Words That Will Never be Said
J. Martinez
Tree branches cracked, falling around him.
It was 7.62 bullets that did the trimming,
As he took cover behind the trunks of trees,
Returning fire with daylight dimming.
The trees would have cried in pain.
That... moreWords That Will Never be Said
J. Martinez
Tree branches cracked, falling around him.
It was 7.62 bullets that did the trimming,
As he took cover behind the trunks of trees,
Returning fire with daylight dimming.
The trees would have cried in pain.
That is, if trees could communicate.
After living so long in a war torn land,
Oh, what stories those trees might elaborate.
Some of the enemy saw war with Russians,
When there were buried mines and poisoned water.
Now they fought Americans,
Some becoming the victims of slaughter.
The enemy used old Russian weapons.
If only those old guns could speak of hell,
Like they yell at the American infidel,
Oh, what stories they might tell.
Buildings made of mud, sticks, and straw.
The enemy used these buildings for cover.
They also use trees, as well.
They’ll even hide behind a child and mother.
The mud structures know war throughout history.
It’s too bad the walls cannot say.
Covered in grenade damage and bullet holes,
Oh, what tales those walls might portray.
Blood spilled makes the green grass grow.
That’s what an infantry soldier was made to know.
Afghanistan has seen more blood than most,
Yet there is little grass to show.
Blood in earth must only feed the trees.
But the ground was silent when his fate was sealed.
If only the earth spoke of the blood it’s drank.
Oh, what secrets the earth might have revealed
His platoon took cover behind trees, as well.
All of them willing to risk their lives.
Many were single soldiers from the barracks.
Others had left behind children and wives.
His blood was now added to the Afghan soil.
He was silenced by the bullet to his head.
If only he could have spoke one last time.
Oh, what words he might have said. less
The rain came down like Noah's flood, making the ground outside thick with mud,
As I stood under the cover just inside the door... moreThe Storm
The rain came down like Noah's flood, making the ground outside thick with mud,
As I stood under the cover just inside the door frame.
The dark garage lit by lightning flashes, the orange glow of my cigarette asshes.
I stood oblivious of a...
The Storm
J. Martinez
The rain came down like Noah's flood, making the ground outside thick with mud,
As I stood under the cover just inside the door frame.
The dark garage lit by lightning flashes, the orange glow of my cigarette asshes.
I stood... moreThe Storm
J. Martinez
The rain came down like Noah's flood, making the ground outside thick with mud,
As I stood under the cover just inside the door frame.
The dark garage lit by lightning flashes, the orange glow of my cigarette asshes.
I stood oblivious of a presence with no name.
I stared outside, but the storm left nothing to see,
Similar to the events ahead of me.
I pondered my current course of destiny, wondering if the world would kill what's left of me.
Will the world leave me with bullet holes and without a purpouse?
I prayed, pleaded, and insisted, with any god that might have existed
Unaware of someone slithering across the oil stained surface.
Should I stick to the life I know, or leap into unknown, instead?
Or blow the brains out of my head?
I blew smoke into the downpour, my bare feet planted on the cool garage floor,
And knew I was but a man before a world waiting to devour.
But my life was no exeption, and I'd lost any kind of direction.
I was still clueless of the being creeping towards me in the midnight hour.
Unwilling to stay, and unwilling to explore what I didn't know,
I felt there was nowhere I could go.
I flicked the butt into inches of water, questioning the universe a moment longer,
When I felt slick skin wriggling on the dirt stained floor.
Surprised, I leaped back and stared in awe at the largest black snake I'd ever saw.
A lightning flash revealed eyes that bore into my core.
The being rose until our height was the same.
He spoke my name.
His voice spoke into me over the rain, a sound which I still struggle to explain.
I cannot quote word for word the scripture from the forked tongue,
"Step into the storm and travel far, or you will never understand who you are..
"In the rain where it cannot be seen, purpose hides among.
