Psychedelics_r_best
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Oct 16, 2004
- Messages
- 2,049
The sun strained through the halls of mist there in the silent morning,
Distant footsteps were heard marching as the meadow larks echoed out their greeting,
Faint shadows flowed across the rolling hills and on toward each other they grew,
Cold fragments of glass condensed on the faces of the old and young,
Marching there that day to reserve the right to speak their own tongue,
Banner men and drummer boys ticked off the time to thoughts adrift floating there in the endless mist,
Cold steel ready to did deep wounds listening to the solemn tunes being held in firm wrists,
And so on they marched with eyes forward and hearts pounding,
Far off universes you could see through their eyes,
Dreaming of places far off with green meadows and blue skies,
But on they marched, their feet crunching against frozen grass,
But none heard the crunching feet except the waiting meadow larks,
For minds were not there that day,
Yet on they marched with glossy eyes, their blood waiting to be set free in the upcoming fray.
No side would give or yield upon the lonely battlefield,
On they fought and death they wrought upon their fellow friends,
No conference hall, or feast or ball would make amends for the soldiers in the fray,
For life was doomed for those caught in the ploom of the darkened sky that day,
But on they fought for land and lord with cannon, shield, knife and sword,
The vultures on air encircled in pairs waiting and quite frankly getting bored,
Rounds and rounds were hurled in vain out into the mists to make new pain,
But for all the men there sane that day not one straight answered in the end what they hoped to gain,
And on and on they so forth fought the vultures growing old,
Their stomachs sold to more promising ways to find food,
But for those in battle down below it began to snow,
Yet on they fought with brain and brawn in hopes they would survive,
To forever grow and thrive.
The sun arose to warm the toes of bodies fallen cold,
Not a sound was heard to pound the ground or trouble any soaring bird,
Glimmering eyes of once proud men now shared the light of a darkened den,
The blood of the dead formed a bed on which for them to lay,
The snow had melted in the warm ocean of red flowing freely out across,
It formed a sheet and out in flowed in tides to meet the bay,
So there that day ten million lives had ended in dismay,
Yet the kin of those fallen bodies there with slightly warmened toes,
Persisted on with brain and brawn to yet find new ways to kill.
Distant footsteps were heard marching as the meadow larks echoed out their greeting,
Faint shadows flowed across the rolling hills and on toward each other they grew,
Cold fragments of glass condensed on the faces of the old and young,
Marching there that day to reserve the right to speak their own tongue,
Banner men and drummer boys ticked off the time to thoughts adrift floating there in the endless mist,
Cold steel ready to did deep wounds listening to the solemn tunes being held in firm wrists,
And so on they marched with eyes forward and hearts pounding,
Far off universes you could see through their eyes,
Dreaming of places far off with green meadows and blue skies,
But on they marched, their feet crunching against frozen grass,
But none heard the crunching feet except the waiting meadow larks,
For minds were not there that day,
Yet on they marched with glossy eyes, their blood waiting to be set free in the upcoming fray.
No side would give or yield upon the lonely battlefield,
On they fought and death they wrought upon their fellow friends,
No conference hall, or feast or ball would make amends for the soldiers in the fray,
For life was doomed for those caught in the ploom of the darkened sky that day,
But on they fought for land and lord with cannon, shield, knife and sword,
The vultures on air encircled in pairs waiting and quite frankly getting bored,
Rounds and rounds were hurled in vain out into the mists to make new pain,
But for all the men there sane that day not one straight answered in the end what they hoped to gain,
And on and on they so forth fought the vultures growing old,
Their stomachs sold to more promising ways to find food,
But for those in battle down below it began to snow,
Yet on they fought with brain and brawn in hopes they would survive,
To forever grow and thrive.
The sun arose to warm the toes of bodies fallen cold,
Not a sound was heard to pound the ground or trouble any soaring bird,
Glimmering eyes of once proud men now shared the light of a darkened den,
The blood of the dead formed a bed on which for them to lay,
The snow had melted in the warm ocean of red flowing freely out across,
It formed a sheet and out in flowed in tides to meet the bay,
So there that day ten million lives had ended in dismay,
Yet the kin of those fallen bodies there with slightly warmened toes,
Persisted on with brain and brawn to yet find new ways to kill.
