We Have Forgotten Our Warriors
Too many preach of the warrior as if their existence is futile in the eyes of change. That bringing weapon against evil is no way to live. But they do not see the tyranny of evil, the cumbersome loses and poison they bring.
Too many have not felt the heat of war, the anger of evil.
Too many have not seen the vision of hell upon earth. The screaming, the dying, the forgotten. The innocent spent as mere pawns to keep a regime thriving like jungles beneath rain.
Too many have not seen the tears of families, wives, sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, upon the death their warrior.
Few have felt the burden of the constant eye to stay alive. To wonder if the sun will rise tomorrow or the moon will cast light in the evening.
Few have stood foot in the lands of evil. Embracing its ugly face, tasting its breath in the heated air.
Few have ever raised up arms in battling those that stand to massacre not only us, but the world.
That stand to bleed every child and woman, every no believer over the coals of death. To push us to fear, to split our hope in two.
Few see the deception of evil that grows in our lands. Evil is being embraced as if its morals are superior.
Yet, many have the gulls to speak of what is right and how one must contribute to those that wish us death.
This world has forgotten the meaning of its warriors and the sacrifice they must give. This world has forgotten the blood that separated us from death. The blood that separated us from tyranny and the sanction of freedom.
Too many upon this earth have forgotten the history our world, of our lands, your lands. They forget by displacing false tongues upon history and lining their thoughts with emotion. Expressing what feels well in the moment. Not thinking of the strength we have grown upon this world.
But following of false tongues they have been given with naive eyes.
They live far from embracing the morals we have learned to create upon the sacrifice of those willing to keep us safe.
Too many have been spoiled upon these lands and giving an idle ideology of life.
Too many have forgotten the warriors shoulders that bear the weight of our safety.
Too many have forgotten the evil that slithers beneath the sands, the grass, the society that is us.
Too many embrace words with ease long before any thought. They spit on their own lands like Satan upon his own.
Forgetting the our warriors is forgetting our morals, our sacrifices, our strength, our beliefs in each other. Forgetting our warriors brings weakness to our lands, our people, our values.
Without raising our warriors we will surely parish and parish it be to the dreams of those who spit upon our lands.
If we have truly forgotten our warriors, who will keep our history safe, who will keep our lands from shifting to the seas, who will protect our dreams, our children, our very existence, if not those willing to run toward the flooding gates of blood?
Popular posts from this blog
I have been writting poetry on medium, does anyone still wish me to write short stories on here?
A Wanderers Inn I have been traveling for thirty days. My horses are weak and I thirst dearly for water. My belly aches as hunger constricts my gut. I am fearful of death in such an unsuitable way. I have always seen myself dying in daring act of life. Be it in war or the saving of a child. Or maybe, even in the defeat of a dragon as I get one last blow with my blade before it strikes me down and it falls to its death beside me. Feeling its last breath of heat roll over my body as our eyes see only our fading souls. I have always thought my death would be glorious. Yet here I am, traveling alone with no more rations, nor water. My horses no longer walk with fervor but lackadaisical steps. And so I pray to find shelter before the cold takes us. Before the empty plains of barren trees and darkness finds us. I wish not to be detritus before my days. Decaying slowly to the maggots as my body lays helpless upon the earth. Becoming a gruesome vision of what lies inside. B
A Crash that Left him Stranded log 1) The plane I was on crashed landed upon an island. I am the only survivor and it has been fifteen days. The only lucky thing of this is not all the food burned up in the crash. But I did not go unscathed, much of my body is burned, I am hoping the salt water is enough to sustain the wounds from festering. But I fear they may be beyond repair. How much longer I have, I cannot say? But the agony of my burns is only increasing as the days go on. Sleep as been horrific, I am in constant nightmares and waking to sweat. Keeping hydrated is most difficult as I must drink the rain water. I have built a small bowl in the sand just outside my sleeping quarters to catch water. I have sewn leaves together with thread I had found in luggage that dropped from the plan. I placed them in the sand as to help sustain as much water as possible. I am no seamstress so the water slowly seeps through into the sand. But it has been enough to get me throug