if you would like to, reply with constructive criticism, this is my "poetry/music" blog lol

So, this is how it ends,

Please keep in mind before I start writing, that this is written to be heard (as all slam poetry is), so if you're unfamiliar with slam poetry you may want to look some examples up on Youtube, they're not hard to find.  I recommend "Black Irish" particularly (one of my favorites) along with Taylor Mali's "What Teachers Make".

Pop Pop
3 o'clock
He's down
Shit, one at your 9.
Good he's down.
Fuuuuuck take cover
SHIT 6 O'CLOCK

Dammit, Ben
I told you 6 O'clock,
now I gotta drag your ass
back to the medic.

No, this is not war,
not in real life anyway.

This war you'll hear shouts
not just about the enemy but to them

"Call your hit!"
"Didn't feel it, sorry!"
or
"Dude, you scared the piss outta me!"
or even
"Whoa, where's respawn?"

Yes, this is the warzone of an Airsofter.
one war that has guns looking real
and bb's that won't hurt but...so bad.

"Shit shit shit ow, too close asshole"
"My bad, bro, you came out of nowhere"

The one thing that separates us
from those who go and fight them for real.

We get to go home at the end of the day.
No matter how many times we get shot.
But we know the dangers the real soldiers and marines go through every day.
You may not find any real dead bodies in an airsoft field,
but the day a real marine, or a real soldier shows up,
they get nothing but respect from us.

We thank them each time we meet them.
We ask for pointers tactically, sure,
but above all else we thank them for
risking their asses as well as their friend's
for ours here at home.

Because of them we know we are safe,
even though some wars they fight aren't ours.

This is why it makes me sick when I hear people
criticize the men and women who don't have a choice
but to go out there and fight for us.
Every day they get shot, they shoot,
they die, and they kill for real.

Out there there is no "call your hit"
out there there is no "respawn"
out there, is life or death.
Yet they go to it again and again,
willingly and unwillingly,
because they know if it ever happened here,
they'd need the experience to fight for us
and protect us.

So the next time you see a soldier
a Marine
a Navy Sailor
or an Airforce Pilot/MP
give them a thanks
a handshake
or even a friendly nod
cuz when they come back home
they need to see that those who they serve
are grateful and know,
this war was not their choice.

"War"

So...not my best piece at all, but I'll work on it some on and off.

Slipping into my bed

What has this life been for me
but loads of pain and physical turmoil?
My joints hate me
each morning they have to reconnect
pop back in
shimmy together
in the drum line of my body
trying to pop
crack
and slam back into this thing called a body.

The dr's say that I will be confined to the limitations
of a wheelchair by the age of 30.

30?

Shit man I'm twenty-two years old
climbing rock walls
running up walls
and running through the city.

I refuse to let this pain
this condition
this suffering
get the best of me.

I refuse to let the annoyance
the screaming of each and every joint
from the moment I wake up to the moment I hit unconsciousness
rule me
enslave me
capture me
and stop me from enjoying my life.

So it's about time that I start posting again.  Here are some poems that I initially wrote for class, but I like them nonetheless.

I sit to write.
To work and get a job done
Yet something beautiful distracts me.

Stunning by every angle,
Glowing through every shadow,
Warm through the coldest night
And refreshing on the hottest of days.

I try to focus on the task at hand
Try to scribble on the writer’s canvas
But somehow this diversion has struck again
And I’m thinking of nothing but the beauty
That has been imprinted on my mind.

When suddenly I realize this task at hand
This job needed to be done
Is simpler because of you,
My muse,
So beautiful, so inspiriting,
This task at hand is you.

“Muse”
~Jake Allard


Running through trees
Dodging the slurs that shoot by me
Out of the AK’s of hate
Splintering trees and shattering cover.

One hit by them can tear me down
It can take multiple lead rounds to end a life
But only one of these to put you out for ever.

“Hate”
~Jake Allard

I wake up knowing you can’t stay,
It’s the day you go home.
You leave from my bed and shower,
After all you have to be somewhere soon.
Oh how I wish your home were here.

I can still smell your fragrance.
In my sheets, on my pillow,

The comfort, the warmth,
The love, I smell it all.

There is no way to bring you back to me.
Not now
Not today.

I still smell your fragrance
As I sit here
In this empty den.

I can still hear your voice
If only in my head
I just wish I could afford the other choice
I want you holding me again.

Energy wasted
I have no way to bring you
Back to me now

I have to find something to put my energy in,
Make it the next best thing to you.

The difference between them is great,
The next best thing still isn’t you.

“Smell”
~Jake Allard