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: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Damaso, Ellen Marsell
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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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