once upon a time

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Shells exploding, my world imploding.
Confined in living graves we survive.
Bodies underfoot elevating me, the zombie
To lethargic heights,as I strain to hear that final blast.
One long shrieking whistle hurtling me forwards,
into no mans land. It’s a land of turmoil, death,glory, where?
Mythical warfare  talked about, at clean
initial scarred desks denies the ugliness of wars
grim reality.

Your boyhood intestines sliding into
gore filled ground, so much for conquest.
Story booksand songs of valour, another dead friend.
Only survival as death slips by, his sting whispering
inanely past your ear. Busy bugles calls trawl us forwards
whilst we sprawl in mud wishing, I was once again foetus.
Only formed in womb. Not to be misshapen in death that
Even a casket disdains your deformed body.
Lying now in the unmarked grave of the Unknown Soldier where
future generations shall salute.
In clean surroundings, little caring that you are
still in that final no mans land.

Looping your innards Into heavens gate.
Not only the dead can carry a tale,
those left alive can tell that war is truly hell.
If we stand in no mans land, ghostly spectres,are
carried along on lone buglers wail,
lost finally in an imploding grave.

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