The Bitterness Within

 

The Bitterness Within

Blinded by the bitterness within, consumed by the insanity of its rage,

Leaving emptiness, a festering void, vengeance fills, in its soulless plague.

From misplaced fear, more monsters spawned, spiraling out of control,

Mistrust turning to hatred, uncontrollable anger, wrenching at the soul.

A coldness growing inside, in madness consumed, compassion cast aside,

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, clemency, and mercy, both denied.

The mob of beasts unbound, turned loose, their wrath too hard to quell,

Innocent blood spilt, while they dance with death, in the flames of hell.

Brandishing knives, guns, and grenades, unable to control the force inside,

As all hope, of flicking the switch, that had spawned the madness, died.

Chaos unleashed, upon any civilians seen, hewing the spirit out of them,

Turning everything upside down, creating utter confusion, and mayhem.

Filching lives, not theirs to take, the callous killing becoming imbedded,

Hunting for harmless prey, their victims brutally beaten, then beheaded.

False pleasure from killing, feeding the frenzy, as their wild obsession grew,

From inside the monsters’ minds, their sickness, casting the world askew.

Irrational acts committed, in irreversible insanity, the curse calling “More!”

Chanting words of rage, and revenge, from behind the masks, they wore.

Leaving carnage, in their wake, their helpless quarry, littering the ground,

Empty cartridges, and bloody bodies, wreckage, and rubble, cast around.

Ruthlessly murdering innocent babies, committing the worst sins known,

Leaving heart wrenching sights, of burnt corpses, charred flesh, and bone.

Prepared to die, as the martyrs of madness, going down in a blaze of fire,

In the state of anarchy, they created, within the pandemonium, they desire.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (Oct 2023)

Too Blind to Look Beyond Their Narrowed Eyes

 

Too Blind to Look Beyond Their Narrowed Eyes

There he sits, upon the stage, there is evil, in his tone, and his shifty eyes,

They cannot escape, his wicked gaze, the foggy brain, his wretched spies.

He has them fixed, stuck in the madness, of the slush, he deftly dribbles,

Layer upon layer, his clandestine motives unknown, hidden in his riddles.

Misconception is the norm, all hail the evil architect, for terror is his state,

In the breeding grounds, of savage beasts, trained to despise, and to hate.

Impotent beings, incapable of feeling love, empathy, compassion, or shame,

With his wizards, weaving wicked spells, false claims, refuting all the blame.

His zombies blindly following, party lines, from false propaganda sounded,

Living as, instruments of misery, and pain, in fear-stricken stupor founded.

In confusion, staunchly believing, wrong is right, their world upside-down,

As he sends more souls, to fuel the fires of hell, blood fest, upon the ground.

Plucked from their miserable lives, to fill the gaps, in the never-ending que,

Pushed into his pointless wars, that turn his unwitting beasts, into Orc stew.

Unable to comprehend, the measure of their sins, nor to feel mutual guilt,

Let loose, to run amuck, spreading hate, within the illusion, they have built.

Unable to embrace, any different cultures, within their borders, and beyond,

Erring toward wanton destruction, of towns, and cities, shelled and bombed.

Unable to put aside, the mindless thought of conquest, in wars of lawless lust,

Choking all things good, converting pure innocence, into vapor, and to dust.

Conducting their covert campaigns, of fear, upon other nations, in their gaze,

Continuing down, the wrong roads, relentlessly pursuing, their wicked ways.

Their blanket rules, their mono-script, and their draconian laws, so fraught,

And the extensive suffering caused, by their loyal puppet politicians, bought.

This reign of terror, upon defenseless people, its blindness has no excuse,

The architects must be rounded up, called to account, for all, of their abuse!

The walking dead, have no place on earth, with all the misery they have spent,

For rabid disease, they have spread, and awful crimes committed; All Repent!

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (October 2023)

Bound for the Field of War

 

Bound for the Field of War

Arise! Another selfless hero of Ukraine, setting your spirit free,

Rising above the grateful people, knelt down, on bended knee.

