Archive for the ‘Battle’ Category

Not my usual blog of poetry and dark visions, but, I like to show more than my awful poetry and today, I share with you my YouTube video – Killer Chihuahuas from Outer Space, starring Chewy and Dazzle and some random targets of historical importance.


Click here for Killer Chihuahuas from Outer Space!!!! Action, suspense, explosions and Chihuahuas!!!


Bodies burning,
To the devil’s delight,
The war machine keeps turning,
Spinning in delight!

We were mad.

Angry young hipsters, wandering the streets of the city, looking for a fix for pain, that vision of Hell burning in our brain, ecstasy of that night’s choice, dry rushing through our blood stream, ripping out our horrid childhood memories.

Dancers in fire,
A wisp of the smoke drifting inside our minds,
Delivering us to hope,
To desire,
To darkness!

We were pulling into Tulsa when the acid took hold.

The blinding moon moon burned our skin. The rat head mutants stared at us as we checked into the hotel, a flea box built of dead and dying masses we talked to on the screen.

The white rabbit took our bags, filled with a variety of pills and booze we acquired through our journeys through time and space.

We were digging our own brains!!

My Dearest Brother,

I know it has been awhile since you have heard from me,
I know by now, you have received word of me,
About me,
I shall try to explain,
In my own words,
To you,
Dear brother.

Into the fires,
We found ourselves,
Victims to the falling bombs,
The exploding shells,
There in Hell,
On that Earth,
Some of us would die,
Into pieces,
Some of us would live,
All would be wounded,


That horrible word,
To hear,
Screamed across the Hell,
That horrible place,
Some would not hear that final bullet,
That finally canister,
That last breath,
Gasped away,
In Hellish haze.

I, my lord,
I would not die,
But lose a leg,
And an eye,
There in some field,
Not on a map,
Any that exist still to this day,
I lost my friend,
That battle,
To end that war,
It did not,
We still fight on,
Young men cried,
And died,
Never to see that blue sky of home again,
I would see,
Be pitied.
That I did not die,
OH brother,
My dear brother,
I remember that day,
It was a hard cold day,
In some trench,
I could hear the enemy breathing,
I could feel them bearing down on us,
Trench to trench,
Spearing them,
Our men,
I heard the first screams,
Terror filled screams,
Drifting through that field,
As if by the Gods,
An explosion ripped through us,
I felt something jab my leg,
Then nothing,
No sound,
Darkness there,
Sherman was there,
I felt his hands pulling me down the trench,
I figured this was death,
Rocks against my back,
Scraping the flesh from it,
With each pull,
I remember thinking,
“Am I in Hell?”

Dearest brother,
It has been almost a year from that day,
I find I am doing wonderfully,
Oh so the doctors say,
They write things down,
As my hearing is gone,
Except for a buzzing sound,
Which they say will go away,
I hear some words,
Like high pitch whines,
Tell Mother,
Her son has lost his leg,
Most of his hearing,
A twitch when he is touched,
Awakes the world with his screams,
As he is tormented in his dreams,
Oh my dear brother,
There is a Hell,
And I am here,
I shall never know that life,
That life of a father,
That life of a husband,
The first was taking with my cock and balls,
The second,
Dear Brother,
What woman would want a hobbling cripple,
Ugly even before war took his face,
Replaced it with some horrible demon’s?

I wish,
My friend,
I could be more positive,
I shall be home,
I will write more when I find out more,
Tell my Nora,
Beautiful Nora,
I think of her,
There in the field,
We met there as kids,
We pretended I was her hero,
Now, I am nothing but a soulless body walking through life,
Tell her,
She should find another hero,
One who can give her that life she deserves,
The husband who can provide,
I shall go now,
Send mother and father,
Oh god, my brother, what can I say to them?
Tell them, I love them.
Tell them, I am coming home.

Signed with love,

Photo by guille pozzi on Unsplash

Silently, and without caution, we moved through the night, stalking each other like wild animals through the plains, deserted, waiting for the rain which would never fall.

The wind, our friend, our companion, stuck to us as we moved along, our eyes peeled to the person in front of us, never looking away.

Johnny stood out in front; his body tense with each sound, we stuck to him like ants on glue.

We heard nothing; the night silent, hiding the facts of anything around us.

We marched slowly forward, to the sound of silence, each foot step a crinkle a thousand times louder in our head.

We did not know; that within the hour, half of us would be dead or dying, there on some freshly raked battle field, a battle that would not be written down in history books, not taught in schools, to wide eyed children, enthralled by it all.

The first shot, the one you never hear, struck Johnny.

We watched him fall, like a rock, hard to the ground, the blood, brains, hitting the few behind him; we all fell hard to the ground, crawling on our bellies, over the hill.

Photo by Scott Rodgerson on Unsplash

An explosion hit behind me; I couldn’t see anything, dirt and dust clouding my vision, I heard the screams mixed with my own voice; “Down!” I heard someone yelling; Samuel, I could only guess.

We fired back; unseen enemies, somewhere out there; their own fire flying over us, through us.

“Medic!!” I heard a voice scream.

A quick death was prayed for, if we should be hit.

The horrors not described by the teachers; by those recruiters, fight for your land, flashed by our eyes, to be burned into our minds.

Some of us would never return.

Those left alive, would return, not whole, parts gone; body parts ripped away, the mind scarred by those images thrown past us.

We would not be those recruitment posters; flashed up, to lead others into our place.

I survived, broken, part of my left arm gone, left in a field, second patrol, fifteen men that day were killed.

I guess I was lucky.


The term falls off my tongue, like poison, I heard that word a thousand times through my recuperation process; the medics, the nurses, the father, the son, the holy ghost.

Those fuckers could shove a grenade up their asses and pull the pin.

See how lucky they felt if they survived.

I was lucky, I guess, my friend Jackson, was hit in that part his girlfriend enjoyed the most on their dates; his manhood was taken, I guess he was lucky, though his girl friend dumped him upon reading his letter.

I was lucky; no girl before I left.

I wrote my sister who met me at the train station; she smiled.

“You look good Henry! Are you taller?” she said, hugging me.

“Maybe!” I said; feeling her squeeze me tightly.

Two weeks home; I felt a tightening in my chest; my fist grew into fists; laying there in the dark, flash backs; play backs, I guess, I heard the cries, the explosions.

“Down!” phantom voices screamed; the mortars rang out; silence, dust settling; I could see the faces of the dead; their eyes hanging from their sockets, arms, legs, hanging by thin threads.

The dead marched by.



Explosion nearby!

I screamed.

The house woke up, my mother rushed in, she saw the terror in my eyes.

She said nothing, held me tight, I shook in fear.

“The bombs bursting in air!! They lied!!” I screamed, over and over, as I had that night.

For hours; I shook, I cried, my mother held me.

“Henry don’t worry, I won’t ever let you go!” she said, quietly, my sister settled by me as well, hugging me.

Through the night; it went, and they sat there, protecting me the entire time.