Beauty In Pain

Men may argue forever on what wins their wars

And welter in cons and pros

And seek for their answers at history's doors

But the man with the rifle knows.

 

He must stand on the ground on his own two feet

And he's never in doubt when it's won

If it's won, he's there, if he's not, it's defeat

That's his test when the fighting is done.

 

When he carries the fight it's not with a roar

Of armoured wings spitting death

It's creep and crawl on the earthern floor

Butt down and holding his breath.

 

Saving his strength for the last low rush

Grenade throw and bayonette thrust

And the whispered prayer before he goes in

Of a man who does what he must.

 

And when he's attacked he can't zoom away

When the shells fill the world with their sound

He stays where he is, loosens his spade

And digs his defence in the ground.

 

The ground isn't ours till he's there in the flesh

Not a gadget or bomb but a man

He's the answer to theories which start afresh

With each peace since war began.

 

So let the wild circle of argument rage

On what wins as war comes and goes

Many new theories may hold the stage

But the man with the rifle knows.

 

 

 

Author unknown

 

I won a beer for memorising that on Infantry Module 1 : )

Be gone from me, you quiet moon!
Who loves on high, cross not the sky again.
Set in the west, now's not too soon!
Your love, afar, brings naught but pain.

 

Caress my sleeping cheek, you will.
My sleeping tears you'll kiss and still.
I'd rather that you left my night,
For sleeping tears call Aphrodite.

 

My dream awake!  Sit on my mind!
I dream of you, our rendevous.
Wrap me tight, my woes unwind.
I'll in your nimble limbs abide.

 

Kiss me hard, be hot and fair,
To my calm moon I'll be untrue.
I need my days, my love affair.
Moonwashed, my tears, when gone are you.

I never ever thought I'd be,
A living victim;
A refugee.
Cast alone and far from home,
Without a family.

 

"What kind of hell, this foreign land?
My tears are lost in this strange sand.
At home, from sands are towers rising,
The city's safe and so inviting,
An endless catacomb of man."

 

    "A catacomb, ha! That is for sure;
Those giant headstones ride the shore.
Headstones for giants?  No! What is more:
Men shrink to suit the cages they adore.

 

Take a breath!  The air is clear!
And raise your eyes, there's nought to fear!
Those shifting men with drifting eyes,
Those plaques of flashing, coloured lies
Have not the mettle to follow you here!"

 

    "But my desired mettle's their's!
Where gold does glitter, diamonds care.
I cannot stand this empty land,
Where nothing flashes, nought is grand.
Theres nothing here my heart can bear."

 

    "Ay, here is nought and nought is grand.
I'll plant my soul into this sand.
Where lies and troubles, nought and few,
Shall drown each morning in the dew.
Where you shall find no hypocrites
To take your bribes and sign your writs.

 

And here we shall not, all important,
Be self-censored, all impotent.
We shall not here retard out youth,
With pretty pills and plastic tubes!
Here life shall shine and run abundent!"

 

I never ever thought I'd find
A man of a contrary mind.
Truly alone and far from my home,
With one man's heart behind.

I cannot find a girl who has excitement in her eyes,

Who's brow is lined with hopes that now have past their prime and died.

Who's heart will still set sail despite the many times shes failed,

Who's eyes can see beyond her life's horizon.

 

You know I wish upon a star but like my hopes they're very far...

 

Everyone's a cynic and a qualifi-ed critic.

Everybodys been there seen it been it all before.

Wilted like a flower in a sour winter shower,

Love is old before our time and we have all outlived it.

 

Yes, the age of mass production, laser beams and liposuction,

Ushered in a mass reduction of our most romantic dreams...

 

A child's eyes in an ageing mind,

Who knows the lines but doesn't mind

If they get crossed or bent or lost

As in the end we only find...

 

That the most beautiful things in life never really make sense.

... And I was blind...
Not my eyes, but inside, where somewhere, in my mind,
Where somewhere I had thought I could win her love...

 

... until I realised...
That all things have a price:
But what is the price of a love?
What must I do to draw one look from you?
Or one kiss or one touch it's not much...
But so much
-And sometimes all you have
Is just not quite enough...

 

... that the true beauty lies in the eye of the beholder...
So where is my beauty if I cannot now hold her?
Or is it still here, behind the last hopeful tear?
I reach for my wallet again-
What is the price
Of love? 

Wrap me, God,
In loving hand.
Grasp me tight,
Flick off my head.
Upside down in your embrace:
Your words are what I bled.

I'm upside down without a head
I am your humble instrument.
I know that you are God, are right.
I only wonder what you'll write.

With insight, you let the ink
Bleed your pain.
The sky is crying, call it rain.
He's ordering more stationary.
He'll knock off heads,
Again and again.

Close your eyes under the streetlight, safe,

A haven, a halo, for angels.

Away from the noise and the mess we make,

Away from the world's hidden dangers.

 

Electric walls, electric light,

Keep away the frightening night.

Keep away what you can't see.

Keep away the ghosts.

 

Rapists, muggers, home invaders.

Bombers and their orchestrators.

I can't see them

But they're there.

Terrorists and pharmacists.

Death and the apocalypse.

I can't see them, I know,

But they're there.

 

Hold your own hands, safe inside.

Electric walls and frightening night.

 

Asians, blacks and Lebanese.

Rabid dogs and chimpanzees.

I can't see them

But they're there.

North Korea and Japan.

Freddy and the Bogeyman.

I can't see them,

I know,

But they're there.

 

Electric walls, electric light.

Keep away the frightening night.

 

 

There's more monsters in your head,

In your bed,

More underneath electric lights

Than dwell out in your frightening night.

 

 

Goodnight.

Trees become tables.

Lives become fables.

Your brand new shoes are a product of pain.

This bittersweet taste -

Of your profit, our waste -

Left behind in the breeze and the soft acid rain.

Je ne sais pas...
... mais ni l'un ni l'autre faites-vous.

 

Mind Off - TV On.
Baked-Potato-Couch-Moron.

 

Tune in again,
'Signal's coming in strong.
Throw down your roots where they do not belong.
Volume goes up.
It's allure is strong.
Dig yourself in to a world that's gone wrong.

 

Mind Off - Band On.
Jumpy-Stupid-PopHit-Song.

 

Plug it into your ears:
A stream of your fears-
Your own life played back to your head.
The rest, just like you,
They like this song, too.
Dance to the DJ,
Dance to the replay,
Dance till the feedback loop leaves you for dead.

 

Mind On...
What's wrong?

 

Silence-Crying-Silence-Smiling...

 

I searched all the fools
For the most useful tools;
The one I like best is the blade.
My idiot-fixer,
Anti-stupid elixer.
Let's clean up their minds and
Release their insides
Till the debt on this planet is paid.

 

There must be a better way...
Mais je ne sais pas...
Maybe I'll find it some day...
Someday seems so far...

 

I'll leave a message for The Man.
I'll pee a puddle in his plan.
I'll do all a person can
With just a blade and his two hands.

 

(Oh, and a mind)

 

Je ne sais pas...
... mais ni l'un ni l'autre faites-vous...

 

So shut the fuck up.

The golden arches
Are made
Of plastic.
They paint them yellow,
So bright,
To mask it.
And the food that they serve there
Certainly isn't gold.
I find that it's frequently
Old and cold.

 

'The Golden Arches'
Idea
Is chimeric:
'A nobility
To corporate
Greed'.
The food to enslave you:
What, once, did you want
Has become, now,
A 'something you need'.