In indebtedness of your life, fearlessly fought, this final tribute,

For freedom, you bravely stood! In honour of you, we all salute!

There is devastation, and sorrow, at your final parting breath,

Family, and friends, are badly shaken, at your untimely death.

As the solemn procession, slowly marches on, in sadness bound,

The awful burden of grief, rips at their souls, in heartache found.

Your casket laden, with what remains, and all that has been lost,

With Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, hearts are vehemently crossed.

As the liturgical sound, of sorrow, and grief echoes, in sad tones,

Giving hope, beyond the grave, on the voyage, into the unknown.

Your spirit freed, from the land of conflict, unto God now given,

Away from the sorrow and suffering, away from your body riven.

As your body is lain, in the Field of War; Arise! Hero of Ukraine!

A headstone, lest we ever forget, and inscription of your name.

Arise! Son of Ukraine! As your spirit soars free, up into infinity,

Past the land of pain, beyond the wretched flood of tears free.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (Sept 2023)

Stolen Away

 

Stolen Away

Each day waking, haunted by terrible nightmares, reset to replay,

Now, utterly lost, and unable to cast, the fearsome feelings away.

Mother’s minds wracked, with duplicity, of cruel crimes committed,

Plagued with the myriad of doubt, horror that cannot be acquitted.

The weight of which, akin to constant grief, way too much, to bear,

Burning inside, the incessant fires raging, with pain beyond compare.

Like tumors fervently devouring, creating emptiness, akin to remorse,

From the beautiful children, that they have lost, taken by terrible Orcs.

To be left with a vacant space, void of the great love, that they shared,

Distraught, with loves compassion felt, that bound their hearts there.

Where are their innocent children, now sorely missed, unable to reach,

With every minute, of every day, their distressed minds, set under siege.

With the infant smiles, forcefully erased, to become a thing of the past,

Now restrained, in some strangers’ arms, the mental torture, set to last.

Perhaps forever, living with orcs, the poor little souls unjustly banished,

Devoid of their mothers’ and fathers’ affection, emotionally famished.

Sorely missing, the warmth of their parent’s embrace, and loving hearts,

Plagued with awful pain, damn the evil force, that has set them apart!

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (Sept 2023)

The Children Wept Inside

 

The Children Wept Inside

Oh, the dreadful agony, like that of inconsolable grief, in frightful sorrow felt,

When lives are suddenly taken away, by the wretched hand, that fate has delt.

Living freedoms lovely dreams, then suddenly, an evil power, changes the route,

Leaving mothers in a state of flux, with the painful torment, of constant doubt.

Hearts crying out, eyes wrung dry, locked behind barricades, in the awful chaos,

Forcefully caged, as the torture of separation grew into, the heartache of loss.

Petrified parents begging, imploring, arguing, pleading for their infants return,

Distraught mothers, feeling powerless, not knowing what to do, full of concern.

The poor women anxiously wondering if, they will ever see their children again,

Fearing the worst for their precious infants, so vulnerable within the evil feign.

Emotions, too difficult to describe, inherent pain, with hopeless desolation left,

Like a mordant parasite, gnawing at their wits, ridden in awful sadness bereft.

 

But, what the harmless children, the vulnerable victims, of these despicable crimes,

Afflicted with traumatic stress, that keeps repeating, overwhelming their minds.

Tiny children, with eyes full of fear, who anxiously watched their mothers begging,

Little arms reaching out, terrified toddlers screaming, collective hysteria spreading.

Defenceless little children roughly taken; poor petrified kids, helpless innocent prey.

Sorted and separated, like stock being drafted, bundled into buses, and stolen away,

Their precious tears shed, at the unpleasant parting, strange feelings fixed inside,

Sobbing uncontrollably, choking back the streams of tears, as they cried, and cried.

Frightened little faces, stuck to bus windows, the infants too young to know why,

Watching the awful visions, of their mothers being pushed back, making them cry.

