I’m Just A Writer

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I’M JUST A WRITER

One-day.

When all this horror ends. Death ends from this virus. When we have thrown all the walking talking garbage, excrement out of our Whitehouse, the lunatic sociopath and all his corporate friends and buddies. When we as the people who have the true power learn that we cannot trust let alone ever again follow both monied Republicans nor Democrats because of their complete incompetency during this time of mass desolation and we have finally renewed our freedom, re-established our Constitution and our liberty and have put in change/elected intelligent, experienced & actually educated and smart people whose job it will be to repair and heal all of the monsterous actions that Trump and his cabinet have done to our country, world and environment … our people and our nation then maybe one-day when I am very old I will start writing poems about beauty, love, nature and maybe even flowers. But until that day comes I will with all my heart and all my soul write poems that are true and I will fight the powers that be until this vision this hope finally comes true and becomes a reality. So until that day I will not change nor accept the condition of this country or world and neither should you.

Because America my friends is in ruins due to the fault of one single insane individual and we know what must be done whether your conscience chooses to accept it or not. For we have been used, lied to and betrayed. Thousands are now either unemployed or dead. And this is unforgivable.

So will you just watch all this happening from the comfort of your living room? Or are you a real human being who believes that this world should be safe and free for your children and many generations to come?

Me?

I’m just a writer.

But what are you?

~ R.M. Engelhardt

At The End of The World

R.M. Engelhardt

They used to say this place is called the “End of the World

And it has gone by many other names

Like Apocalypse

Rapture

End Days

And people have been talking
About it forever, for centuries
Putting it in books

But if you choose
To believe in all of this,

Do nothing. Don’t stand. Don’t change.
Don’t resist with a true belief  in the
Human spirit, a greater love or faith

Then the End of The World
Becomes a simple truth

~ R.M. Engelhardt, 2020 ©

NOTHING GROWS IN THIS GARDEN

Nothing Grows

In this garden

The flowers

Are for the dead

 

A memorial to

The fallen

In memory of

Lives once lived

 

But in the season

Of each child

In the passing of

Each son

 

We sow the

Seeds of promise

In the hope of

Another one

 

Who will lead

Us to a new land

Who will let us

Rest in peace

Who will stop

The wars of selfish men

Who will finally

Bring us peace

 

But nothing

Grows in this garden

Except the flowers

Of the dead

As another century

Passes and another

Prayer is said

 

” Mors vincit omnia ”

 

On The Plans of Mice Not Men

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THE PLANS OF MICE AND MEN

What small minds & small hands you have in common.
Like penises. Like bombs.
The need to feel important the need to be the center of everything all things dying long dead and vile as inside like a billionaire’s mind.
Or a dictator’s

God is watching

Not you
Not God

Your harsh words
Inviting
The mists from the North
Harbingers of
Oblivion from
Another land

Mine
Yours
Mine
The news

Mice
Not men

Mice
Men that
Should just

Shut
The Fuck
Up

And crawl
Back into
Your holes

The Christmas Truce 1914

“The Truce” Christmas 1914

Though World War I had been raging for only four months, it was already proving to be one of the bloodiest wars in history. Soldiers on both sides were trapped in trenches, exposed to the cold and wet winter weather, covered in mud, and extremely careful of sniper shots. Machines guns had proven their worth in war, bringing new meaning to the word “slaughter.” 

In a place where bloodshed was nearly commonplace and mud and the enemy were fought with equal vigor, something surprising occurred on the front for Christmas in 1914. The men who lay shivering in the trenches embraced the Christmas spirit. In one of the truest acts of goodwill toward men, soldiers from both sides in the southern portion of the Ypres Salient set aside their weapons and hatred, if only temporarily, and met in No Man’s Land. 

Digging In

After the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand on June 28, 1914, the world was plunged into war. Germany, realizing they were likely to face a two-front war, attempted to defeat the western foes before the Russians were able to mobilize their forces in the East (estimated to take six weeks), using the Schlieffen Plan. 

Though the Germans had made a strong offensive into France, French, Belgian, and British forces were able to halt them. However, since they were not able to push the Germans out of France, there was a stalemate and both sides dug into the earth creating a large network of trenches. 

