Coping
Coping
Recalling the lyrics of a gentle love song
Helps to drive unwelcome thoughts away;Building dream castles in your mind
Serves to keep the ghosts at bay…
“My romance doesn’t need
A castle rising in Spain,
Nor a dance to a constantly
Surprising refrain…”*
But you need the pleasant memories
The words conjure up to help as a
Buffer against recurring pain.
“No month of may, no twinkling stars,
No hideaway, no soft guitars…”*
Dammit! Faintly, a guitar begins to weep
And the aroma of napalm starts to seep
Into feverish thoughts as rifles crack.
So much for curbing this flashback.
© 10/18/2009 T.P. Woodfork
*My Romance Lyrics by Lorenz Hart,
Music by Richard Rodgers
Not ready to walk alone...
Not ready to walk alone…
Hearts full of wonder
In the distance yonder
Visions of thee sittin’
Keepin’ me full of wishin’
Tryin’ hard to think good
Positive is best understood
Not lettin’ the negativity
Take root in my sensitivity
You’re a part of my life
Seen good and my strife
Don’t leave my presence
And keep me in avoidance
War buddies near and far
Is a part of your life ‘n more
The bond, the brothers have
Are like a treatment of salve
Folks should understand
Their PTSD will withstand
Forgive me if I forget that
You Warriors fought in combat
But for now, in the today
Please, take note what I say
I’m not ready to walk alone
There’ll be sufferin’ if you’re gone
©Copyright 23 August 2009
MahTame
Perhaps...
Perhaps…
You say you’re a warrior and came from the war of ‘
Yet you have no time to meet a brother that has fought too
Introductions were frivolous to your egoistic personality
Perhaps all glory and fame is what is really in your view
Claiming a veteran status vocally as if you own the world
Like receiving some kind of regal ownership with pride
How disappointing to see a personal brush-off and unkind
Perhaps it is you that needs to be made more humble inside
He is an honored Vietnam Veteran, fought in that ugly war
You were the same, yet I hear you never really was in battle
Stationed at your base, behind the scenes, in more civil duty
Perhaps you’d better think before you dance with your rattle
Kiowa Warriors that have gone off to battle in far off lands
Are fierce fighters, readily sacrificing all for our country
This one, Tsa-koy, He is your brother too, he fought there too
Perhaps, dear sir, you have shown an ugly side of bigotry
We are a proud people, we sing and dance and honor you
The Warrior, the Veteran, from all wars from all of time
Do not disgrace yourself, nor close your heart to others
Perhaps you need to learn our ancestral teachings aforetime
©Copyright 07 July 2009; MahTame
Some folks are just that. Folks!
Some folks are just that. Folks!
Some folks don’t understand
When time is called for a war
Fighting another goes against
What the Bible says no more
Some folks claim patriotism
But supporting returning men
From their countries’ tour duty
They ignore or give recognition
Some folks cry out hatefulness
For a meaningless cause of action
Their heartless daggers thrown
To their own people of their nation
Some folks would rather no war
Nor support their countrymen
But mistreat in despising protest
Using demeaning names there-in
Some folks, like me, don’t like it
Especially during the ‘
As a young rebellious girl then
Voiced my dislikes and much more
But, some folks never heard me
I never participated in a protest
Just voiced my concerns in class
While the pros and cons express
Folks like me, grew up and learned
What happened and why with ‘
Had family die or maimed or sick
I’m very glad they made it back home
Now folks in this new generation
See war as it is, a repeat of others
The Bible never changed its word
About fighting and killing of sirs
Some folks that have fought afar
Have horrible memories of trauma
Nightmares and frights continue
As life goes on with its drama
©Copyright 17 April 2009, MahTame
No memory of blood in 'Nam
No memory of blood in ‘Nam
he humped the jungle floor
the enemy all around them
snipers on both sides shoot
bullets flying all about him
hearing the screaming men
hollering muffled amid fire
watching his buddy holding
his belly; then death retire
shrapnel piercing their flesh
making holes and abrasions
nary a soul could escape this
battling of enemy occasions
crawling and humping more
into the barricading safety
of their company battalion
hiding feelings of nonsurety
he ne’er saw the blood bath
some forty years later still
no recollection of seeing that
a memory protecting at will
knowing it was there, for sure
no odor of it’s decaying smell
cannot be recalled to this day
but he lives to know and retell
young soldier then, older now
words of his time in the war
Vietnam added to his traumas
of life, death, horror and gore
©Copyright 19 March 2009
MahTame
dedicated to a Native American Marine Vietnam Veteran
THE LETTER
THE LETTER
The letter started off in the usual way
I read it quickly to see what she’d say
The weather is warm and she’s so tan
But she has to sleep nude under a fan
Doesn’t she know what that does to me
Stuck way over here far across the sea?
Pictures I have made in my mind’s eye
Of that bare body makes me want to cry
I’d be with her had we gone to Canada
After our getting hitched up in Nevada
We could’ve Honeymooned in the wood
To hope our families might’ve understood
That we were running away out of fear
But I’m over here with the Grim Reaper
What’s this in her last line of her letter
She’s tired of waiting and wants better
It’s too lonely to just sit at home alone
She wants some fun before she is grown
She’s dating Joe, my best traitorous pal
I’d never thought he’d try to get my gal
“Dear John’s” were funny once upon a time
When somebody else’s the butt of the crime
But when it is this personal it sure does hurt
This letter was short and it was painfully curt
This whole thing is screwin’ my mind up bad
I’m so stunned by this shit I’m not even sad
And tonight I’m scheduled to go out on patrol
That’s OK as I wanna bust a cap on an asshole
I keep thinking what I’d do if I was back there
This whole fuckin’ world is so gawdamned unfair
Maybe a Puff of the Dragon will get me numb
I don’t want to think, I just wanna be dumb.
Maybe the Stoners have really got it right
None of them are wound up this damn tight
If I do gotta go out in that Bush tonight
I won’t be so scared if we get in a firefight
Just enough so I will be acting so way cool
And forget my girl and pal, the damn fool
Yeah, that’s what I’ll do and I won’t get hooked
Maybe I’ll even sneak off and be overlooked.
© Spider ‘09
SPIDER
* Author * Artist * Teacher * Consultant *
-early american hippy artwork-
~~Vietnam Veteran of the U.S. Army Special Forces
Spider passed away on June 24, 2009. Here is a link dedicated to his memory,
you can view his other works through the link as well. May he be in peace now. mccampos aka mahtame
Medic
Medic
I still can see her standing there
And pausing at the door
That night she said goodbye
Because she had no room for more
She'd stood there in my tempest
Faced the fire inside of me
She placed her love upon my scars
To mend what shouldn't be
Her heart had grown too heavy
With what can't be understood
She bandaged up my wounds and did
Those things she knew she could
There was no anger in the air
Just sadness in our eyes
She had lifted me much further
Than she ever realized
She left me standing there alone
Filled up with her depart
But she'd stayed long enough
To stop the bleeding in my heart
Delta
Blue
14 February 2009
All Rights Reserved
I Wouldn't Want to Remember Either
I Wouldn’t Want to Remember Either
I wouldn’t want to remember either
The ramifications that’s left in a mind
Images as clear as a sunny day refer
Constantly to torn up bodies of kind
Fears, chaotic noises, shots, mortars
Putrid smells permeated past the nose
Disquieting thoughts replay all wars
While watching the dead lie in repose
Heroic feats display in honorableness
In memorial statues, walls, ‘n museums
Innumerable dates of ceremoniousness
Or lectures of battles given in auditoriums
Some soldiers do not wish to be a hero
And claim it was all of duty to country
‘Tis a job’ one must complete and go
In seeking freedom from the evil enemy
I wouldn’t want to remember the ugliness
Nor to return home to hateful behaviors
Were you aware of the accountableness
Of killing others for a country’s abhors?
