fields of tombstones standing in silent watch
appearing as a living breathing entity
it’s about death,
but of course, life gives death meaning
the sublime beauty of repeating imagery
stretching to infinity
yet I’m lost in my own finite world
silence lingers in the air as the dust settles
why are we here, do we exist?
as I gaze ahead, I ponder what I leave behind
what dust of me remains, if even
but yet, here I stand with the remains
still alive
© 2021 michael d emmerich
© 2021 mikesnexus.com
the only way to beat death
is to live
…..
the only way to live
is to have hope
…..
the way to have hope
is to have courage
……
pushing on gives optimism
whatever begins, ends
© 2021 michael d emmerich
© 2021 mikesnexus.com
“Nonintervention does not mean that nothing happens.
It means that something else happens.”
Christopher Hitchens
On this day when we remember the fallen, lets gave pause for thought, to the boys forced to become men, to become killers. In silent contemplation, I at times shout out to my silence; why do we discard our best and brightest to senseless conflicts. The hopes and disappointments of generations of young (mostly) men/boys are always dashed at the altar of political expedience and greed. Young men fighting old men’s wars. The First World War poets have always stuck a deep chord on my soul and I reread the poems and contemplate deeply on the what, why, how and the loss. The poetry of Owen, Rosenberg, Blunden, Gurney and Sassoon are those that I turn to when I need to pause and think, why is this world so fucked up?
Consequently, I have put my pen to writing about war, and the effect it has had on me; as who served, and on our youth and the broader society. Here are some of the poems I have written with a precise of what inspired/motivated me to to put pen to paper. Not in the same league as Owen and Sassoon, but hopefully it will cause you dear reader, to pause, and reflect as to where we are going in this crazy world.
Upon reflecting on my time in the military/war as an Ops Medic, my mind flitted around the war, in which I was involved, and its unpopularity (in my opinion) and the baggage that one carries after the fact. The PTSD that soldiers carry with them for life, but that society has long forgotten, especially if the war was unpopular. Sting said: “History will teach us nothing” in some respects he is true.
The passing of Muhammad Ali gave me pause for reflection on the issues of war, forcible conscription and all that goes with it, he went to prison rather than be drafted to serve in Vietnam. I then reflected back on my time when I was forcibly conscripted in 1981 and my battle with the process of all that is war.
This arose from a dream I had, which then made me think back to a Wilfred Owen poem I read, “Strange Meeting”. Upon further reflection I cast my mind back to when I was an Ops Medic in the bush war in 1981/82 and the time I spent treating patients at the main POW camp in the now Namibia. My thought process then meandered through a montage of past present and future. It was a difficult poem to write but the words just spilled out once I began.
Penned this on the International day of Peace in Sept this year. To quote John Lennon: Give Peace a chance.
…. and a few others:
© 2018/20 michael d emmerich
© 2018/20 mikesnexus.com
battered, bruised
used and abused
but not destroyed
deception, lies and bullshit
no bond just a hypocrite
is their holy writ
the weight presses down
yet ...
when the call goes out
the deal goes down
I’m still willin’
coz I care
…….
unlike some
life, for what purpose to what end do we exist, or do we? dwelling in the pain of human finitude with transient joys, to what end do not the beasts of the field have more purpose? finding happiness and meaning, is it even possible in their world can we even control what matters? a reason and a season for this perpetual autumn my dreams are as stormy clouds, fast approaching yet tomorrow never arrives for we are destined to shuffle on and off we live, we die, we know not why what is this life is it even meant to have meaning? breath, eat, love, shit, work and then …..
how long must one endure? giving up not coz I don’t care but because others don’t I’ve fuckin’ had enough stepping back from life’s bullshit fighting a losing battle trying not to lose war by losing the battle how deep must one dig? until you find it all, then to discover maybe you still do ….
© 2020 michael d emmerich
© 2020 mikesnexus.com
I
the last autumn leaf cleaves
bone tired, refusing to fall
grasping the weathered phalange
extending from the gnarled skeletal branch
reaching ….
by a mere filament it hangs
to stubborn … or
too tired to fall
II
that feeling, at days end
when the marrow has been sucked
from the core of your life
when you just too tired to sigh
……
yes, one of those days
that’s how I wake up these days
© 2020 michael d emmerich
© 2020 mikesnexus.com
home is where we start
but not where were it ends
the pathway from birth to death
is littered with choices
collected, used, stored, discarded
some stones sparkle and tempt
others lie cracked, damaged, exposed
by life's harsh realities
yet there is value in these damaged stones
and then, one day, I will die somewhere
against my will or another’s
but not today
if I pass away in some foreign field
sun burnt white back bones
the brittle stations of the cross
civilisations like bones
… turn to dust
who will know to come and mourn?
if they knew, would they?
eulogy or legacy
what remains
.. other than another day
as the worlds falls apart
the strings are pulled
it all unravels, at the end
I can’t leave, but eventually I will
just passing through
who the fuck are you? who tells you who you are? the world or your inner voice? what is this life what’s the reason or purpose? born, exist, die passion before action affirming what is before yes, suffering is real for a season choose one, fall into discontent only one time for each season let your inner voice scream into the chasm even if fuck all happens