Once the trenches were built, winter rains tried to obliterate them. The rains not only flooded the dug-outs, they turned the trenches into mud holes – a terrible enemy in and of itself. 

It had been pouring, and mud lay deep in the trenches; they were caked from head to foot, and I have never seen anything like their rifles! Not one would work, and they were just lying about the trenches getting stiff and cold. One fellow had got both feet jammed in the clay, and when told to get up by an officer, had to get on all fours; he then got his hands stuck in too, and was caught like a fly on a flypaper; all he could do was look round and say to his pals, ‘For Gawd’s sake, shoot me!’ I laughed till I cried. But they will shake down, directly they learn that the harder one works in the trenches, the drier and more comfortable one can keep both them and oneself.1 
The trenches of both sides were only a few hundred feet apart, buffered by a relatively flat area known as “No Man’s Land.” The stalemate had halted all but a scattered number of small attacks; thus, soldiers on each side spent a large amount of time dealing with the mud, keeping their heads down in order to avoid sniper fire, and watching carefully for any surprise enemy raids on their trench. 

Fraternizing

Restless in their trenches, covered in mud, and eating the same rations every day, some soldiers began to wonder about the un-seen enemy, men declared monsters by propagandists. 

We hated their guts when they killed any of our friends; then we really did dislike them intensely. But otherwise we joked about them and I think they joked about us. And we thought, well, poor so-and-sos, they’re in the same kind of muck as we are. 
The uncomfortableness of living in trenches coupled with the closeness of the enemy who lived in similar conditions contributed to a growing “live and let live” policy. Andrew Todd, a telegraphist of the Royal Engineers, wrote of an example in a letter: 

Perhaps it will surprise you to learn that the soldiers in both lines of trenches have become very ‘pally’ with each other. The trenches are only 60 yards apart at one place, and every morning about breakfast time one of the soldiers sticks a board in the air. As soon as this board goes up all firing ceases, and men from either side draw their water and rations. All through the breakfast hour, and so long as this board is up, silence reigns supreme, but whenever the board comes down the first unlucky devil who shows even so much as a hand gets a bullet through it. 
Sometimes the two enemies would yell at each other. Some of the German soldiers had worked in Britain before the war and asked about a store or area in England that an English soldier also knew well. Sometimes they would shout rude remarks to each other as a way of entertainment. Singing was also a common way of communication. 

During the winter it was not unusual for little groups of men to gather in the front trench, and there hold impromptu concerts, singing patriotic and sentimental songs. The Germans did much the same, and on calm evenings the songs from one line floated to the trenches on the other side, and were there received with applause and sometimes calls for an encore.

After hearing of such fraternization, General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, commander of the British II Corps, ordered: 

The Corps Commander, therefore, directs Divisional Commanders to impress on all subordinate commanders the absolute necessity of encouraging the offensive spirit of the troops, while on the defensive, by every means in their power. 
Friendly intercourse with the enemy, unofficial armistices (e.g. ‘we won’t fire if you don’t’ etc.) and the exchange of tobacco and other comforts, however tempting and occasionally amusing they may be, are absolutely prohibited.

On December 7, 1914, Pope Benedict XV suggested a temporary hiatus of the war for the celebration of Christmas. Though Germany readily agreed, the other powers refused. 

Even without a cessation of war for Christmas, family and friends of the soldiers wanted to make their loved ones’ Christmas special. They sent packages filled with letters, warm clothing, food, cigarettes, and medications. Yet what especially made Christmas at the front seem like Christmas were the troves of small Christmas trees. 

On Christmas Eve, many German soldiers put up Christmas trees, decorated with candles, on the parapets of their trenches. Hundreds of Christmas trees lighted the German trenches and although British soldiers could see the lights, it took them a few minutes to figure out what they were from. Could this be a trick? British soldiers were ordered not to fire but to watch them closely. Instead of trickery, the British soldiers heard many of the Germans celebrating. 

Time and again during the course of that day, the Eve of Christmas, there were wafted towards us from the trenches opposite the sounds of singing and merry-making, and occasionally the guttural tones of a German were to be heard shouting out lustily, ‘A happy Christmas to you Englishmen!’ Only too glad to show that the sentiments were reciprocated, back would go the response from a thick-set Clydesider, ‘Same to you, Fritz, but dinna o’er eat yourself wi’ they sausages!’ 
In other areas, the two sides exchanged Christmas carols. 