If only one could calm the tide of trauma
That resides inside one’s memory ‘n soul
In finding peacefulness from shit’s drama
Is what I wish for you warriors as a whole!
©Copyright 06 February 2009, MahTame
Welcome Home, Cpl. Warren Queton!
Welcome Home, Cpl. Warren Queton!
It was a good day for the homecoming Pow-wow
Honoring Veteran Warrior CPL. Warren Queton
We, his friends and family, are quite thankful now
The center drum pounded along with a heartbeat
Scalp Dance and Victory Dance songs first sung
Women and young ladies participated in this feat
‘Tso-lah! It is good!’ the inner feeling portrayed
With the warrior’s lance or with fan of feather
She used in sync of each hard beat that was made
Such beautiful songs of ‘Red Wolf’ sung aloud
With fervor participation of the “Tiah-Pah Dance”
Men, women, young and old ne’er felt so proud!
May your days be full ‘n freer now, safer to roam
Continuing your studies and further education
We say, with gratified hearts: “Welcome home!”
©Copyright 01 February 2009 ~~MahTame~~
Bring my Warrior Home, Morning Star
~Bring my Warrior Home, Morning Star~
Morning star, shine down on the prairie
Light up the path for my weary Warrior
He has gone away to hunt for us to eat
Darkness keeps returning without him
Guide him, morning star, lead the path
Where he has traveled, bring him home
Patiently she awaits his return, his maiden,
Tending to his tepee with loving care
She sings soft Kiowa songs into the wind
As it blows unto the prairie grasses high
Carrying along the scent of cedar and sage
And up into the valley and mountains yon
Into the horizon and yonder, beyond the sky
Shine the way, Morning star, bring him home
©Copyright 30 December 2008, MahTame
Received 04 January 2009
http://iwvpa.net/awards/index_dta.php
been trained
been trained
dad, mom, I been trained
to do things you taught me
far from what was ingrained
against the killing of my enemy
now, I’m fighting in a war
killing if I have to. mom ‘n dad
in and out of death, blood and gore
can’t even cry, but far from glad
they say we fight for freedom
and peace in this foreign land
definitely no time for boredom
need to keep following the command
dad, mom, tell lil bro and lil sis
to be good and stay out of trouble
fightin’ in war definitely isn’t bliss
and seeing other kids living in rubble
and mom, dad my heart is real heavy
been trained to kill when it’s due
seen many buddies die during our duty
can’t erase their faces from my view
how long is the hour of the day
nights seem an eternity of time
but we have been trained to always obey
the orders to kill in this ugly war’s grime
when I get home, I hope to un-train
the goals of searching out the enemy
don’t want to kill nobody ever again
it’s terrible, mom, dad, especially for me
©Copyright 16 December 2008
MahTame
They say this is an honor day...
They say this is an honor day…
They say this is an honor day
For veterans of past and present
Warriors dutifully served country
While anti-war protestors resent
They say this is an honor day
Ceremonies present honorees
With medals of gallant awards
For heroic and courageous deeds
They say this is an honor day
Recognizing those who fought
In battles from WWI to the now
Seeking the enemy is what’s taught
They say this is an honor day
Men and women of different races
Travel to other countries to fight
To return home to racist disgraces
They say this is an honor day
Fathers, brothers, pals, ‘n buddies
Remembered for who they represent
Marine, Army and Air Force, or Sailors
They say this is an honor day
I’ve got Warriors in my family, too
We respect them daily as honorable men
Just not for the wars they’ve been to
©Copyright 11 November 2008
MahTame
The Stuff of Dreams and When will these nightmares end?
The Stuff of Dreams
Fitful dreams besiege you during many long, melancholy nights,
You fret and tremble at the recurrence of so many dreadful sights
That you fervently pray will finally fade, be forever gone…
They became integral parts of your being from that first patrol on.
How can you forget holding bleeding friends cradled in your arms
Knowing nothing you do or say can erase the grievous harm -
The violation done to them by this Glorious Thing called Battle
Which treats those on both sides like so much worthless chattel?
What’s so glorious about wearing the same malodorous clothes for days,
Humping your sweating, weary body through jungles like a maze,
To finally reach your objective, dog-tired clear through to the bone,
Only to be told, ‘Never mind, boys; hang it up; come on back ‘home’?
Or worse, ambushed, pinned down, trying to become one with dirt
Feeling that your pounding heart will burst right through your shirt,
You find yourself praying to a God you suddenly worship and revere,
“Please, Lord, just let me survive long enough to get away from here!”
No wonder you remember, whether awake or in sleeping dreams,
The pain-wracked faces of a dying friends, hear their agonized screams.
Time hasn’t erased deeply etched scenes engraved in your mind
Or granted you the healing peace you’ve tried so desperately to find.
Though not a soul points a finger, you’ve chosen to carry such blame,
Perhaps one day you’ll realize mere survival is no reason for shame.
Until that blessed day arrives, for you not even the bitterest tears
Can wash away dark memories that keep recurring through the years.
“We are such stuff as dreams are made on…”
© Thurman P. Woodfork 7/20/2008
********************************************************
When will these nightmares end?
When will these nightmares end?
Vivid, action driven dreams
Repeatedly mindful of twisted portend
Awakened again with terrorizing screams
What is it that one must understand?
Such horror tales mixed up
Warrior’s battles, killing, dying, and
Memories can’t withstand its changeup
When will the tormented soul rest?
Truly free from their past
Victims become survivors lest
Fallen under a visiting haunted cast
What is it that others must understand?
The senses of memories agone
Relive through body and mind command
Shuddering ripple through what’s foregone
When will peacefulness set in our sleep?
‘N bring in quietude’s tranquility
Allow the much needed relief to seep
Into weary souls and release vulnerability
©Copyright 21 July 2008
MahTame
~~Inspired from the above poem~~
Nightmare's Crimes of War
Nightmare’s Crimes of War
I’ve visited a warrior’s nightmare
Shadows of haunting silhouettes
Brothers and enemies both share
All death, dying, mutilated threats
Unending screams and shouts echo
Through eons of bloodied wars
Dreams repeatedly come and go
Defying all odds to end all horrors
Repugnant odors wreaking havoc
Intermixed with decay and napalm
Wish to vomit up war’s sick epoch
Rare is the peaceful second of calm
I’ve heard the warrior’s deep cry
Muffled sobs hidden behind walls
Warding off collaged images defy
Never ending hollering and squalls
Dreaded night hour keeps arriving
Avoiding natural sleep at all times
Hoping for some relief to surviving
The effects of nightmare’s crimes
©Copyright 18 July 2008
MahTame
'make love, not war'
‘make love, not war’
twisted night
drummed up
in a whirlwind
of LSD’s flight
psychedelic
rock and roll
wasting away
with smoke’s relic
mind expand
‘far out man’
groovy calls
into war’s land
experiments in
social love
as soldiers
battling to win
veins riddled
bloodied drug
or shot up
from ‘Nam’s dread
numb the soul
‘make love,
not war’
is flower child’s goal
©Copyright
28 June 2008
MahTame
recieved award 07/03/2008:
young warrior
young warrior
p’ah-be, you are sad
you must return
to your duty
in war’s ugly
destination façade
such a young warrior
two weeks leave
zoomed quickly
awww my p’ah-be
time to return to war
shed a tear or two
p’ah-be
release them
as you travel
we bid you adieu
hang on to your
Kiowa pride
a strong
T’on-Kon-Gaht
Warrior
war is inevitable
while man
creates ruin
for others
p’ah-be, it’s abhorrible
come back, p’ah-be
life is short
you’re still young
stay brave and strong
while you face the enemy
‘twas not Creator’s
purpose for man
to war
one day, p’ah-be
it will be no more
©Copyright 23 June 2008
MahTame
Life Goes On
Life Goes On
Although his war has long been done
Nightly battles are still lost and won;
Rifles chatter, and mortars fire,
Men lie dying in bloody mire.
