Poems about army

I picture myself with an army
An army with strife and vigilance
An army crooked next to the snaking pearl shoreline
Filling the air shimmering with good vigor
I imagine an army bristle with accordance
When a dragon take its destructive toll
An army marching the vast grassy planes
An army with cook pits twinkling at night
As if gazing onto a heavenly hearth
I want to lead an army who wouldn't think twice
About letting down their swords when the
Fight needs not to die
An army of ordinary men
An ordinary tale
Marching when their need is high

An army of what?
An army of whom
Simply an army of ordinary minds
Simply an army of extraordinary minds

When the red and brown are branded upon the fallen dead leaves,
And when the Summer sun is constrained in heavily bounded sheaves,
When the bright moon is concealed in the dark cloudy sky,
And when the wind picks up the forgotten leaves, passing by,
When the streets are shrouded in thick grey fog,
And when the sky is full of avast black smog,

The Holy city lay in silence among the bright yellow stars,

When the bells ring to the outset of midnight,
And when every soul of the Holy city lay in fright,
The rumbling of wheels could be heard,
But what could have made this stir?
It surely had to be exceedingly absurd,
For not a single soul had wandered the stone street,
For not a single soul was riding there wooden box seat,
And when the sound of cannons rolled across the rocky street,
And when the sound of the nation marched across the concrete,
But what could have made this stir?
It surely had to be exceedingly absurd,
For not a single soul had wandered the stone street,
For not a single soul was working the heavy afflictive artillery,
And when the laundress woke in fright, and would sit upright,
Her husband would reply, “Go back to sleep, it's midnight, ”

For countless long days she would regularly hear,
The heavy rolling wheels and the thumps of the heavy grinding gear,
She would hear the many faint, suppressed muffled voices,
Discussing about their greatly weakened forces,
When the laundress awoke the following day,
And when the sun would rise above the long blue bay,

The Holy city lay in silence among the sun baked concrete,

When the Laundress asked the Lady next door, “what are the mysterious sounds I hear every night”
And the Lady would reply, “It is the sound of the long lost confederate soldiers as they fight, "
"Not knowing they had died as they wake up each midnight, "
The Laundress was shocked at such a reply,
For she could not deny, the great imply,
And for the next night she slipped out of bed,
To watch the powerful Army of Dead,
She stood spellbound as the fog rolled by the windows,
And within the fog the could see the shapes of horses and many shadows,
She could hear many gruff human voices,
Of soldiers dragging cannons across with no traces,
She could hear the rumbling of wagons crossing the street,
Followed by many strong marching feet,
She watched ambulances blaring by,
And she could see horsemen and footsoldiers nearby,
She could see wagons pass the lay-by
And she could see the canons with their ammo supply,
For she could not decry,
As it had passed right before her eyes,

But all was shrouded in grey,

All of the sudden a blast could be heard,
Moments later, the boisterous sound blurred,
As the thick grey fog began to lift,
The powerful Army of Dead began to drift,
And when the Laundress snapped from her spellbound,
She felt a tingle in her arm and found,
She was greatly terrified,
For her left arm was paralyzed,
And the Holy city lay in silence among the bright yellow stars,

I remember the morning Tuesday was invented—
How gleeful we sang across the streets—
Forgetting that the day after tomorrow would be Thor's day
And that one we didn't own, too.

I remember the bathroom stalls, the sins of Leviticus
We survived
Comforting our confusion with the indulgence that God too
Love man, kind.

Let the purgatory full of half good men sing about their sins
With pride and laugh at the moons and stars for being without limbs
And tongues to protest their innocence and Idontgiveadamnisms;

For I remember being fed the tenets of heterosexual history in elementary school
Yet wondering why queer gods are the ones named after the planets.

Here we are,
The mighty army of misfits
Gathered together
And even though the threat of
Torrential downpour looms over us,
The drizzle doesn't seem to matter.
We sing and dance,
Chant poetry as if
It's a religious hymn.
This small voice in me --
Withered and stripped down --
Is no longer so.
With the voice of my army
We can crumble the mountains
That stand in our way,
Part the oceans
That keep us apart.
Here we are,
The mighty army of misfits,
And we will not leave
Without a fight.

I understand now
That you have some
Preconceived notion
That you are special
Well please, do tell all
From whom told you this
Do you even recall

Well... eh... it's hard to explain

Well out with it boy
Who gave you such fame

It wasn't a man like you and I
Nor was it a voice for all to find
But a direct message
Like a light from inside
A glow in all of us
Just dimmed until it's your time
They are building an army
But not of the traditional kind
But an army of believers
Conceptual conceivers
The artists, the poets
The true believers
This whole world in its design
Was meant as a test
For all human kind
But left to our own will
We chose destruction
We chose to kill
So it's time to intervene
Redirection through misdirection
For our protection
( I mean look at the election)
I am to help lead this army
To help take off this Neisse
Cause our existence
So minuscule
But to us
It's our proof

Oh so you say
We're in a downward spiral
Like damn Daniel this virus
Is about to go viral
This light as you say
Wants us to change our ways
And make life a little more worthwhile

Exactly

Haha don't be silly boy
Your just messed up in the head
Your daddy just dropped you
Or you ate paint with the lead
I own half of the oil in the Middle East
I have 84 cars
And 20 homes at least
I am the American Dream
All aspire to be me
So from what I've retrieved
This little voice in your head
Is as crazy as you seem

Ah man... This is going to be
Much harder than you explained
It to be.

Decently indecent -

The life of a scamp
Moving like a tramp.

To have his foot prints stamp
On the shore for ever.

He preaches to
Die hard,

And says to
Live it easy.

Like a child
Without going wild

His motto is
A fight for
The right
Without flight

A band of soldiers
The world prayers are with you
Never Forgotten

No tactics
No manoeuvres
No turncoats
No back-stabbing
No power struggles
No 'friendly fire'
No deserters
No traitors...

No problem.