Shooting.

Gun shots and twisted screams.
Vibrant shades of red against the grey.
The stuff of nightmarish dreams
against the dull reality of day.
The smoke clears. The shooting halts.

You leap. You dash. You slip.

Hands racing for your pistol
the shooting starts again.
The concrete is warm beneath the sun.
You limp across it,
arm outstretched, shaking, with the gun.
You can make it, you can make it.
If anyone can - it's you - you're the one.

You leap. You dash. You fall.

Your head hits the concrete and it seems to burn.
Then the cold. The chilling, biting cold.
It seeps into your stomach,
and steals the very breath from your lungs.
The smoke clears. The shooting halts.

You gasp. You choke. You freeze.

Charge.

It's off to war we go, my lads,
it's off to war we go.
Which port of theirs we're headed for
I shan't pretend to know.
When we hit those foreign shores,
we'll wander into town -
and fill up local hovels
'till disease puts us underground!

It's off to war we go, my lads,
it's off to war we go.
We'll march shoulder to shoulder and
only ever so precisely slow.
For running is too demanding -
and charging such a bore.
I'm a gentleman in a gentleman's army
and I expect no less from the war!

It's off to war we go, my lads,
it's off to war we go.
I'll send you off without a clue but
you'll put on a hell of a show.
You'll all go down in history -
the stuff of legend and books.
Some of you might not return
but it can't be as grim as it looks!

It's off to war we go, my lads,
it's off to war we go.
I fear I may have blundered here
for numbers now seem low.
But I surely deserved my title -
I even paid for it myself.
And they can't take that away from me
for as long as I have my health!

Morality.

Morality isn't black and white:
it's different shades of grey.
For one man is always crushed
when another "saves the day".

Sunrise.

The colours in the skies fade to a darker shade,
a transition so blunt compared to
night's usual sharp blade.

Some hours pass and Darkness reigns -
clouds cease to move like starlit stains
and everything is dark and dull -
no moonlight now remains.
And the night time creatures prowl and skulk
where their prey lay, and Darkness reigns.

Alone, the street seems alien to me -
streetlights flicker and catch shop window reflections
but the lights fade too, slowly -
no streelight now remains.
And all the while I walk and muse
as prey I stand, where Darkness reigns.

The passage of time bears no surprise -
before too long appears sunrise
and everything is lit again -
marking night's demise.
In winding roads and alleys, Darkness remains
for once again, at this night's fall, Darkness reigns.

Looting.

Don't just bite the hand that feeds,
burn it to the ground.
Watch as the remains wither,
and slowly die.
In the name of "justice" -
acts none can justify.

Embers of unrest filter down
to the youth and set the night ablaze.
Torching homes, and stealing without shame.
Is this the generation you would want to raise?
Without respect, without consideration,
from the outside looking in we must seem a barbaric nation.
And in this dire time we begin to see the shift of blame -
since the Goverment's on holiday, with just debts beside its name.
While others claim the parents failed in the duty -
"How didn't you teach your son not to go out looting?"
And the original cries for justice seem ironic,
a protest hijacked - a crime spree with a noble cause stuck on it.

But the worst truth of all is the loss of identity -
invincible without names, they can do as they please.
As stupid as they are, they've brought this country to its knees.

Foundations.

Hands clasped together as if he's praying,
head tilted to the sky, his body now shaking.
Concrete towers surround him,
as his faith is rocked to its foundations.
And to console him, most just
offer their 'deepest' commiserations.
It might not be enough,
but sometimes it's all we can do.
When life doesn't make sense
you can't always expect words to.

Choice.

Our future is not a battle to be won -
it's a story to be written,
a tale to be spun.

A sense of destiny, like fear -
is one to which we choose to adhere.

(And too much of either is enough to
drive a man near to despair)

Look past shallow veils of 'fate' and fear -
the choice to choose was always here.