Earplugs are useless against the cries…
A buddy writhes in his mind and dies.
He sees it, clear as morning light -
In a skirmish fought behind eyes closed tight.
It all drifts away with the coming of dawn,
He rises, determined to carry on;
Although his war has long been done,
This old battle has yet to be won.
© 6/9/2008 T. P. Woodfork
Your tears will come, my friend...
Our Warrior's Gone
Our Warrior’s Gone
In the clearing of dawn’s mist
Stands a lone warrior facing death
His people slaughtered all around
Taking in a long cleansing breath
Prairie wind blowing across land
Caressing his mournful soul’s tear
Sweet grass and sage scented air
Awaits for his expiration held dear
He’s fought hard to protect home
Kept family from harm’s way a lot
Such high honors given him now
What you’ve done; ne’er be forgot
©Copyright 09 April 2008
MahTame
MILESTONE?
I just saw a headline saying we were nearing 4000 casualties in the war.
MILESTONE?
Four thousand dead...a milestone
His name forever known.
A dubious claim to fame
In future books of history.
But what of all the others
Like number eight or sixty three?
Will only friends remember names
Of friends who died too young?
Will only families shed a tear
At the death of someone near?
And will there be a monument
To all the fallen dead?
Each one of them are milestones,
Each one forever known.
'Four thousand dead' the newsman said
As if he said just one.
They call this man a milestone.
I call this boy my son.
22 Mar 08
©Copyright alan winters
Dedicated to all Warriors: For you my friend, my pal
Come Back Soldier Buddy...
Come Back Soldier Buddy…
Sent on a medical mission
Amidst the enemy’s territory
Being shot at; men hidden
Fallen down is our ole buddy
“Hold on!” his friend cries
While others crouch under fire
“Come back, soldier” as he dies
Helpless in the middle of all ire
Heavy hearts outweigh the mind
Carried home to life’s reality
To where many are quite blind
Of what was seen in war’s plea
Occupational hazard; maimed
Or distracted thoughts of fighting
Can’t disquiet what was aimed
At the mind, the soul, or living
Mourn for your fallen comrade
Cry silent tears as life continues
Memories never fade of the lad
As holding him closely subdues
Come back, soldier, friend, buddy
Don’t leave us; we need you here
Please hang on, pal, dear old crony
We’d rather keep you always near
©Copyright 03/16/2008 MahTame
Surviving 'Nam's Hell
Some memories are best left behind
Some memories are best left behind
Memories of the 60’s yesteryear
Growing up in a time frame
Where warriors fought in ‘
Slogans of ‘make love, not war’
Plastered on signs, cars, jeans
Down with that war! Damn it!
Long haired hippie flower child
LSD, acid, mary jane, psychedlia
60’s rock and roll was the IT thing
Political demonstrations, for peace?
Freedom of speech taken to a max
Opposite sat the good ole smiley face
Great men shot down, assassinated
“Peace” was wanted, but inequality
Continues to be an issue among races
The cry to end the war was sounded
When it finally did, spit hit their faces
Our soldiers, our warriors mistreated
What hypocrisy!! What cruel disdain!!
The welcoming home and parades
Were so grand to the invisible eye
History has its facts and fables
Stories passed down, experiences felt
The 60’s was just a part of one’s life
But for our brothers, our warriors
The life served in ‘
Some flashbacks are wished nonexistent
©Copyright 02/18/2008 MahTame
rant
rant
it’s because of greedy man
that want what is not his
or desires more than he affords
money, property, and vanities
it’s because of selfish man
not satisfied with his things
eyes focused on supreme
world rulership of all beings
it’s because of crooked man
stealing from anybody’s gain
taking in all vanities and pride
for false teachings he will attain
it’s because of wickedness and
evil doers; far from God’s word
there is always a resolution to all
but brutal, cruel reality is preferred
it’s not what I want, nor do you
to see these ugly, horrific scenes
sending heroes off to war for home
killing with guns and war machines
©Copyright 02/12/2008
MahTame
Soldier Buddies
Soldier Buddies
Through bleak thicks and thins
They were shipped to far away lands
From their country and from home
They had to fight under enemy hands
Many sacrifices made from men
Women too, carried arms into war
Comrades, they held a mutual bond
To help them get through hell and gore
One falls asleep, the other fights it
No real pillow to lay one’s weary head
Mortars blaring, bullets flying, chaos
Even the night sky shined brightly red
In the cold, wet, rain, or hot humidity
The stench from explosions or death
Entered these buddies like sponges
Rarely escaping out of one’s breath
Soldiers of war, many started out young
And aged rapidly in the heat of battle
Some were barely seventeen and strong
Some returned and trained not to tattle
Soldier buddies they had become
Like brothers in the same family shared
Realizing this deep relationship is hard
By many who don’t understand or cared
©Copyright 02/02/2008 MahTame
Warrior's Spirit
Warrior's Spirit
© 2008
CreativeVibes
Warriors today fight many wars here at home and on distant shores
They are still determined, brave as in the past and honor bound
Still they protect and guard the weak just as Warriors of the past
Using their principals, honor, and dignity to keep them strong to
stand their ground
Our Warriors today may not wear buckskins or paint up their face
it's true,
They do not carry bows and arrows, or ride a horse to battle with
lance in hand
And today they may wear jeans, t-shirt, skirt, or suit and tie,
Many wear an Armed Forces uniform in which to bravely make their
stand
Warriors battle everyday with knowledge from the past and with
present new ways
Fighting global warming and environmental foggy haze
While still fighting indifference and apathy daily they will battle
on
Using their minds and many new weapons invented in our time and days
Though today they have the same burdens as our Warriors of past
And many new wrongs to right, they will fight fiercely and not give
in
For now they come from many Tribes and Clans to fight to make things
right
Together, day by day, month by month, year by year they fight to win
Warriors never forget ancestors are always close to guide
They know to listen with all their senses, to see not with just
their eyes
To look for answers within and all around and seek council when they
need
To do all they can for the people and Mother Earths land with truth
and not lies
*Original Art © C.R. John 1958-2000 (Cheyenne/Santee Sioux) taken from http://www.native-americans.org/newsletter/newsletter.htm
SACRIFICED
One legged soldier
One legged soldier
Soldier from a war of long ago
Sitting in an old wheelchair
On the side of the highway
Holding up a “homeless” sign
‘Tis cold out sir,’ here’s a five’
“God Bless You,” and “thanks”
Trying to sit himself back down
In his old wheelchair in the cold
What were you like before the war?
What was your purpose in life then?
