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#06 (World War III) The Heavy Price Paid
by Jersey D GibsonACTIVATE HISTORICAL FEEDS
Numbers
I swear they are just numbers...
numbers of me, numbers of you.
Voices
try not to listen to the voices...
they plead and beg for mercy.
Sanity
dare not question my sanity...
it was used up long ago.
Welcome my son,
welcome to the machine...
Feelings
Feelings have long since died...
so numb inside, so cold on the out.
Morals
tell me again what a moral is...
and please speak over the screams.
Pain
I could tell you all about pain...
it has infected me, it's all I know.
Into the darkness,
I'll hold on, not knowing at all...
The dice is cast
the stage is set
the man has come
the time is here.
The bombs have fallen
the bullets have fired
the fires have died
the price is paid...
Silence
all I want in my dreams is silence...
someone stop this endless war.
Breaking
existing beyond the breaking point...
what is holding me together?
Damaged
damn, I am damaged for life...
unable to survive.
Have I changed so much?
Don't say no, I'll soon know...
Blood
please let the blood wash from my hands...
they mark all I've done.
Hate
I taste hate in with every breath...
it came easy with every trigger pull.
Death
all I see and know is death...
I have become.
I'm a monster, walking these streets,
doing whatever it takes to get to you...
The dice is cast
the stage is set
the man has come
the time is here.
The bombs have fallen
the bullets have fired
the fires have died
the price is paid...
The end of the beginning of the end...
DEACTIVATE HISTORICAL FEEDS
01/21/2010
Posted on 01/21/2010
Copyright © 2024 Jersey D Gibson
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 01/21/10 at 01:54 PM DEACTIVATE HISTORICAL FEEDS
This, throughout the series, now comes full punch. And frightening. I am convinced you know well of what you speak. |
| Posted by V. Blake on 01/21/10 at 10:05 PM This is a fascinating series you've got going here. As vibrant as darkness can be. |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 01/22/10 at 08:00 AM There are shades of Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer in this...and I love that it is a dark gut punch while also being a frightened introspective...you meld these together very well and I am impressed at how it stays with you after you're done reading it!
Here is a passage from a Mike Hammer novel so you don't think I'm crazy...
"I used to be able to look at myself and grin without giving a damn about how ugly it made me look. Now I was looking at myself the same way those people did back there. I was looking at a big guy with an ugly reputation, a guy who had no earthly reason for existing in a decent, normal society. That's what the judge had said.
I was sweating and cold at the same time. Maybe it did happen to me over there. Maybe I did have a taste for death. Maybe I liked it too much to taste anything else. Maybe I was twisted and rotted inside. Maybe I would be washed down the sewer with the rest of all the rottenness sometime. What was stopping it from happening now? Why was I me with some kind of lucky charm around my neck that kept me going when I was better off dead?" -One Lonely Night (1951) |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 06/22/11 at 02:58 PM Heavy, heavy stuff. The focus here is just dead calm with underlying horror. Congrats on POTD. |
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