They finished their carol and we thought that we ought to retaliate in some way, so we sang ‘The first Noël’, and when we finished that they all began clapping; and then they struck up another favourite of theirs, ‘O Tannenbaum’. And so it went on. First the Germans would sing one of their carols and then we would sing one of ours, until when we started up ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ the Germans immediately joined in singing the same hymn to the Latin words ‘Adeste Fidéles’. And I thought, well, this was really a most extraordinary thing – two nations both singing the same carol in the middle of a war.

The Christmas Truce

This fraternization on Christmas Eve and again on Christmas was in no way officially sanctified nor organized. Yet, in numerous separate instances down the front line, German soldiers began yelling over to their enemy, “Tommy, you come over and see us!”8 Still cautious, the British soldiers would rally back, “No, you come here!” 

In some parts of the line, representatives of each side would meet in the middle, in No Man’s Land. 

We shook hands, wished each other a Merry Xmas, and were soon conversing as if we had known each other for years. We were in front of their wire entanglements and surrounded by Germans – Fritz and I in the centre talking, and Fritz occasionally translating to his friends what I was saying. We stood inside the circle like streetcorner orators. 
Soon most of our company (‘A’ Company), hearing that I and some others had gone out, followed us … What a sight – little groups of Germans and British extending almost the length of our front! Out of the darkness we could hear laughter and see lighted matches, a German lighting a Scotchman’s cigarette and vice versa, exchanging cigarettes and souvenirs. Where they couldn’t talk the language they were making themselves understood by signs, and everyone seemed to be getting on nicely. Here we were laughing and chatting to men whom only a few hours before we were trying to kill!

Some of those who went out to meet the enemy in the middle of No Man’s Land on Christmas Eve or on Christmas Day negotiated a truce: we won’t fire if you won’t fire. Some ended the truce at midnight on Christmas night, some extended it until New Year’s Day. 

One reason Christmas truces were negotiated was in order to bury the dead, many of whom had been there for several months. Along with the revelry that celebrated Christmas was the sad and somber job of burying their fallen comrades. On Christmas day, British and German soldiers appeared on No Man’s Land and sorted through the bodies. In just a few rare instances, joint services were held for both the British and German dead. 

Yet many soldiers enjoyed meeting the un-seen enemy and were surprised to discover that they were more alike than he had thought. They talked, shared pictures, exchanged items such as buttons for food stuffs. An extreme example of the fraternization was a soccer game played in the middle of No Man’s Land between the Bedfordshire Regiment and the Germans. A member of the Bedfordshire Regiment produced a ball and the large group of soldiers played until the ball was deflated when it hit a barbed wire entanglement. 

This strange and unofficial truce lasted for several days, much to the dismay of the commanding officers. This amazing showing of Christmas cheer was never again repeated and as World War I progressed, the story of Christmas 1914 at the front became something of a legend. 

The Christmas Truce 1914

THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY IS YOUR GOD MY FRIEND…

WAR = DEATH

THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY
IS YOUR GOD MY FRIEND

Oh Dear God
Oh see how they bleed
Oh Dear God, my Lord.

Oh Dear God
Oh see how they plead
Oh Dear God, my Lord.

My Lord;
Who we wait for
Scream for
On the battlefields
Of every war

Antagonist.

Protagonist.

Oh thy Lord,

You upon
Our side

Their side.

No questions
No explanations

Asked
Or ever given.

For my brothers
We will see you
Once more & again

In “Heaven”

“Elysium”

Or on the fields of
The Fallen,
And The Honored

“Dead”

Where no uniforms
Are ever worn
As in Valhalla
We all toast

And sing
Another song.

Oh Dear God
Oh see how they bleed
Oh Dear God, my Lord.

Oh Dear God
Oh see how they plead
Oh Dear God, my Lord.

See how they are born
Oh Dear God My Lord

And See how they grow
Oh Dear God My Lord

And Dear God?

See how
They Die

“Alone …Screaming”

Amen.

___________

R.M. ENGELHARDT

People Kill People