Soldier from a war of long ago
Living with one leg, barely alive
Has not made it back to reality
No real home, no real life, nothing
You put yourself up for your country
You sacrificed yourself for freedom
Now you’re back home on the street
What honor has brought you here?
©Copyright 01/19/2008 MahTame
Soldier's Heart
by Gary Jacobson © September 2007
A soldier’s heart beats within me
Call it the vapors, battle fatigue, PTSD...
For me it's living insanity, you see
Still inside I feel the bestial ogre's caress
Carried from yellowed fields of combat stress
Which long ago left my world a motley mess
Eternally enlisted in hell’s vile red stream
Days of yore still staining nightmare’s dream
Roam wherein I die a thousand times
Commit beaucoup carnal crimes.
I walk intertwined jungle bowels of hell
Show passport stamps to Hades as well
Hear dreadful sound of guns
Revisit daily war’s blazing suns
My discordant mind again and again
Lost in verdant underworld yet again
Smelling battles decayed cordite mist and vapor
Reliving wartime terrors in youthful caper
Where sandbox memories rule sun-splashed days
Filling sweet-and-sour nights with combat forays.
A soldier’s heart sees desparation still
In every man I spy, a shadowed assassin’s eye
Forever back in a land where still
People horribly die
Where still
Waiting for those aiming to kill...
I kill
Still sweating in contentious combat drill
Rising anxieties besmirching a fragile mind fleeting
Marching forever to endure once more the killing.
A soldier’s heart feels intimately sore pain
Dancing in an addled brain
Driving me nigh insane
Throbbing in memoriam psychological
Pulsating with dinky dau rhythms pathological
Palpitating nightmarish flashbacks
Drumming on the senses virulent attacks
Disruptive uneasiness in worried anxiety
Awakening combat's somber memory
Both good and bad falling on me accusatory.
War’s hammer smashing hand-to-hand
Brought from that sweet-and-sour land
Wreaks today a wretched isolation
Giving veterans no protection
Forevermore hearing cruel war on senses pounding
Thumping crescendos in ears mournfully sounding
Load and lock
Shell shock
Creating violent depression
Thrumming strings of hyper-vigilant obsession.
A soldier’s heart
By what he's seen and done torn apart
Wears a badge of 'forevermore' to impart
Forgetting not
Frustrating memories bricky hot
Won with egregious trauma’s death bought
Combatant nerves to hell shot
Always feeling dirty with an ageless dirt
Beaten unmercifully with Satan’s wicked quirt
To the pits of the soul painfully hurt.
Deep in a soldier’s heart
Hide deep dark secrets behind a fortified rampart
Where from time to time
Veterans take out memories sublime
When they're all alone
To remind them of war grown weary to the bone
Recalling lost humanity
The boy lost along with their sanity
Tied with self-loathing devoid of acceptance
Grown tired beyond physical endurance.
A soldier’s heart
Beats in old warrior's skeptical of authority
Who answer "freedom's call" with nobility
By empyrean angels sent
To save a world by oppressor's rent
Enticed by the political mob's lie
Sounded by those caring not for boys who die
Bringing to veterans a painful sigh
Who well up in the dead of night to cry.
Will in vain be my warrior legacy?
Will we not learn lessons from history?
Taught in this most foul debacle called war
By political fatcats keeping score
Ever skewering those who’ve seen more
Than they can bear to see
Who’ve done much more
Than they can in good conscience do
Who’ve lost much more
Than they can afford to lose…
A soldier’s heart lost in war's spin-the-bottle
Still hides much deep pain in a bottle
Fighting anew anxieties darkning thought
Eschewing cruel scars cruel battle wrought
Lost the tender touch
Riding steel horses into battle’s grinding crunch
Relishing lives of anguished sorrow
Needing balm of Gilead to borrow
Seeking understanding healing
Love’s reconnecting.
A soldier’s heart makes frail life insane
Dredging up old memories profane
Inhaled through clenched teeth
Hearing bullets final crack bequeath.
The Master of Hell must pay the cost
For fresh innocence lost
For the foul carnage of the brotherhood
For boys-next-door lost in rotting mud and blood
For war veterans nightly playing hosts
To brother combatant ghosts.
My memorial wreath comes wrapped in a flag
Zipped in a bag…
Sent home
Wretched tokens forever to atone
Wearing the fragrance of death like cologne
Hearing a battalion of warriors beleaguered cry
Wondering still why they had to die...
Yet not I … not I
Yet still though I know not why
I too, rivers of tears cry...
http://namtour. com/soldiershear t.html
Music on site: "Johnny Gone For A Soldier"
Hope's Loving Kindness
~~Dedicated to Doug Yelmen~~
"Hope’s Loving Kindness"
He served in ‘
Experienced many a heartache, grief ‘n death
Once was full of hope, faith, and life’s glee
Destroyed quickly from war’s ugly breath
Young soldier, he was, grew older faster
Served with the Navy’s River Rats there
In a short time, life as he knew wasn’t fair
Returned from duties, peace was no where
This soldier warrior who fought ‘n ‘
Lost faith after that ugly place he had been
Hungering for some peace and freedom
In a world full of hate towards him then
PTSD stayed the battle he is fighting still
Seeking comfort in warm embracement
Of hope’s loving kindness in Pleasantville
Satisfying his heart for his own betterment
Copyright © 12/14/2007 MahTame
*Author's Note: Doug Yelmen, a Vietnam Veteran, was on the LCM-8 (Landing Craft, Mechanized 8) boats. He was in the I Corps from danang up to dong ha for 3 months in 1968.
