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A Soldier's Book of Poems: Poems 13, Fourteen & 15.

Updated: Oct 15, 2023


How hauntingly beautiful, yet frightening

It gathers and mingles, from a myriad of sources

Each one as destructive as the other

Heavy debris settles, yet it remains

A reminder to the horror that has been unleased

A warning of potential danger to others

Cloaking the vision of the present, hoping to cloak the vision of the future

It has no feelings of remorse, yet no feelings of achievement

At times it seems to weave in and out of areas and around obstacles, as if not wanting to be stopped

Yet, other times It seems to cling to objects, as if holding on to its own life

Not wanting to succumb to the elements which will destroy it



The world is changing in so many ways

On the verge of chaos every day

It’s hard to imagine why it would start

The killing of children, the burning of art

It’s been this way since the dawn of time

Your God is wrong, because he’s not mine

To kill for religion, a must they are told

God wills it, and that’s how it is sold

I don’t understand how their ranks seem to fill

If Allah is all powerful, why does he need your help to kill


The leaders, full of intolerance


The seed that seems to sprout violence


Man wrote the scripture, not women, not child

She must be burnt, she’s a witch, she is wild

She gave her opinion, the book won’t allow it

So man will decide when her cross should be lit

God’s word is clear, and must be obeyed

I am his messenger, on your knees for forgiveness you must pray

You can’t interpret yourself, just believe what I say

You must kill unbelievers, Allah wills it that way

Deity names may be different, the violence the same

The young do the killing, the older Teacher to blame

A man of the clothe must not take a wife

But fulfills his desires and destroys a young life

The leaders see nothing, it’s easier that way

But the carnal perversion continues day after day

If he is discovered, to a new parish he must go

But he is still happy, more seeds he can sow

The new parish unknowing, open arms he is given

The Vatican sees no harm, he is apparently forgiven

The abuse just continues, day after day

I am a man of the clothe, God wills it this way


How many wars have been fought


It’s for God, that is the way we are taught


Millions have been killed


Won’t Allah be thrilled

Go to the Vatican, the opulence quite clear

It’s all for God, have now worries, do not fear

Billions in artifacts, just there on display

Thousands in revenue, day after day

We know there is starving, we know there is anguish

But our money is for God, let the UN feed the famished

We need massive churches; we need all the believers’ money

We need opulent lives, full of wine and honey

Our bank accounts stay full, day after day

We understand there is suffering, but God wills it this way.


The basic premise is sound


Not violence, on peace it was found


Just one sentence to put on the shelf


Do onto others, as you would want done to yourself




Broken by a sharp crack

An instrument of anger slices through the air

It has no conscience

It does not care

Slamming into flesh and bone

Ripping through her heart, her soul


broken by a thump

A body falls to the ground

Drained of life and hope

On her way home with the groceries

What had she done

She was no soldier

She carried no gun


Broken by the cries of a child

He sits at the window

To watch his mother come home

He sees her, he smiles

She falls, she is gone

He does not understand

But knows he is alone


Broken only by despair.


My previous post left off with my wife, new daughter and myself being posted to Esquimalt, B.C. after spending 3 1/2 years up in Haida Gwaii. I really enjoyed my time in British Columbia. It was both challenging and rewarding. It most certainly was life changing. I sailed aboard HMCS Algonquin, where this army green Corporal sat somewhat strapped in my chair with rope and my chair with wheels was also secured with rope. Coming out of the Straits of Juan de Fuca in a storm. I was working in the Electronic Warfare Equipment Room, within the highest working part of the Ship, referred to as Top-Part Ship. Thankfully, that was the only time I have been sea sick.

My second sailing was aboard the USS Coronado. The US 3rd Fleet Command Ship. I was the night shift Signals Intelligence (SIGINT) Supervisor. I had re-attained my rank of Master Corporal and was surprised to receive my promotion to Sergeant. I was most certainly a picture of tri-service dress and deportment; wearing Canadian Naval Combat Dress, with my green army belt and my green beret, promoted to the rank of Sergeant with Air Force rank slip-ons. That was the only rank appropriate epaulets they could get. I was promoted/pinned by Rear-Admiral Brown, Commander of the US Third Fleet. The next day my awesome Canadian boss, Lieutenant-Commander Paul Grimshaw asked me if I would accept a recommendation to Commission From the Ranks (CFR) as an Intelligence Officer. The CFR Program is not one a Non-Commissioned Member (NCM) can apply for, you can only be recommended. Sergeant was the minimum rank needed to be CFR'd and the next initial Selection process was beginning in days. My boss faxed my recommendation from Sea. Of the many days I could have been informed that I had been selected to be CFR'd, I was informed on my birthday, while visiting the Vancouver Aquarium with my Family. A Soldier's Book of Poems: Poems 13, Fourteen & 15.

I will continue my story with my next poem/s.

As noted before, I did not place my name and date of completion with my earlier poems. However, all of the poems from my book are copyright protected. E.J.R. Hardy.

a soldier with hands on his head ptsd

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