a great span of silence
And the plundering tide
Brought forth, by eager hands

Havoc ascends
In murderous clouds
Heaven-bent
For their heinous jobs well-done

As tattered lives
Cleave to vengeance
Simmering with the hatred
Of legions, floundering
Within the waves of grief  

Fire-Bred Travelers

 
The days choked
Upon the great plumes of savagery
Cast out
By the furious and frightful

Lionhearts withered
In the shrill cries of ordinance
Scattering, impaling
All brazen, fire bred travelers

With sharp eyes
Forever swallowed
Beneath the leagues
Of unsparing silence

The careless thrash
Of brother and foe
Is buried deep
In the soils of home

Beyond the waves
True chaos thrives well
Nestled, beneath the skin

As the cruel ravager
Of a quiet
Blissful slumber

Ironclad Fighters

 
Falling salvos
Pummeled me with bare fists
And the earth danced wildly
Colors mingling
As I caved with haste

Forward I tumbled
Coursing with peril and shock
My bones still thundering
Ringing
As the curtains were drawn

Nightfall was brief
As I struggled to ascend
Reclaiming my resolve
To seize the faltering day

Like deafening howitzers
My arms slaved onward
Blazing with vigor
Toiling, upon mangled flesh

We were the ironclads
Consigned to our time
Boiling over
With primal hatred

We were the ironclads
Hopelessly marooned
To an isle
Preserved, only in mind

The Quiet Earth

 
Will the world hoist high
Its shredded banners?
Raised proudly to waft
In the foul gusts of war
Once again

For our corners of home
For the gallant forebears
That stormed sure and bold

Carnage prevails
Time after time
And no one dares recall
Never sparing a second of remorse

When the winds howl
In the final uprooting
Will clarity taunt
Our fleeting cries?

A quieter earth shall turn
In spite of
The many that were  

The Iron Gates of Havoc

 
At the hoisted day
Stomach’s churned
In the permeating oil
Salt air and salvos

The sputtering engines
Grew to their murderous drone
Wading steadily
For the iron gates of havoc

Below their toil
Hushed words prevailed
Clamoring for the skies
Through thick plumes of black

Beyond the raging tides
The iron gates sprung forth
And Neptune’s dark overture
Swallowed, young fortitude whole

What Passes with Thee?

 
What passes with thee
In your hellish burden?
In the lofty quest
That must transpire

Infernal hours loom
Before triumphant plumes
Laden,with premonitions
Of shrill,unsparing havoc

May the blood course freely
Born from stoutest hearts
Full with young vengeance
Armed with fond remembrance

May hardships passed
Cry on faithfully
As echoing ghouls
Stirred conscience
By trembling earth

What passes with thee
Oh heart brimmed with scorn?
Primed and vigilant
At the steady stream of ordinance

What passes with thee
When mayhem takes flight?
To plague timid winds
And coil nature’s resolve

Garbed in Blue

Squawking buzzards
Hang above my rigid frame
Awaiting, with a sickly hunger
Gathering, massing
Thieving of these winter skies

Far gone and bleeding
Where the muskets bore through
Not a whimper in my voice
Not a thought in my skull
I graciously
Die, blissfully unaware

It was a fleeting honor
For the twentieth Maine
Garbed in sacred blue
Bayonets at the ready

We sprang for madness
Shouting to higher glory
As the cannons butchered, and maimed
Sparring not a soul
No fresh face unscathed
I caught my fate
Swift, clean, and painless
Another notch to their belts
Another name, pressed and sold

The Death March

Death,
Drones on and on above
Spanning the great sky
And roaring its creed of devastation

The cities, all howl in despair
As the winged beasts trudge on
Pummeling the jagged lives below

And the fury of hellfire,
lashes forth!
Dashing through the serpent streets
Consuming, and pillaging
Hungering  and ravaging

By the quiet of dawn
Blood lust evaporates
Leaving its trail of carnage
Charred and smoldering
Stripped of its homely spirit

Yet death,
Drones on and on above
Spanning the great sky
Pistons humming and lurking

 How many lives do you think were destroyed by British, American, German, Russian and Japanese bombers combined? Ughh.. I have an unhealthy obsession with the early 1900's to the late 1950's. Since the age of twelve ive been deeply infatuated with military history, especially in the time period i mentioned above.  In other news, my first anthology of poems entitled "Guardian of the Inkwell: A Collection of Ramblings of the Poetic Persuasion" is now available for free at Barnes & Noble.com Link here if you wish to  download or preview: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/guardian-of-the-inkwell-jr-willi-wright-william-l/1113985910

The Widow in Fishnets

 Within earshot of her young
Frolicking among their innocence
Her skull tilts and falters,
captive in her right hand
As she cradles the poison in her left
A liquid prayer,to wash away past evils

She arose a staggering wreck
5'6, mascara and black fishnets
And into her decrepit peace
Stashed away in the worn cupboard
She guzzles the rest
Not relenting a drop
Not even for the rats
Their eyes sunken, in their soon swallowed escape

Within earshot of her young
She cursed and stumbled
Burdened them with hatred
Brewed in His frozen absence
"Little ones, he's homeward bound
Adorned with medals, sea bag and all"

And she evolved
Through the grueling winters
The harrowing springs
The summers flooded with anguish
She evolved, through the brooding autumn
With waning reverence, each fallen November

Within earshot of her young
She is reduced to shards
A final squeeze
And she slumped over billowing with smoke
The blood pools the same,
just as her love before her
Salted by the tears,
overflowing from the once empty glass

 This was sort of random, it just sort of materialized out of nowhere. I was listening this song by one of my favorite artists: St.Vincent http://youtu.be/ByBGgiacuCc and while i was listening to the song i opened Microsoft word and this is what i typed.