In Flanders Fields

by John McCrae, May 1915 (WWI)


In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Latakya

Allah ou akbar. People chant, they cheer;
Feet ricochet off the surface of the street,
Vibrations in a hopeful atmosphere.
Tonight we fight. We will never retreat.

Then the guns vomit their own petty rant,
And the songs we sung turn to children's screams.
We scatter, some fall flat onto pavement.
Now shattered, nightmares, for some finished dreams.

The shoreline's tainted with the colour red,
The darkened streets lie heavy and silent.
We won't dream tonight of those who are dead
Our sleep so still, uneasy and violent,

But that soft girl who was shrieking, she's seen the pain.
She dreams, for she sees what we have to gain.

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Dedicated to Latakya. I spent many years of my childhood on the beach in this seaside town, with my family, swimming, sandcastles, etcetera; I remember it fondly. On the 18th a peaceful protest against Bashar's regime was silenced by the harsh speech of gunfire.
You can see the video here.
This is the single most shocking video I have seen on the internet. It gave me nightmares. And I just had to dedicate some writing to this.
All my best to the Syrian people.
-Felipe

You can have your cake and eat it too, until someone realises you've had too much cake.

Sun floods your eyes, as cold pierces my bones.
You lay staring at me. You, there, throwing stones,
Was that a glint of emotion that sleepily shone?
Were you just waiting there 'til I was gone.

This probably ended before it'd begun;
I wonder if its time was done
While I was up in the clouds, my dreams on the run;
Then I forgot the sullen, sweltering sun.

You may think the breeze is warm,
As the air caresses your face.
Worms squirm through me in swarms,
Just feel frost's cold embrace.

While my face goes numb in the winter air,
My flesh rots, my features fall off in despair.
My eyelashes burn in the aloofness of your glare.

You, you let the sun shine off your hair.

Day after day, love turns grey
Like the skin of a dying man
Night after night, we pretend it's all right
But I have grown older and
You have grown colder and
Nothing is very much fun anymore.

And I can feel one of my turns coming on.
I feel, cold as a razor blade
Tight as a tourniquet
Dry as a funeral drum,
Run to the bedroom, in the suitcase on the left
You'll find my favourite axe
Don't look so frightened
This is just a passing phase
Just one of my bad days
Would you like to watch T.V.?
Or get between the sheets?
Or contemplate the silent freeway?
Would you like something to eat?
Would you like to learn to fly?
Would you like to see me try?
Would you like to call the cops.
Do you think it's time I stopped?
Why are you running away?

I lay wondering if I would sleep and if I could
When an angel came and brought me to a barren wood;
It spoke to me of God's great war and its high stakes,
Suddenly I lay in bed, shuddering and wide awake.