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LISTEN

                                                                                                     Point I draw on this fine day.
                                                                                            Ten clicks out now stop drop and stay.

                                                                                                                     Listen.

                                                                                               The man with the prick is dead.
                                                                                           One shot straight through his head.

                                                                                            His name Jeff. so strong and tall
                                                                                                  to carry the prick on his back.

                                                                                              I watched him walk through rain
                                                                                                                   and mud
                                                                                          To trenches of sludge coverd by green.

                                                                                              Into a fire fight without a thought
                                                                                                       Jeff and his prick fifty.

                                                                                               Call for a drop or we are all dead.
                                                                                                      where the hell is the prick.

                                                                                                   He stood tall and made his way
                                                                                                    The drop was on most walked
                                                                                                                          away.
— sakkkkkkkkkkkkkkk, Apr 06, 2009

About the Author

Country/Region: USA

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Critiques

Morgana Tragic Proprietress

Morgana Tragic…

17 years 2 months ago

Awesome again Steven...

Well, my friend, we write what the heart and mind knows best do we not? This poem is great, short, and simple. only flaw is the typo "coverd", but we all make typos. You have some good imagery here. A read worth the while. Peace and Love Katie
S

sakkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

17 years 2 months ago

A POET MY FRIEND WILL NEVER END JUST START LIFE AGIAN

Kate. I say thanks for the words of enjoyment to a place of past. I my friend have not a clue to the reason my father was a soldier and my brothers the same. Different to thier choosing as one Airforce one Navey and the last two U.S.M.C. I still am to be with baited breth when my father lets a clue or to slip to the reason he was to be on a island. I don't think he will ever tell me as he is just that a soldier forever and a day. A man of well placed words and he as the rest don't spend time in poetry. So I will just try to understand why he is so sharp to his gray and could still to this day keep a thrown object in the air untill the mag is empty. Steven A. Kacer
Geezer

Geezer

17 years 2 months ago

agree with katie

i agree with katie, only one typo, and we all do that! so sorry that you are so tormented by the worlds' ills. you will start to heal though,at neopoet. just read all the beautiful poems here about spring and love. beauty is a matter of perception. gee
S

sakkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

17 years 2 months ago

PERCEPTION FRIEND

Geezer. I find that perception is a dirrection found and lost from time to time by all. Thanks for the kind words yet I say this as to take the chance of finding myself a stuge. I as I have stated in the past find truth in just a glance or a mouth that is to be to speak. So as to say this soldier will turn to his gray and now look I'm gone. The cat cry the wind that just placed a twist to the mix. A bag of trash or me hidden in plastic. So agian I will play in the mindes of men some day. When God is to offer me the reason I was placed to earth. Steven A. Kacer

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