Awful Orc soldiers fuelling fearsome thoughts, what would happen to their mums?

The brutal beasts, terrorizing vulnerable women, yelling orders, pointing their guns.

 

Kids, the spoils of war crimes, off to Orc camps to be recalibrated, and retrained,

Brainwashed in the wicked Orcish ways, to live in the land, tarnished and stained.

Mother tongue expunged, now constantly watched, by the wicked all-seeing eye,

In the state of unknowing, the land of propaganda and lies, friend, foe, or spy?

The children’s culture and past deleted, in re-education camps, new names given,

False lives made, taught to mistrust and hate, their maternal country now riven.

Older children, brothers and sisters separated, told that their parents are dead,

Made to feel like heartbroken orphans, placed in strange homes, and poorly fed.

Fostered and adopted, subjected to threats and abuse, by their proxy handlers,

Living in cold barracks and dorms, time strictly regulated, by surrogate soldiers.

On foreign soil, in foreign hands, a new set of rules, living their lives, out of skew,

Resonant memories, of their beloved mothers unspoken, another forbidden taboo.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (August 2023)

 

On Hallowed Ground

Come walk with me, softly treading, on hallowed ground, in solemn prayer,

To the valour won, by the great heroes of Ukraine, who distinguished there.

Let us honour, the lost soldiers’ souls, in the greatest sacrifice they made,

Fighting in thick forests, and farmers’ fields, for the price of freedom paid.

Do you feel the dreadful aura of war, the eery wind, set upon your back?

Can you hear pain, still resounding, from the heartbroken widows in black?

The agonizing sounds, still rising above the fields, badly wrought in battle,

Visions of soldiers, strewn about the land, gravely battered, and bedraggled.

Do you feel the fear, that plagued their minds, before they perished there,

The words fervently uttered, in desperate supplication, in each final prayer?

Can you smell the awful inferno, the fires from hell, the flesh that burned,

The terrible stench, the sons, the fathers, and uncles, who never returned?

And the daughters, and their mothers, who enlisted in the territorial force,

Numbering in the tens of thousands, determined to free, the land of Orcs,

Is your heart saddened, sensing the abysmal loss, feeling the nations weight,

The yoke of grief, in painful cemeteries, scarring the land, the reckless waste?

Do you sense, the duty bound, by soldiers borne, before their lives were lost,

Reminding you, of the selfless act, set in time, of the Son, who bore the cross.

Now take a knee, on the hallowed ground, where the soldier’s blood was bled,

The precious lives unlived, the dreams undreamt, the humble words unsaid.

Remember them, with head at tilt, the thought of those, who passed there,

Unite in freedoms spirit won, forever indebted, bow down in thankful prayer.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (Aug 2023)

Wicked Wolves in Sheep Skin

 

Wicked Wolves in Sheep Skin

Behind their elaborate robes, embroidered cloth, mistruths furtively hidden,

A litany of lies cultivated, within their fallacious world, of truth overwritten.

Priests and their loyal deacons, peddling hate, war, and unorthodox politics,

Leading their peasant flock, on an evil crusade, with holy water and crucifix.

Clerics with their twisted minds, worshiping idols of destruction, and death,

Blessing soldiers, tanks, rockets, and guns, that spread hatreds deadly breath.

Wildly obsessed with deception, and revenge, condoning unforgiving crimes,

Urging the bloodthirsty orc army, to duplicate the brutal acts, of olden times.

With calls to “burn the pagans!” as their reign of terror festers, and spreads,

Their rockets raping the land, while abomination manifests within their heads.

Waging the awful crusade, upon decent people, innocent children of Ukraine,

Executed in the name of God, bringing eternal misery, heartache, and pain.

Truth and freedom inverted, in blasphemy of God’s word, by Patriarch Kirill,

His loyal servants violating, the sacred commandment of: “Thou shalt not kill!”

With testament of their brutal crimes, echoing on earth, and in heaven above,

His soulless form, inconsiderate to, the almighty power, of patience and love.