A Soldier's Tear
A soldier’s tear
Fallen comrades
Bonded brothers
Notifying family
Sending home
Memorials occur
Silent mourning
Lonely soldier
Buried memories
Seasons changing
Rememberances
Frozen forever
A battle cry no more
© 12/04/2007
MahTame
my brothers, do not weep
my brothers, do not weep
along the path of silence deep
lay many fallen warriors in death
killed in senseless acts of war
remembering their final breath
fading heart beats in the drum
leaving thy soul upon the ground
those warriors are my brothers
yearning for comfort all around
fighting for country, for home
pained heart mourning in action
as the enemy is being attacked
keep free from tears’ distraction
warriors, my brothers do not weep
for death was neither in vain nor lost
dignity continues to rule within
no matter what of the war’s cost
©Copyright 11/17/2007 MahTame
Gone, but never forgotten
Gone, but never forgotten
You’ve gone, all of you warriors
To fight in battles in lands afar
Not knowing if the killing scores
Will leave few or many a scar
You’ve gone, ‘n marched into battle
Followed all orders and obeyed
Duties called, you left to settle
The enemies’ lies portrayed
You’ve gone, ‘n returned with sighs
Medals of honor given to decorate
Memories of horrors deeply apprise
PTSD hidden behind the mind’s gate
You’ve gone; but you’ve come back
Your body is here, your mind there
Can’t shake the nightmare’s pack
Sobs hidden beneath all despair
You are gone, but never forgotten
Even if it wasn’t your desire to war
Mighty Warriors you have become
The we, the us, love you evermore
Copyright © 11/03/2007
MahTame
Do Not Forget Me, Brother
Do Not Forget Me, Brother
Mvskoke and Kiowa
Two young soldiers met
On a mission during a
War tour one will never forget
Mvskoke spoke with high
Honor of Kiowa’s tribe
Talking of the Ton-Kon-Gaht
Warriors he would describe
Kiowa did not know this
For he was adopted out
At an early age, not knowing
What this was all about
They spoke into late
Hours before they were
Sent on this mission
Minutes became a blur
Mvskoke told Kiowa
Before jumping from the
Their chopper into enemy
He said, “don’t forget me”
Parachuting out into the
Angry fire of bullets flying
Mvskoke left before Kiowa
Never knowing he was dying
“I will never forget you brother”
As Kiowa held his dear friend
Forever grieving this great death
As he will honor him to the end
Copyright © 10/08/2007
MahTame
http://iwvpa.net/awards/index_dta.php
(Dedicated to one of our Kiowa BlackLegging's Warriors)
Quieting the Silence
Quieting the Silence
If I could quiet the silence
And rid the mind of memories
From deafening sounds of
Horrors, screams, and cries
If I could quiet the silence
And free the mind of grieving
All sources of memento mori
Terrors and trepidations leaving
If I could quiet the silence
And ease the thoughts of war
Consolations given freely
Weapons and arms no more
If I could quiet the silence
And bring back stillness of heart
Ceasing the long, blank stare
No more sanities breaking apart
If I could quiet the silence
And bring comfort to the weary
I’d play Creator’s melodious tunes
That helps cleanse away the teary
Copyright © 10/03/2007
MahTame
received 10/04/2007
Freedom Can Be Forever
Freedom Can Be Forever
Freedom is not forever now
The killing, dying, injured
This is what man will allow
Till all wars will be dissolved
Seeking liberty under God
Many have denied that truth
Turning to the false façade
Inadvertent leaders lacking couth
Soldiers and Warriors fight
For territory and homeland
Fight to the end with all might
No matter the cost or stand
Freedom won’t happen till peace
Cleanses the earth of all war
And weapons and fighting cease
When God’s promises last forever
Copyright © 09/28/2007
MahTame
Fifty Thousand Plus
Fifty Thousand Plus
JH Smith©2007
Fifty thousand plus shed their life and blood into the jungle ground
Their voices float forever upon the wind, but most hear not a sound
Only their bothers, veterans of the jungle all
In the dark of the night, wake to a lost brothers call
Then there were those who came home, holding their head up proud
Spit upon, called names, many lost their spirits, they in pathos drown
I did my part, I went when called, now so many friends live upon a wall
They gave their life, many a families end, why for what did they give their all
Those returned crippled and lame in both body and soul
Asking for understanding, a little hope wanting only to be whole
But so many times their thoughts, their voices screamed out in vain
Killed in Viet Nam but to damn dumb to lay down, so I suffer the pain
We honor in memory and pray for those who are lost
As a nation we shall never know wars true cost
Lost families and men, children never born
And those of use who are left who felt a nations scorn
We travel many a mile to stand on hallowed ground
Once there humbled remembrance, silence or sob our only sound
We’ve come to a place honoring not the war, nor a nation, only those who gave their all
A monolith of black rock where spirits touch across the divide, we call it The Wall
The quintessence of deceit
The quintessence of deceit
I once envisioned in the naiveness of youth,
A dream, where I in the world would thrive.
But transformed was I, by the conduct of war,
To the reality that I might just survive.
In the war I was threatened, not secure as before,
Compromising my values along the bloody way,
Convictions and beliefs were destroyed by my will,
I was a traitor to myself every day.
Being taught and believing that killing is wrong,
when offended you should turn the other cheek,
I abandoned these values and fell prey to false power,
I relinquished my aptitude to be meek.
The real me as I knew, went off to a war,
From the actions that ensued I was killed.
A living body came home, but the real me was dead,
I died without my blood being spilled.
Now my family often wonders as well as myself,
Why emotions are not a part of my life.
I buried the pain, which now live as nightmares,
I refused to succumb to emotional strife.
There wasn't time for compassion or regrets,
There were people who needed my care,
My wounded, my dead, were frequent and many,
Emotions had no place in my fare.
So the turmoil of past override to the present,
Contradictions of self still war in the now.
I yearn to be true, to self, as once was, the old me want to live,
But doesn't know how.
Thus the conflicts of war, of values, of emotions,
Continue to rage in this person of me,
I know not my feelings from moment to next,
O God, from this deceit I seek to be free.
Richard Goodwin
Richard served at Khe Sahn during the siege as a hospital corpsman,
HM-2 assigned to Charlie company, first battalion, ninth marines,
third marine division
Flower Child
Victory Rose
Victory Rose
Going down the hill from battle
Heading home to where I have come
Never wanting to hear any more prattle
Nor keep the dying image of my chum
Can’t seem to push them far away
I close my eyes to shut their faces out
They forever haunt me even today
Guess it’s continual in this life; no doubt
I saw a lot there at that foreign land
Some things will be forgotten; most won’t
But we all followed the big command
It’s something all of us just do; not don’t
Well, they say there is a reward for us
When we return from this horrible war
They say we earned a lot of these medals
I’d rather have the Victory Rose of yore
And put it down where my comrades lay
In the depths of this weary, war-torn land
I shed many a tear for them and pray
That soon these wars will forever disband
Copyright © 08/18/2007
MahTame
A Sadness
A Sadness
They walk in, men old, middle age, men no longer young
Why have they come alone, is there not a wife or child to hold their hand, to share their life?
Is there no acceptance, is there no caring within their home?
Or is it their own fear, is it they, who push away acceptance and love?
For if I! love someone
I do not want them to see, or to feel the pain, we hold inside
Inward looking, I do not except what I have done, nor what I once became
So how can I open myself to anyone, but those not born, but who have been made as I
Eyes that speak, too much, too young, have we seen
We were old much before our time, while our bodies stayed young
Death? O yes, we have seen death
All we wanted was to look while this face was young, we wanted to see life, bright and shining life
Most sit alone, feeling afraid for who I became? I am? I was? All perhaps?
No, it’s for what I once became, what I once was or am?
So we remain, afraid, to feel? to love? to touch, or be touched by another
Viet Nam Veterans of war, they have come this day to honor their own, their brothers, their sisters
Those that are with us and those that have now walked beyond
Veterans Day, remembrance for country for freedom
Remembrance for what we have seen and what we have done
Remembrance in each, in war there is only the tired, the dirt, the blood, the death
Each holds their sadness inside and passes to the young a prayer, NO WAR! NO WAR! NO WAR!
Oh! By the way God, I know we’ve talked many times in a fox hole, so hear me once more if you will
Please, let there be no young Veteran of war, to fill my shoes, after I’m gone.
JH Smith
Copyright 2007, All Rights Reserved
Photo donated from JH Smith
Courage
Courage
Finding the right amount of courage
In this rat race of life’s unending trouble
To assist us in this bleak day and age
Such a challenging task amidst all rubble
Frightened souls for one reason or other
Seldom find courage to sustain their fears
Being swallowed up from depressed bother
‘N constantly fighting away pent-up tears
Uncontrolled feelings of self pity and self hate
Seemingly loving to wallow in this plight
Reaching out for the drink or drug we relate
Only never really knowing it is not a delight
It is not courage to be addicted to these things
Nor is it useful to find other harmful ways
Neither is it useful for our healthy well beings
War’s ugly course haunts many, in these days
Finding courage to live again amidst these
Is a battle of wills and might that is fought
To keep oneself free from nightmare’s beast
‘N seek peace for hearts that are distraught
Wishing wholeheartedly to soothe the warrior
And rid their sorrows and pain held in deep
Wish to dissipate all sad memories ‘n horror
And bring back courage for them to forever keep
Copyright © 08/05/2007
MahTame
The Unseen Warrior & Never Fought in 'Nam & "Eggshell Shuffle" (for the Vet Wives}
No, you need not have fought in
Vietnam, or any of the other wars,
To suffer from the enduring pain
They’ve inflicted upon the poor
Unseen victims of their horror.