"Standing here where you've always been, avoiding the reach of rain,
"There is little you will gain."
A lightning flash lit his black scales, revealing all snake-like details.
He slunk through the doorway, disappearing beneath the flood,
Probably leaving the world of men, and I never saw the snake again.
But the message remained, fused and intwined in my blood.
The rain poured and lightning crashed.
I knew what to do at last.
I stood a moment in the present, the air filled with rainwater scent,
Where I had held all the wrong parts of my past for far too long.
A lightning flash lit the garage wall, a shovel, chainsaw, childhood baseball.
I took a step towards the rain, now suddenly twice as strong.
I let the flood swallow me, on a course of destiny, the last day anyone ever saw me.
Who I used to be. less
Always a bunch of posts of people complaining about dating and relationships. Look I can fix all of your little heart break problems right now. Y'all should just start a group and date each other. MAYBE have weekly gangbangs. Then you can stop... moreAlways a bunch of posts of people complaining about dating and relationships. Look I can fix all of your little heart break problems right now. Y'all should just start a group and date each other. MAYBE have weekly gangbangs. Then you can stop complaining on hard dating is and how lonely you feel every 20 minutes. less
Vergil612
It's that thing that replaces peace and quiet with a whole human being that follows you around and says stuff. Then you follow them around and say stuff. It's very bizarre to see.
November 12, 2020
BrianOmen
I have people that play spy games on me and talk to each other. They hate when I confront them. They get nervous. Is that dating?
November 12, 2020
Vergil612
Hmm. I don't know. But I heard people get nervous before "asking out" and asking someone to "toss your salad" I don't know what that means, but it's probably one of those two.
Living Dead
J. Martinez
Summer bugs splattered on the crown vic windshield.
Driving on the same old roads, around the same old town.
The wind always ruffled her pretty honey blond hair
When we hit the back roads with the widows down.
We were always on... moreLiving Dead
J. Martinez
Summer bugs splattered on the crown vic windshield.
Driving on the same old roads, around the same old town.
The wind always ruffled her pretty honey blond hair
When we hit the back roads with the widows down.
We were always on the way to the same old spot.
The same old weekend fun, drugs and booze,
Two lost souls, dead far too long before their time.
It was a repetitive life, but it was all we would choose.
She rode passenger with her arm resting in the window,
Seemingly at peace as a body riding in a hearse.
At times, she could have passed for a living person,
But there was always a bottle or pipe hidden in her purse.
I knew little of the abusive past she'd come from,
But I was disturbed by what little history I did know.
Whatever all had happened to her, it was clear
That someone had killed her a long time ago.
Sometimes I thought she might drink herself to death,
Chasing shots of liquor with a tall-boy can of Miller,
But death was far from ever being concern of hers,
Because someone, somewhere had already killed her.
I gave her money, love, support, and all my time,
And even when I slept, she was always in my head.
But everything I gave her never seemed to revive her,
And her heart never beat, and she remained the living dead.
Rarely I got to see her momentarily sober and clean,
But the lack of uppers was only for a short while.
I'd tell a joke, play a prank, try out a dance move.
I did whatever I could do if it meant she would smile.
Sometimes when she'd laugh I'd catch a glimpse of life.
Life burried somewhere inside her neautiful corpse.
Then the smile would fade to a sad, distant look,
And I'd wonder what she's thinking when her mind warps.
Her pretty lips would wrap around the mouth piece.
The rock inside the glass made a sound that crackles,
And her sad, distant look would fade to no expression,
As she found it more comfortable to live in her shackles.
So many times I watched her flick flame to her pipe.
Watching her dead before me, gradually helped me see
She was the only one who could raise herself from the dead,
And the only person I could bring back was me. less
battleangel
So I finally allowed my nearly 15 year old watch South Park. He has been binge watching over 20 years of episodes and now gets the South Park quotes that kiltboy and I drop all the time. It's been a trip down memory lane for me and a lot of laughs.
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