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POEMS Storyteller

First Blood

The moonless sky glittered with stars
A lone fishing boat glided across the calm ocean
He sat looking out to sea
His A.K. 47 rifle held close to him
His socialists ideology imprinted on his soul
“Let dem ┬ácom” he said
His heart raced as he thought about the possibility of war
He knew he was prepared
Four year of training, running around in the forest
The cold rainy days, the hot sticky nights
He looked down at himself
A Russian made pistol hung loosely in its holster
Grenades lined the belt on his waist
A string of bullets crossed his chest
He could see his boots shining in the dim light
His heart is racing again
His grip on his weapon tightened
He will die for his country, or was it his cause
Or his people, or his ideology or is it a superpower
He is confused, who is his enemy, who is his friend
A lone jogger startled him as he went by
It was a student
“Capitalist pig!” he shouted
The student sped up and disappeared in the dark
“Bloody savages, dey should be destroyed”
He got up and followed the student
His soul alive with vengeance
Tonight he will draw first b

Categories
POEMS Storyteller

The Old Revolutionary (written December 1983 Grenada)

I left my footprints on a beach with blood red sand
I left my soul clenched in the fists of a dying revolutionary
I sang a song of silent words to the shadows in my nightmares
I surrendered my consciousness to the taste of cold steel in my mouth
I accept that I am the living retribution for the sins of misguided leaders
I don’t expect loyalty and I don’t expect love
Because in this world, ideology trumps humanity