THE LIFE AND DEATH OF A CHILD SOLDIER

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF A CHILD SOLDIER.

An extended meditation

 

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REPUBLIC FALLING

Republic falling

Government broken

Parliament smouldering,

Citizens scattered

Reduced to refugee status

Across neighbours.

Families’ countries apart

Capital crumbling

Resuscitation failing,

Coughing up the blood of innocents

Who lived to fight one too many other days.

All the tears suppressed by being strong

Let loose.

Death comes in the arms of a fellow child soldier,

The disillusionment of we are men,

And we’ll fight to the bitter end.

 

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CHILDREN ARE THE FUTURE

Lone vigil,

Away from the campfire.

Ancient suite,

Leaving those who are asleep,

Dream, and are still breathing,

Under pretexts of toilet.

 

Creeping night

Ebbing life

Iced breath, Cold dust,

Echoing footsteps.

Once upon a hotel,

Defaced portraits

Treading deeper and higher

Into this icy carcass.

Unfazed

A child of the dark,

And thankful for it cold nights,

Breathing easy with the knowledge that,

Nothing travels at night.

 

Moonlight corner found.

Digging deep into dirty layers of clothing,

Down to where the most precious items are kept.

Unknown family photo,

Front house,

Smiles,

All shorts,

Same colours.

 

Unable to completely understand the photo,

Born deep into the chaos,

And the post war battles,

That meant nothing

Because the world was already lost.

 

Yet somehow still emotionally aware of the loss,

Mature enough to long,

Not for parents, never knew the idea,

But for them, these people in the photo,

To be a part of them,

And to be there smiling also.

 

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THE NEW WORLD

Born in all of this,

Well acquainted with death,

Accepting of there being monsters,

Indifferent to their horrors

Unshaken by screams,

True night terrors

And the darkest of starless nights.

 

Used to half sleep

Open fields,

Fresh air, fruit,

Green grasses

Seas and land breezes

Beyond wildest imaginations,

Not even a dream within a dream.

 

At best, in a good dream

A bit more heat,

A bit more food,

A safe place to sleep.

 

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STREET DREAMS

Warm night

Regular alley,

Single light

Night activities,

Easy chilling,

Watching the flow of the game,

Dice up and down

Side betting,

Up fifty,

Sip a drink,

Waiting for the joint

To roll back around.

 

Out of game fuck uttered,

Slowing of time,

Moment to look,

Unarmed running the opposite way,

Soldiers shooting back,

Screams of an AK,

Bodies falling and floating,

Not enough fire power,

Hand late to waist,

Thrown to the ground

Multiple impacts,

Moment of silence.

Taken over by a state of piece,

In awe of the moon and stars,

Unable to move,

Head shaking mentally,

Last thoughts

“Fucken dice.”

 

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THE GENOCIDALISTS

Smells of charred flesh,

Excrement, death,

Smoking wood

Dying down fires,

Burnt shacks.

Cries of a baby

Followed by shouts of,

“Shut that fuck up!”

Shots fired, silence.

Women already raped tortured,

Men all dead.

 

Child soldier,

Away from the group,

Cigar between teeth,

AK holstered,

Not bothered by the stench,

Thinking about lunch.

Bandana wrapped around head

By the only tap,

Rock in hand,

Humming,

Rinsing machete.

 

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A DREAM OF TOMORROW

 

Bullets breaking the dark silence

Between footsteps,

Ambush in the sinister night

Amid the ruins of civilization,

Skirmishing deep within gloomy streets

Firing into black alleys.

Chaos anarchy,

Enemy retreat

Body left behind, coughing up blood

Moving in to finish him off.

 

Underneath the hoodie, scarf and beanie

Face of a teen boy visible,

Covered in grime,

Pain in his eyes,

Reaching,

Grasping for a breath

That he will never catch.

Lower the gun, grab his hand,

Confusion in his eyes

Unable to comprehend how to be a child

In this land of men and monsters.

Pain, teary eyed, squeezing hand.

Raise the gun

Two bullets in the chest

Bang, bang.

Pain is over, close eyes

No mom or dad here to quell fear.

 

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