Trading arms

Trading arms.

In a sea of green they got lost in the shadows
martyrs to a war, saviors of the poor.
ignorant to the cause but so eager to join
brothers in arms holding each other stitches.

Boasting youth so willing to submitt to old ways
giving life away before time deems it fit.
heros of a nation gathering like cattle to the slaughter;
old age's will, some would say.
with a buzz cut and a shave they are new men
a new look and a pair of boots.
boastfull youth mending the fences. Proud.

"We learned to fight together"


In foxholes fox trotting away from deaths grip
swimming in a sea of red they get lost in the reef.
trading bullets for thoughts, bombs for peace.
war is predictable.
losing brothers by the minute, the family tree runs dry,
while its roots soak in the souls.
bravery is a funny thing. But theres always irony
in comedy, some how that makes it ok.
to chase death and not want it, to loathe life and then cherish it.
they pleaded guilty to peace. but the guns kept judging.
those nights the wind blew a little harder.
and the moon hung in the sky a little longer.
disillusioned youth keeping the fence up,
growing years by the bullet wound.


"We made it home heros"


forgotten youth martyrs to a welcome that never came
in a sea of americans they get lost in the translation.
thrown away sacrifice; Chasing redemption.
so wounds never heal and the scars never mend.
the love of naypalm in the morning
is infectious.
dreaming of sleep with eyes wide shut.
trying to forget who they are.

Forgotten youth, left back when they where young.

Not sure why this piece hasn't had any feedback... I guess because it's quite long and isn't a 30 second job.

This poem resonated a lot with me as it reminded me of two of my favorite songs... If you're into rock music at all, they're called "Survivor Guilt" by and "Hero of War" by Rise Against. Thet deals with some very similar ideas. Particularly the first stanza where you talk about
"Martyrs to a war, saviors of the poor/Ignorant to the cause but so eager to join" - this little section really encapsulates pretty much every soldier... They want to serve their country, to fight for the cause... but very few actually know what that cause is.

The second stanza dealing with the idea of almost a "rebirth" from "youth" to "new men" defined by their uniform buzzcuts and boots. The ironic idea that simply by cutting a childs hair and chucking him in some boots he becomes a soldier when, in reality that childhood isn't gone, it's just hidden... that way we feel less guilty when we send them off like "cattle to the slaughter."

I absolutely loved the section in the third stanza about bravery. You are a very witty writer, the comedy/irony idea followed by "To chase death and not want it, to loathe life and then cherish it" was perfect.

The final stanza giving the sense that war, or simply being a soldier robs youth is very powerful. The line about loving napalm in the morning, playing on the common/colloquial phrase to put forth a serious subject is really well done.

All in all, A really cool piece. My only criticism would be to watch your spelling and double check before you drop... tiny errors take away from great pieces.

In foxholes fox trotting away from deaths grip
swimming in a sea of red they get lost in the reef. Deep imagery you've got going here Fatt.
trading bullets for thoughts, bombs for peace. What a great line.
war is predictable. I especially like this little line. It breaks everything up and hits you in the face with stark reality.
losing brothers by the minute, the family tree runs dry,
while its roots soak in the souls. Nice Fatt. Really, really nice.
bravery is a funny thing. But theres always irony
in comedy, some how that makes it ok.
to chase death and not want it, to loathe life and then cherish it. I love the depths of thought you go to, and then the way you explain that thought. Crystal clear naked wording, shining.
they pleaded guilty to peace. but the guns kept judging. Your personification is well done. Judging guns...that's great.
those nights the wind blew a little harder.
and the moon hung in the sky a little longer.
disillusioned youth keeping the fence up,
growing years by the bullet wound.

Good way to end this stanza. Not one bit stands out more than an other, because it all follows suit so well. From top to toe.
Fatt, I think you've done really well with this piece. Your descriptions are as if you've lived them. Memories seem to come to life.
Pictures pop out at me when I'm reading this. And it holds an atmosphere of war and peace and balances on the blade of irony of them both being cast together.
I posted this quote of yours, because it was my favourite stanza, but don't think for a second that I didn't like the rest. Just got a lot of work to go through.
Great to see you posting again Fatt.
It was a pleasure reading this.

Great Read.
Thank you.