Warrior’s Lament – Ballad of a Bodyguard – Part One

by | Dec 1, 2008 | Poetry | 0 comments

I guess I was lucky
no PTSD,
terminal boredom
did it for me.

Civvy street –
just a good doddle,
guarding a
famous young model.

No bivvies, no packs
no sergeants, no sand,
no leaving your blood
in a hot foreign land.

The money was good,
four times the pay,
a flat and a car
and three meals a day.

Out on the town
with footballer’s wives,
no incoming fire
to threaten your lives.

No fun
with your mates,
time to mope

after 6 months
I just couldn’t cope

then took
a few of some
low level drugs.
whisky or two
not many slugs.

and I hit the deck,
brought her down with me,
damaged her neck,

down on the pavement
there cheek to cheek

she gave me my cards
at the end of the week.

Out on the street
nowhere to go,
no car and no flat
no one to know.

A bed in the barracks,
a rifle, a pack –
at the drop of a coin I would
take it all back.

You might
think of change
as fire fights begin
when the RPGs
start homing on in

Your heart in your mouth,
your bowels in your boots
you might think of looking
for shiny new suits

and a job as BG
for wags and for stars,
celebrity parties
coke sex or cars.

But just let me tell you,
it’s all a façade
the money is easy,
but earning it’s hard.

it’s all glitz and glitter
no duty, no pride
no sense of service
no meaning inside

I guess I was lucky
no PTSD –
it was terminal boredom
that did it for me.

……..to be continued.


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