How many nights have you spent,
Filled with real, aching sorrow
As your veteran wept and moaned -
With pain that stole tomorrow?
You both relived those battles again;
You’ve both felt the fear and pain
As comrades fell and bullets flew…
Red blood flowed, fresh and new…
You might as well have been there, too.
Although you never in person saw
The awful scenes from that war,
It’s held you, wounded, in its claw,
Tried to gulp you down its maw.
There are no combat medals for you,
But, oh, My Love, you’re a veteran, too.
© Aug. 2007 Thurman P. Woodfork
Inspired by Melanie C. Campos’
“Never Fought in 'Nam”
***********
Never Fought in ‘
No, no I have never been to fight in ‘
Nor even fought in a war with arms and ‘munition
Only wars I fight all the time is PTSD’s bomb
Of constant brow beating of self with no caution
I have seen what war has done to many a warrior
Killing, maiming, dying, recovering and the like
In political and religious wars of greed and horror
Returning home and hoping to find a good Psych
Yes, yes many go fight for their country and duty
For this was their calling to help all with freedom
They join the air force, army, marines, and navy
Never thinking the source behind all war is dumb
No, no I have never been in ‘
Just fight with myself in daily and nightly battles
Of constant shame, guilt, and victimized bother
And not sure of the end result that always rattles
Copyright © 07/31/2007
MahTame/Melanie C. Campos
***********
EGGSHELL SHUFFLE
(For the VetWives)
tiptoeing - hoping what they do or say
won't upset their vets today..
Where is the medal for the Vetwives,
the ex wives, and the ones who stay?
They fight a battle every day - trying
to take care of him;
sometimes losing themselves along the way -
praying, ever-loving, always trying.
Who hears the cries they try to muffle?
Where is the medal for all the wives
who do the "Eggshell Shuffle"?
©Copyright March 25, 1999 by Christina
For our Warriors Who can not return from War
For our Warriors Who can not return from War
Some of our warriors that went to war
Knew it was imminent they would not return
Death songs cried out in honor of you
Grandfathers, grandmothers, brothers, sisters
Families, ‘n friends sang with boldness
Some with tears streaming down their faces
Grieving greatly and mourning for these
Brave warriors who could not return from
War’s journey from far off lands and seas
Such a strong sacrifice and dedication
The fighting warrior gave for their people
Pride of each nation, of each tribal home
Sustained the weary, dying soul from fear
How is it these know they would not return?
Was it an inbred calling from their fighting?
You, the great warrior, have made a name
An honored name for you, for your people
Honor songs will be sung for you forever
Copyright © 07/27/2007
MahTame
The Gravest Extreme
FAREWELL MY BROTHERS ALL
And touch their names in silence
Etched upon a granite wall.
I see the face of those I knew
And hear their voices still
And know that only I have aged.
The land had slain my brothers
But could not slay their will.
So all my brothers live today
Unchanged eternally
And with every name I touch I pray
And wish their spirits free.
So farewell to brothers, comrades, friends
Whose spirits speak through granite walls.
All of them gave some for us
And some of them gave all.
19 Jul 07
My Heart Sank When I Heard the News
My Heart Sank When I Heard the News
I can't envision those crewmen's bones
at rest on the bed of that sea,
after their battleship was sunk
by some Japanese submarine.
I'm locked on their handsome faces
as the camera captured their grins,
before they spied those hungry sharks
and their slowly-circling fins.
I can see their oil-slicked bodies
as they struggled to stay afloat
atop an ocean of burning eyes
and those hundreds losing hope.
I watched the famished fall asleep,
too exhausted from holding on;
then I whispered a prayer for them
as the ocean sang its song.
I saw the remnant who were saved,
as they mourned their brothers dead,
the image of those shark attacks
still dancing in their heads.
I still can't see their bones, however,
at peace beneath the ocean's glare,
but cast to the sea by life's fragility
circling. . .circling, like sharks in the air.
Nancy L. Meek ~ August 20, 2006
The Bounds of Sanity
Just Another Day
Just Another Day
responsibilities learned rapidly
young men, aged seventeen 'n plus
sent on a mission, a duties of war
platoons, regiments, divisions
orders given, taken and followed
heat, humidity, constant rainfall
mosquito infestation, many bites
always on guard, always ready
constant rumbles of mortar fire
and big guns shooting off somewhere
rockets, both sides, hitting targets
ambushing villages, foxholes, enemies
screams, hollering, shushed silence
wounded, mutilated, maimed, death
rescuing fallen soldiers, friends, brothers
aging beyond youthhood to old men
just another day in the war of Nam
rarely time for food, sleep, bathing
some on leave to nearest village
others writing home or reading mail
living a life of hell, all for their country
burying sights, smells, and emotions
wishing and hoping for a safe return
to live just another day at their home
Copyright 07/16/2007
MahTame
When war is no more...
When war is no more...
take my hand
and walk with me
through golden lands
with clear waters
bloodstained fields are no more
friends and foe have come and gone
wars of yesteryear are nevermore
let me comfort you
I shall wipe away your tears
give me your nightmares
let me dissipate them to nothingness
memories of war are now history
the future shall hold strength and might
no more fighting, no more warfare
put down your weapons and machinery
the battle is over
release the inner struggles
let go of images of death and dying
let light and love shine bright
come follow me
into paradise and freedom
Copyright 07/12/2007
MahTame
***
Sigh
Sacrificial servants slain
Monuments to mans disdain
By our silence we sustain
All this sorrow, all this pain
In a world we should deplore
So much need we still ignore
What generation will explore
The road that leads, to no more war
*Delta Blue—The Silence
Copyright July 2007
*Russell G. Robison was born in Duncan, Oklahoma, in 1946, and moved to Dallas, Texas, in 1958. After graduating from Richardson High School in 1964, he attended East Texas State University until joining the U.S. Navy in 1967. He served aboard the U.S.S. Lexington (CVS-16) where he volunteered for service in Vietnam, arriving “in country” during the Tet offensive in 1968. He was assigned for duty at NSA Dong Tam, and served three tours of duty until discharged in 1970. He currently lives in Red Oak, Texas.
