Before I left to the battle
a pretty girl
came into my night .
She had an easy name : Lili .
Fairy butterfly haloed in spring.
Image or mirage ?
I'm writing this letter
in form of unfinished dream .
Or perhaps the war came to quickly...
Stripping me of this brownish armour,
I invented an azure that makes lovers
believe in immorality...
Just amour for a soldier's ride .
A midnight girl came into my life,
homeless insomnia ,wandering
in the fevers of spirit .
Unfortunate mercenary
prisoner of the clarion call ...
In the morning a large ocean bird
was waiting for me ,
loaded with submissive ants .
My jolly lili had fallen asleep
in the arms of my oblivion ...
There'd so many other nights
I look for her face in a southern star.
Listening to jackals and freezing cold .
I'm not a lion Mr president !
Should I write to you,
that I don't want to die
and kill poor people ?
But in your deep wisdom,
you decided that I would be
a vigilante in the name of motherland !
Maybe,one day,i'll come back ,
walking along the quays ,
I'd find that girl with the easy name.
Which is only a make-up ...
I'd invite her for a drink ,
to celebrate my blood-red stripe ,
sewn onto the immaculate jacket ...
I'll tell her about the casbah of Algier .
From the China border where the legion,
fell singing ...
But I wouldn't tell her about
the brothels and ear necklaces...
She won't know ,I looked away ,
hidin' to cry ...
That's so you become a man, son !
It might not to be little blondie ,
who knows a brunette
or a solar redhead ?
A mad mermaid who will take me
on a lunar battle song .
These jackals are still chasing me
through the mists of my folly ...
The girl's name was Lili .
But wasn't it a chafer that died in autumn ?
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline)
- Published: July 1st, 2025 10:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Damaso, Ellen Marsell, Priya Tomar
Comments3
Dreamy, mythical, romantic but with the lust of man it now becomes quizzical and calls for reflection. Lovely
Where is humanity found and where is it lost ?
great write, enjoyed
Deep existential reflection .Who am I ?
who indeed are any of us ?
The fascinating unsettling duality of being !
What remains of a man when he becomes part of the war machine?
This is a drama of consciousness — one that sees the absurdity and injustice of what is happening, yet is powerless to change the course.
I always want to be a witness of history .That doesn't come without risking my share of humanity !
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