The Little Bullet

Little child on the wall,
you are the fairest of them all.
Only if you tell the world,
how the little bullet,hurts inside.

Little man, tempestous soul.
singing a song, a song untold.
Only if you tell the world,
how the little bullet stole your voice.

Little Mother, So happy you seem,
Your eyes with tears, like pearls they gleam,
Only if you tell the world,
How the little bullet, made your son scream.

Little soldier, ascertained and brave,
Faster than time, creating graves.
Only if you tell the world,
How the little bullet, in your gun would rave.

Little bullet, so tiny so small,
You are the ruler of them all.
Only if you tell the world,
How the taste of someones death felt.

...Of War,Love and God.

Faceless men,
away from home.
Leave behind,
Raging storms.
Broken hearts,
Salt-less tears.
Fearless souls,
Stricken with Fear.

Letters of Love,
Love for letters.
Warriors hope,
for the better.
Isolated tranquility,
Sorrow at home.
Heavy hearts,
in wildernesses roam.

Rain of lead,
lead by rain.
Blood and water,
Sweat and pain.
Moist eyes,
Stare at space.
Haggard eyes,
terrified face.

A walk in hell,
without him.
A vestigial bullet,
without skin.
Death and noise,
piercing the air.
acuate melancholy,
lighten her hair.

Her pale Paleness,
Fades in slow,
Growing hunger,
stops to grow.
He slowly Fades,
Paleness out,
and swings his arms,
in a bloody bout.

Sore eyes,
wiping tears.
bloody hearts,
fighting fears.
Deep woods,
shallow mines.
Church bells fire,
as Bofors chime.

White robed leader,
selfish swine.
Slaughters a thousand,
for a dime.
Anguish in hades,
awaits him so.
A lake of cold fire,
A field of hot snow.

Innocent mother,
Shot down dead.
A Brutal Son,
not mine 'He said'.
Someone’s love,
torn to shreds.
Cause killing is,
someone’s bread.

No war can cry,
the cry of love.
Strife and hatred,
cry wars aloud.
Has man gone blind,
that he kills his brother?
Has money grown bigger,
Than ones own mother?

A wake up call,
God gives us now.
Deaf ears to this,
would be taught, to prove...
God exists,
He lies in wait.
For man to turn away,
From the devils bait.

The Unforgiven

A dark street in heavy suburbia,
All things beyond the laws of sanity.
As hunger tears through the loftiest of dreams,
Morals crucified on the poverty tree.

A loaf of bread, a sip of clean water,
The calloused palms of reality ask.
A dirty bed, laced with brutality,
The stones on the pavement in sorrow bask.

Blood thicker than porridge,thinner than water,
Hearts colder than frosty storms.
The richer they are,the farther they seem,
To the soiled babe, in the nest of thorns.

Does time heal the wounds that the unforgiven yeild,
Does sympathy quench the dark thirst of pain.
Repentance, is it a stalk frowing in my field?
That grew from unsowed grains of sin.

A child born in the garbage of pleasures,
Can life really find him.
He decides to go look for life on his own,
and returns back with strife behind him.

The cup runneth over, with storms in his head,
Cannibals biting at his heels, biting at his bread.
Unearthly intervention, repentence for sin?
and dies on the unforgiven, as humanity lays down dead.

A Dark Cloud in Soccer History...

How could this Happen? No, it cannot! How could Zizou do such a thing?! It was just too shocking! He just cant! My mind doesnt accept it, nor does my heart! But the world around me does. The media does, the television does! The refree did!Zizou did that ugly thing? Zizou got red carded in the Soccer World Cup Finals??!! How could this happen?

It has been a dark day for france and for Soccer. Such a legendary player falling to that level. Just unacceptable. I feeling still hasnt sunk in, two hours after I watched it live on TV. I dont think it will sink in even after a couple of decades. This is not what was supposed to happen. Zidane was to end his career on a glorious note. And it happened in the second overtime, just a few minutes before the end! France could have won!

It happened, and Zinedine Zidane fans, from all over the world are under a huge cloud of sorrow. It will take long to clear. It will...



I still wonder why...

ONE HAND LESS

He never valued me. He never had respect for me. I think I was Gods gift to him, but he never realized it.

I always knew Fred. Don’t remember from when, but I know I always knew him. I always looked up to him. And I was faithful to him. Always faithful. But he took me for granted. He never knew how important I was to him. I still remember those days I spent with him. Always by his side, attached to him faithfully. Always there to obey any of the commands that he would give. Never have I disobeyed him.

At a young age, I loved writing for him. It was so difficult for me. But i did. I struggled and my handwriting was wobbly. I had never done it before. So i decided to learn. I couldn’t disobey him, could I? As he grew older, i was with him in everything he did. In fact he never did anything without me. He was my best friend. But i don’t think I was his.

His prayers looked like prayers because of me. Without me and my brother, no-one could say he was praying. I helped him play baseball better than all the boys in class. My strength was his strength. And we were the best in class. No one could beat us at any sport. That is why Fred was so famous in school.

When he went to high school & college, I stuck to him. Fred was more into sports than studies. He needed me. I knew that. But he always thought that he was doing everything on his strength. He never remembered God. He never remembered that all that he could do was because of Gods grace on him. Because of Gods gifts to him. Gifts like me...

Then Fred got into bad company. He started going the wrong way, and made me do things i didn’t want to do. But I had to do it. I had to obey Fred. I couldn’t say no to him, because of what I was to him. God had created me to serve Fred. And when he wanted to smoke, it was I who helped him. I helped him drink and do all the wrong things he did. I myself was helpless. I only prayed that God give him wisdom to realize what he was doing. I only wanted the best for Fred.

When I look at Fred now, i am devastated. I have never seen him without me. All my life I was with him. He lies there unconscious before me on the road and I cannot do anything to help him. I am dying, because I am helpless without him. I cannot do anything without Fred. I was a part of him. He drove the car too fast, and the crash snapped me off from Fred. How I wish he had gone slow.

Oh, I ache so much. I know I am going. There is hardly any blood left in me... Fred will survive though. He can survive without me. But me, separated from him. No...

It was great being Fred’s hand. He took good care of me, and I tried my best to serve him. The only mistake he committed is he didn’t realize what I was to him. He didn't realize that I was Gods gift to him. ... Never thanked God for me.

... But now that he doesn’t have me, he will value me. ....He will. He will know what it is to live without a Hand. He will...

Moral: Some things turn invaluable only after you lose them.

ONE HAND LESS - AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A HAND, by Alistair Bangera.