"I was stationed at a naval support base in the Mekong Delta that worked with the Mobile Riverine Force(USN), and the 9th. Infantry(US.Army). Much like a mechanic working at a gas station near an expressway, we fixed the ships and watched the traffic go by. We saw the price the MRF paid in its battles with the enemy. The battle scarred ships bore silent testimony to the fierceness of their struggles. They were our heroes, we watched them take the fight to the enemy at a heavy price. These poems are about real people I met, each with their own story. From the cobra pilots who intervened one night in our defense( BIG MAN ), to the nurse who couldn't take any more (REGRETTABLE FLAW), to the loss of too many friends (IN MEMORIAM... VETERANS DAY), the Seal team member (MADDOG). My words can never express our awe of them, they were my hero's and always will be." ~~Delta Blue
~~Delta Blue's writings may be viewed at the Tranquility Base and the IWVPA poetry sites~~
Old Man and a Tree
Old Man and a Tree
JH Smith © 2007
The day was cold as an old man sits at rest under a large tree
when he was born his Father planted it here, a forever friend
Now grown older, the tree in it’s prime the man past, the tree always strong and tall in any storm
the man a simple man, a man of war, a man of peace, just a man remembering a life, now most past
The tree stands silently by and remembers when the old man, then a boy
would climb and sit in it’s branches, dreaming out loud of all the things life and the world would bring
Not a breeze blows still the leaves on the tree tremble as it remembers
a young man coming home from a war, no longer able to climb it’s limbs
Returning not with smiles nor laughter, but with eyes old much beyond their years
so the tree lowers a limb to brush the old man’s cheek
The old man smiles, but a sad tear falls as he remembers, again speaking out loud
returning, returning from war to what, what was lost, what was found
What was to be found, Innocents?
that, if only I could then have remembered the meaning of the word
Remembered a time to laugh, smile without purpose or gain
as a child free, to be as an old one with only beautiful memories for company
I remembered the feeling to except, to care, to love without reason
to hold out a hand, offer a smile or a kind word
Asking no gain, doing simply because someone there was of need
that was before, I learned to walk with death, laugh in joy at another’s defeat
To lay death at another’s door, stealing with death their love by, and for family
living only to survive, not with love, but with a hundred ghosts as my companions
Mocking me each night as I try in vain to sleep
a heart dark, a soul weary of my load, looking only to survive
Hiding within my own fear, writing my words of darkness
afraid to show feeling, afraid to care, finding nowhere to give
So I looked around, all I could find were others like I had become
I was my own creation, an empty shell, an empty ghost of my own making
Wait! I had only become what others asked of me
I had gone and done as they asked, spoke as they, thought and acted as they
So why was I not happy, Are They, These people who only ask
empty friends, Empty people wanting only to receive never to give, to take, never to love
So I found myself filled with the bitter cold steel of regret for what is lost,
for the darkness I had become
Hard cold steel of reality lay heavy, cold against my soul, and darkness surrounds
then a light, a light so precious, holding out a hand with innocents and a smile
Offering nothing, but giving everything, permission for me to be me
permission to speak my words, permission to care, permission simply to be me
Best of all permission to love, to care, to do, not expecting, not wanting gain
now! I may find my heart, I may talk with my soul, I may speak my own words
With the speaking may they help, make happy or fill a heart with love
though I know not who shell hear my words
May my words bring them closer to those to whom they belong and care
should my words bring a tear, may they be of happiness or loving remembrance
My responsibility is great, for once spoken, words float, drifting forever upon the winds
coming back to you time and again in whatever from they may take, my prayer they be of love
If someone should offer you the chance to be you, to again find innocents
take it, you could not ask for, nor receive more, how could you, they have given you everything
The tree listens as the old man remembers and spreads it’s branches before the sun
now a single ray of sunlight reaches down and warms the old man
The tree thinks to itself, I was wrong, I thought an old man had returned to sit on my roots
but I see within the old body before me, a boy has at last found his way home this day
Miss You Dad
Miss You Dad
I didnt see the stone,
we searched many rows.
I called out 'Hey Pappy"
no answer from below.
The tears started,
when I called out to him.
My heart was saddened,
Daddy, where you been.
My wife called out,
"I have found the stone".
I hurried to her side,
then she left me alone.
Just me and Daddy,
in that great big field.
Just me and daddy,
God, I wish you had lived.
Flooding memories,
as well as tears.
My first return visit,
after 31 years.
Empty flower vase,
no one seem to care.
I wasn't the best of sons,
the burdens you had to bare.
More memories of your smile,
the good times we had.
You deserved better,
than the life you had.
A grizzled war veteran,
tough as nails.
You never spoke,
of all your hells.
You shook my hand,
with tears in your eyes.
When I left for NAM,
I remember that good bye.
You never told me you loved me,
nor held me close.
It wasn't your way,
but of me, you did boast.
I never told you I loved you,
till after it was to late.
I never held you,
I never gave you a break.
We two, were in that field,
alone in that field of stone.
Sargents and Majors quietly listened,
As I told you of home.
I told you of my life,
I cried like a babe.
I cry now,
as I type this about your grave.
Lonely you were,
as many vets are.
When I stood in your shoes,
it was to late by far.
I looked up from the stone,
so many other stones.
all war veterans,
I know you belong.
I miss you dad.
Copyright 07/03/2007 Fred Alvis
.
Two men amongest the stone
One kneeling..visible and sad
but not alone
Unseen.. an older man
stood by the tear stained one
.. his hand unfelt
upon on the younger s` shoulder
held there ..in tenderness and love..
©Faye
For Fred
God bless you..
When Freedom Rings
When Freedom Rings
When Freedom rings its sounding bells
And all of mankind quit fighting in war
I shall walk this weary earth that was
Ravaged apart by these greedy people
Who chose to kill, maim, ‘n tear up lives
When Freedom rises and shines brightly
And all colors and nationalities in unity
I shall walk among all, greeting them
Wholeheartedly with no barriers or arms
To be peaceable to all men, women, ‘n kids
When Freedom accomplishes its final goal
And no more hatred, cruel, ‘n evil fighting
I shall joyously cry aloud to the whole world
Living in harmony of what was purposed
No more sickness, death, nor pain anymore
When Freedom comes to you and to me
And all cruel warfare becomes nonexistent
I shall truly live in peace, love and harmony
Among the millions and millions of humans
That deserves to be forever safe and truly free
Copyright © 07/01/2007
MahTame
The Nation's Hoop
The Nation's Hoop
There is no hope on the earth;
Bury my heart at
and the Chief known as Red Cloud
thought: Can there be peace between you and me?
We will wear our ghost shirts
and dance the Ghost Dance
Wovoka will protect us
He will give us a chance.
Big Foot and his people
surrounded by soldier chiefs;
a tired, sick leader, placed in a tent
by those uncaring of his beliefs ~
the soldiers took away their weapons
each and every knife and gun.
But when Black Coyote,
the young deaf one,
raised his rifle above his head
to signal it had cost him much,
they misunderstood, shots were fired
and like a flame-to-dry- grass touch
the panic began
as the children ran
shot in the back
in a brutal attack
grandmothers, grandfathers
women, children, warriors brave
without their weapons
there was no one to save ~
there was no fighting back
they had to run.........
run away
When the wagons
of wounded
finally reached Pine Ridge,
they were left overnight
in the snow and the cold
the warrior
the child
the woman
the old
tumbling into the snow
finally, taken into a church,
to see a banner proclaiming:
Peace on Earth
Good Will to Men.
There's no end to the blaming.
"The Nations' hoop is broken
and scattered.
There is no center any longer,
and the sacred tree is dead." **
Remember the ones who mattered
Remember the wounded,
Now let us forever chant
from the Now to the Then:
Never again
Never again
Never again
Christina 6-22-07
All rights reserved
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
http://www.woundedk neemuseum. org/main_ menu.html
*Bury my heart at
Remember
FRAGILE LOVE
No Room At The Inn & Wandering Souls
No Room At The
Thousands fought for you
..your freedom to keep
Tonight two hundred thousand
sleep upon the street
They are the very same ones
who came back home lost
after their jobs were done
Allowed by a system that lacks
the power to prevent its veterans
from falling through the cracks
These are the same ones
who fought to keep us free
Can we not make a place for them
somewhere `twixt you and me..
