A sad place of old

Scares on the landscape prevail at this place, great dashed in indentations of mindless human violence, one race pitted against another fighting for a cause that here on these shores must seem so far away.

Standing in the echos of the past, the pulse of history beneath my feet, so much needless death. The electricity of what once happened here hangs like a pale mist in the air, its almost like you can still feel the fear the pain, I wondered what it would have been like to be here then.

A deathly silence sweeps over this place, the grass covers the blood soaked soils of yesterday the land of the dead covered over by the land of the living, all that remains on the surface is the deep embellishment of craters, impounds of a war long gone.

Would it really of mattered out there? The cause? The reason for one man to take arms against another, to mindlessly shoot, to kill to maim? would it really matter on the battle field who’s side you were on, who was shooting at who, where the only game is survival. Piles upon piles of body’s left, dropped, decaying, another wasted life for some ideal that matters not.

Underneath my feet lay the blood stains of old, the rancid rotten meat, the bones of just another life, picked up and dragged into a battle that was not there own, to defend a country that cares not. Millions and millions of people sent out to certain death, upon this ground on which I stood.

How did we all go so wrong? what is the need to hurt, to kill? to fight? a standard, an ideal, a set of reasons, nothing compares to the loss of an innocent life. Death hangs in the air, even he has forgotten the reason. Jagged, Sharp pieces of hot metal, tearing through warm flesh like a knife through butter, while the idea makers eat toast and drink tea.

Blood spilling out on soils unknown, while children play at home there father dies, torn apart, a broken body smashed upon the ground, and still the hail of shells rain on, one more life lost, one more forgotten soul to slip and seep with in the ground, yet more ruined life’s. Will we ever learn.

Today still on we fight, intent upon destroying each other, we relish in the fact, bath like pigs in mud, basking in the glory of another day of suffering. Educated intelligent beings we are supposed to be, yet never more like animals do we play. We build and perfect ways to destroy, bigger better ways to end it all, for some long forgotten meaning, an idea of god, or some principle of what is right or wrong.

We oppress what we do not understand, we hurt and kill, blood lays on our hands, upon our boots, it fills the soils of our land. That darkened cloud comes bearing down upon us, fills and consumes us with hate and greed.

How do we hope to achieve our ends by killing one another? Smashing away at the ground, destroying things? for an idea? A set of principles of which there is no way of knowing what is right and what is wrong, when it all boils down to the fact these ideas are born from nothing, set in judgments that really matter not in this game of life.

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~ by Duma Key on August 5, 2008.

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