Outsider writings.
40,736 poems read
Stalingrad.
Waiting with a breath's rhythm
Eyes search a night without sound,
Silence, the antagonist of nerve
Ceases in a great resound.
Balance lost in a split second
Between misery and hell,
Hypnotised by dazzling light
Awakened by a thunderous swell.
A gun chamber spins
Destiny for the luckless,
In a game of russian roulette
Becoming unrecognised flesh.
Entrails gleam and steam
Like tossed wet ropes,
Detatched limbs form a mosaic
Through which skeletons run.
Explosions in bedlam
Bring extremes of existance,
Death comes to deliver peace
To a crazed resistance.
Prolonged is the agony
Under projectile rain,
Sweeping recognition
An addled mind in pain.
No longer home possessed
Buried deep in the mud,
For an instinct to live
Circulates through blood.
In relentless torment
Searching simple luxury,
Pissing upon hands relieves
A cold winters fury.
Some with defences breached
Lay asleep to succumb,
Leave behind a troubled world
Where comrads sit cold and numb.
The guilt of surviving
Questioning the why,
Some escape death’s hand
Others are swiped aside.
From mouths of survivors
Should come a last word,
Yet through hostilty’s bluster
peace cannot be heard.
Waiting with a breath's rhythm
Eyes search a night without sound,
Silence, the antagonist of nerve
Ceases in a great resound.
Balance lost in a split second
Between misery and hell,
Hypnotised by dazzling light
Awakened by a thunderous swell.
A gun chamber spins
Destiny for the luckless,
In a game of russian roulette
Becoming unrecognised flesh.
Entrails gleam and steam
Like tossed wet ropes,
Detatched limbs form a mosaic
Through which skeletons run.
Explosions in bedlam
Bring extremes of existance,
Death comes to deliver peace
To a crazed resistance.
Prolonged is the agony
Under projectile rain,
Sweeping recognition
An addled mind in pain.
No longer home possessed
Buried deep in the mud,
For an instinct to live
Circulates through blood.
In relentless torment
Searching simple luxury,
Pissing upon hands relieves
A cold winters fury.
Some with defences breached
Lay asleep to succumb,
Leave behind a troubled world
Where comrads sit cold and numb.
The guilt of surviving
Questioning the why,
Some escape death’s hand
Others are swiped aside.
From mouths of survivors
Should come a last word,
Yet through hostilty’s bluster
peace cannot be heard.
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Stalingrad.
Stalingrad.