©November 8,2007
Faye Sizemore
***
Wandering Souls
Many a lonely veteran live in the streets
Not knowing what destination to go to
Some sleep in rescue missions, others
Sleep under some bush or a tree
So many are like lost, wandering souls
With no direction to steer them to live
They are vagrant, homeless people
Been to war and back with demons
Too great to fend off and face life as it is
The bottle of liquor never quenches thirst
Many a habit formed, dependent on drugs
Horrendous nightmares to win and conquer
Untreated mental illnesses is their life
At one time, many were highly respectable
Working at well paid jobs with families
What misfortunate lives have been dealt?
Living in the streets is the choice many want
No sense of anymore responsibility or care
Living from day to day as wandering souls
Copyright © 06/15/2007 MahTame
(I wish there was a way to reach these veterans, for they deserve
the respect as well as all the others that have gone to war and back.
It is sad, all veterans have their demons, memories, shell-shock from their experiences in war. Some never really recover and live either in a home, the streets, or in our hospitals and institutions with great pain
and mental distress.)
Two-Arrows
Two-Arrows
I have a friend
A poet and a veteran
Suffered from inflictions
Of war, the thing of PTSD
Living through nightmares
And traumatic memories
Feelings of suicide
From his constant hell
Believed in a government
Served for his country
Only to be whipped and beaten
By these political creatures
Was it for patriotic gain?
Did he do the killing thing?
For our freedom and life?
Or did he become a traitor?
He is an American brother
A mighty and strong warrior
Only wanted assistance
From his afflicted soul
Please give him peace
Please give him honor
He deserves it like all others
My friend, Two-Arrows
© 05/30/2007 MahTame
~~Dedicated to Two-Arrows, a Veteran who has been greatly mistreated in seeking treatment for medical needs by the VA.
"Doc, Hold My Hand"
“Doc, Hold My Hand”
Twenty- five years spent bandaging wounds,
The life-blood of mere babies that ended too soon.
Long are the memories, every name is ingrained,
Each death has its story and no two are the same.
Graduating college with sights on a career,
Four years of med school brought job offers near.
I gave it all up when Uncle Sam called,
Enlisting in the Army for freedoms great cause.
The jungles of ‘
No sterile white robes for the jobs that we did.
Supplies often nominal, medicines ran low,
We gave it our all for the Brothers we know.
Some stayed with us longer, others went back,
To fight other battles and stave off attacks.
The heroes I dream of are those we couldn’t save,
Most were near death with wounds oh, so grave.
They told us to patch ‘em, shoot ‘em with meds,
Fear knows no limits when a body’s ½ dead.
Many a man passed through those doors,
Many a time I wished ‘not one more’.
One memory haunts me more than the others,
For one moment in time, I stared at my brother.
Mortally wounded from a sniper’s dead aim,
My brother didn’t know me, didn’t recognize my name.
I did what I could to buy him some time,
‘God, just this once, save this brother of mine.’
He looked in my eyes and I swear I could see,
A flash of remembrance staring at me.
“I know it’s not good, Doc, how are my men?
Twenty went with me, how many came in?
There’s a letter in my pocket I’ll ask you to post,
It’s for my dear brother, he’ll need it the most.”
With one final breath, he faded away,
If only I’d told him how we used to play,
Would he try to hang on so I might understand?
Or just another Hero, ‘Doc, hold my hand’?
Lynn Price © May 25, 2007
Dedicated to all Combat Medics
Lynn Price is a proud Military/Veteran supporter, Blue Star Mom, Gold Star Sibling, Wife of an Army Veteran, Receipient of (deceased) brother's 'Order of the Silver Rose' medal and certificate, Proud daughter of WW II Navy Veteran (deceased). Born and raised in North Carolina, 4 sons (1 deceased) and 1 daughter, 3 grandaughters and 1 grandson, (early) retired law enforcement officer, love photography and writing poems, loves to solicit donations for our deployed. Much of her writings have been posted in the IWVPA site.She is also a dear person whose friendship I cherish. ~~mahtame
Dustoff
Dustoff
In the early morning hours on the jungles steaming floor
A shot rings out in anger into a helicopter door
Return fire is rapid and the noise is a roar
The chopper blades are biting; the bird is off the floor
The dustoff is climbing, leaving blood and gore
Carrying its wounded soldiers to safety on the shore
The firefight continues many kills have been scored
Dustoff returns in minutes; five more wounded board
The platoon’s numbers dwindle; those falling by the sword
Dustoff’s saga continues as five more dismount and another five will board
©6/14/07Terry Sutherland
(a VietNam Vet)
War
War
If man didn’t have to go to war
What would life be like?
If man could accept all people
And have equal policies and rules
You think there would be happiness?
What if war is personal of self?
What weapons will you use, guns?
Will you blow yourself up and
Watch yourself be torn to pieces?
Will you maim your very soul?
If all men could live in harmony
In true peace and security and free,
Would war cease to exist forever?
Will all prejudices, criticism, ‘n
Cruelties be erased and gone for good?
What if you find the ones you fought
Are as you, believing in same morals
But only to know they live in a land
Where disharmonies, cruelties, strict rules
And terrorists who live for evil and war?
Copyright © 06/05/2007 Melanie C. Campos
A Warrior Soul
The following is a poem written by a VietNam Veteran. Many of our vets have overcome many horrors and nightmares, some continue to have them. I am not a fan of war, nor of our men going to war. Unfortunately, many do go for whatever reason they choose. But, I have great respect and honor to these men and women who are Veterans and Warriors.~~mahtame
A Warrior Soul
JH Smith
©2007
She steps out of a dream, stands dark blue cloak, beside my bed
calls me by a name I do not know
Who are you I ask
This lady with hair of flaming red
A smile but answer not
She holds her hand out instead
It seems we must go, but why I ask
A question you asked, she said, so now I show
The fields of battle, You have often walked
and seen and felt the fear of man
Cursed with a warrior soul you are
curse or perhaps for you a blessing it may be
She took me to see the dead on the fields of Gall
picked clean by the women, battle followers there
Baskets full with treasures these men left behind
treasures mean nothing now, the warrior soul has gone away
She said you have walked though many times
returning each time to learn your way
At the hand of battle many a death I have died
still the battle lust runs deep and clear
Memories of blood, the sword as it rings metal to metal
the Gatling as the chopper comes in low
With the hunters moon, memories of the soul cry out
within shadows we can hide
Forever lonesome is the warrior soul
Then a lesson I did learn
It is I the warrior soul that must reach out
to touch those who care
My own feelings my thoughts my lonesomeness
is a making of but my own
For if I wait for others
I will but find the darkness of my own pity and despair
I have seen death of battle from Gall to
I have listened to men cry out as they died
I have seen bodies ripped by sword and gun
And held a friend as his blood bled to the ground
On every field of battle there is beauty
If one but opens their eye’s to see
At Gall the wild yellow rose
a promise of life continuing and love and hope
I am lucky many will never come this way again
beauty is found in the warriors heart and the smile of the child
This life I think has passed the warrior stage
but was I not meant to die along the way
Some lessons I must have learned
to find gray hair now upon my head
Look at your body, the cloaked lady said
see the marks of battle long past
The place the skin is white and the hair won't grow
It's just a reminder of the African desert campaign
The red mole shaped like a saber wound
just something that came from
You are learning to be humble (not the warrior's lot)
So now remember
An officer, blue and red uniform all pressed and proper
To a Lady I did brag, I would kill then all
And in short order be home to her before next years fall
A brag, then a bullet in my knee I did receive
I lay there in the Russian winter and froze to death
I hope the Lady shed a tear