Casting aside kindness, in his evil crusade, against freedom of choice, and truth,

Enslaving the world, in the yoke of darkness, destroying the fountain of youth.

His hard-headed clerics, still cloak-and-dagger, stuck in the rut, of days gone by,

Bred in the covert art, of clandestine missions, and surveillance, still active spies.

When will the people realize, that there is no purity in his water, nor his word,

That he has broken faith with God, that his irreverence continues undeterred!

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (August 2023)

The Innocent and Righteous Slay Thou Not!

 

The Innocent and Righteous Slay Thou Not!

Keep Gods little ones safe and sound, every colour n every creed,

To live in the unspoilt age, of innocence, the blessings of his seed.

Keep the innocent children, far from deception, and blatant lies,

The malicious men, and heartless politicians, the proxies in disguise.

From worldly ways, and the terror, that evil men hath brought,

The misinformation, and half-truths, within the masses taught.

By callous creatures, who order wars, with no account of cost,

Who render kids to sacrificial lambs, from age of innocence lost.

The pointless demolition, of children’s hospitals, reduced to hell,

And blatant bombing, of dwellings, where innocent infants’ dwell.

Rack and ruin, sanctioned by tyrants, to the warlord’s domain,

Wrought, in the blasphemy, of the word, by the brutally insane.

Invaders, going against the grain, leaving humanity high and dry,

Dark demons, who deal in the lore of death, their mad souls awry.

The thieves, who in the dark of night, steal little hearts and souls,

Vile beasts from the motherland, all the heartless orcs, and trolls.

Beware of the ones in robes, the awful cult, that would condemn,

As they call, for the blood of innocent people, women, and men.

With wicked thought, and false witness borne, in sermons of death,

Their mindless imperial tirade, denying pure life’s claim to breath.

Their sermons inanely sucking, the essence of purity, and love away,

Tainting the minds, to soulless forms, with their empty words prayed.

Lo the sacred word, will not justify the wicked, the evil to their end,

Each, and every step they take, into the fires of hell, they descend.

Keep Gods innocent children from evil, their freedom guaranteed,

To live, in the unspoilt age, of innocence, to flourish from the seed.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (August 2023)

Her Sentinel Solemnly Kept

 

Her Sentinel Solemnly Kept

Each day the mother in black, stands there, in eternal sorrow fraught,

In the field of misery, from the crack of dawn, till the day is wrought.

Standing over the infant graves, in all weather, rugged and forlorn,

Keeping a constant visual, over each misfortunate child, she mourns.

Her heart gouging at the ground, her head bent over, lost in despair,

Repeating her sad lament, crying into the ground, her solemn prayers.

Caught in the haze, the cloud of perpetual grief, the awful place of pain,

Suspended in the never-ending flow, each day, crying down every name.

Solemnly she empties her heart, over and over, the flood never runs dry,

Her soul consumed in emptiness, as tears are wrenched, from her eyes.

The weight that wears down, upon her mind, an unwelcome marathon,

Time has no limits; the eternal flames of discontent, burning brightly on.

Each fresh grave, yet another young life lost, another poor family torn,

Another beloved child wasted, victim of war, another lost soul to mourn.

Damn the evil ones, who would cover the earth, in other people’s blood,

The heartless monsters, who ruthlessly suck the sap, from the tender bud.

The generals who call the shots, in their tin medals, with a glint of gold,

Far from the trenches, and no-mans-land, the poor souls they have sold.

They have no idea of misery, the anguish, and despair, that they cause,

The agony, and distress, the burden of grief, triggered by wicked wars.

Blind to the awful crimes, that they commit, the toddlers that they take,

The mindless waste of decent lives, the innocent victims, in their wake.

The vacuum death leaves behind, the burning pain, brought by sorrow,

All the potential, that they have stolen away, time without tomorrow.

While the mother of misery, remains powerless, under the morbid spell,

Unable to lift the veil of death, upon the graves, where the children dwell.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (July 2023)