Unknown Soldier’s Commentary

I flew backwards
The shrapnel tearing into me
Pin pricks
And I feel the dreaded knife stabs in my knee and foot.
My ears are ringing,
They say it’s cos some fluid in them gets shaken up.
Fucking wrong time to think of biology 101.
Anyway I think
“I have to move”
The barbed wire is just ahead.
Feel for fingers and toes.
Left fingers – check
Right fingers – check
Left toes – check.
Right toes –
I’m a leg short.
Then I think
“Military crawl”
Well then suck it up and crawl.
Left hand forward
The ground burns and trembles. 
Like holding a live coal.
Right hand forward.
I can do this.
Left knee forward  
Right knee – fuck!
The pain of a thousand nut crackers overwhelms me.
A tear trickles down my dirt encrusted face.  
I grit my teeth.
Upper body strength it is.
Push and pull.
Nice and easy.
“Yeah” I say to myself 
Like dragging a broken body is easy.
Everyday of the week stuff.
Push and pull.
Across puddles of drying blood
And what’s left of soldiers.
Friend and enemy alike.
I feel like retching.
Some dude wasn’t so lucky.
Bloody guts spread all over the place.
Well I’m almost there.
Barbed wired safety. 
Then a few yards ahead of me
I see Joe a friend of mine
Well he ain’t no friend
Bully from school.
But he damn near looked friendly to me now
At least until he steps on a mine
And starts raining all over me.
Now I have Joe all over me.
A few yards more.
Push, pull
Man this is some hard shit. 
My helmet scrapes the wire.
I heave a sigh of relief.
Each step brings me home now.
If you can call a trench home.
I push harder.
I can taste Joe’s gray matter in my mouth.
Nasty stuff really.
My stomach finally heaves.
Even in death Joe manages to make me retch.
Real beautiful.
Just as I pull clear of the barbed wire
Ready to fall into the darkness below
I hear a shout.
Then a pimply youth jabs a bayonet at my right leg.
Or he thinks I got a right leg.
Can’t help myself from guffawing.
Then I heave myself
Then I start falling.
That’s till my bootstraps fall in love with the barbed wire.
Now I’m hanging like a bat.
I almost grin
Then I remember pimple face.
Now I start crying.
Each tear drop a waterfall.
“I want to live.”
It’s all I want to do.
I’m bleeding like a stuck pig.
Blistered fingers

All my strength spent.
When he finally finds me.
A morbid grin lights up his face.
Then he sticks his bayonet in my lungs.
The sucking rattle of the knife sliding over my ribs.

It doesn’t hurt funny enough.
“Sounds like a car tyre losing air.”
I try to chuckle.
Damn barbed wire did me good.
Vision slows to a crawl.
Last thoughts?
© Sena Kodjokuma 2014


I Am A Child

I Am A Child

I am invincible.
I am immortal.
I am hope.
I am the future in the present.
I am the legacy of the past.
I am the world’s greatest.
I am a child.

© Sena Kodjokuma 2014

The Kids of Asemkow

Ryan Bolton.

The kids in Ghana are full of life. In all of my travels, they are some of the most happiest, proud and beautiful kids I’ve ever met. And they love to have their photos taken as you will quickly see. I just returned from a 2 week stint photographing with Me to We in small villages along the ocean coast of Ghana. I was tagging along with a great bunch of high school students from Hunstville that were helping build a school for these very kids in Asemkow. The following is a first set of photos from the trip that I will publish. Many more to come.

For now, enjoy these happy faces of Ghana.

Ghana Kids 1 Shot in Asemkow, Ghana. Photo by Ryan Bolton.

Ghana Kids 2 Shot in Asemkow, Ghana. Photo by Ryan Bolton.

Ghana Kids 3 Shot in Asemkow, Ghana. Photo by Ryan Bolton.

Ghana Kids 4 Shot in Asemkow, Ghana. Photo by Ryan Bolton.

Kids in Ghana 21 Shot in…

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Thinking About You

Thinking About You

If today
was the last day of my life,

And my mind
was deluded in strife,

While the
poison of lead coursed through me,

settling in my tummy,

I would
think of you.

If we never
spoke again,

And I had
to be ferried across the river by a boatswain

So your
voice would not echo in my head

emotions like thread

I would
think of you.

If I had to
put my eyes out

So as to
conceal your pretty pout

Or glimpse
into your soul

To never
see the burning Sol

I would
think of you.

If all I
have of you,

memories in the bayou,

Of moonlit
nights and the loup-garou

Or funny
pictures of you and a kangaroo

I would
think of you.

I will
always love you.

Even force
my head to agree too.

For that
moment in time we shared,

Was my
favourite bed spread

So I would
think of you.

© Sena Kodjokuma 2014

The One Thing Christians Should Stop Saying

Read my thoughts exactly. Being blessed has little to do with the material reward. Thank you

The Accidental Missionary

*Writers note:  After reading your comments, I have been moved to revise the following piece.  In a post where the main point is to encourage others to be aware of how our choice of words can get in the way of conveying our true intent, I realize the irony that my choosing to refer to my lack of understanding of God’s purpose as “dumb luck” caused some folks to miss the meaning of the post itself.  Silly me.  While people may still disagree, I think this slightly revised version better captures my honest intent.

I was on the phone with a good friend the other day.  After covering important topics, like disparaging each other’s mothers and retelling semi-factual tales from our college days, our conversation turned to the mundane.

“So, how’s work going?” he asked.

For those of you who don’t know, I make money by teaching leadership skills and…

View original post 1,180 more words



I start and I stop

And wonder why the clouds never drop

And instead make my clothes flop.

Raindrops prance on my roof; clip clop.

Annoying chore; going mop mop mop.

Chasing mud and water from the top.

Little wonder rainy days are a sour sop.

They leave dead leaves and nasty brown slop.

And smells to make your ears lop.


© Sena Kodjokuma, 2014