Google+ Followers

Friday, December 16, 2011

The Quiet of Life

Sometimes I take your heart to task
your souls aghast
your mind to the undesirable past

Life is not, all
chocolate filled cherries
some will have their pits

We all want that golden sun
to awaken our morning eyes
with the sound of an aviary
when we rise

But once we open our eyes
we must face the storms
that sometimes fill the Sky’s

We choose to read
the sweet poetic words
and listen only to music’s
mellifluous sounds

when words read not to our choosing
and a note is dissonant or flat
we close our eyes
cover our ears

John Lennon’s ‘…Imagine, there’s no Heaven,
there’s no Hell…’, then;
roaring ocean waves would not be feared
but be viewed like the harrowing of soil
needed for new growth in Spring

We should embrace the storm
for then will come the calm,
when there's pain and angst
then comes appreciation of
it's cessation, then,
quiet and health

Do not shush me,
turn your eyes
or cover your ears,
share me with others,
I am Life

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Welcome Home

If I say to you, 'thank you'
do you hear me through your pain
your flashbacks still haunt you
beyond the patriotic refrain

My return back in the seventies
not a voice or hand extended
lungs still filled with agent orange
and the napalm smell offended

inculcated surreptitious motivations
of sacrifices upholding liberties
Communism, arms of mass destruction
fear replaces truth's entreaties

trust is garnered by a leader
from sons, daughters, husbands, wives
to dispense an ideology of democracy
interfering in a nation's sovereignty,
asking for the sacrifice of lives

we bring them home from hell
a feigned handshake and nod
give them alcohol and a pain pill
without insurance or a job

we bring them back to families
whose children now have grown
sitting at their dining table
surrounded by little faces now unknown

we've now brought them back
another war wrapped in a lie
how many more Vietnams and Iraqs
so much more 'life' must die

the world view of America
is hypocracy of Christianity
conjuring reasons for making war
and our politicians saying to our soldiers,
an unrepentant, 'Welcome Home'

Monday, December 12, 2011


Even though my ears are being warmed
by my folded arms up covering them
the edges and the lobes are bitter numb,
forearms have forgotten feeling,
fingers immobile frozen stiff,
underneath me pebbles and stones
feel like jagged boulders
pressed against my side and back
From below, my belt loops feel
like fence links with my
pants stiff of piss and shit
like medieval jousting wear
warmed only when relieving myself
down to my socks rolled over
the tops of my shoes frozen
by sweat and yesterday's relief
over the laces crusting them
permanently tied till Spring
I reminisce of the secure warmth
as my buddy and I waded in the Mekong 'bush'
before the ugly 'swish and plup' sound
from a AK-47 found him, not me
These days are freezing cold even as
shards of warm sun pierce down
giving an occasional ray of hope
The black of night comes colder still
with that insidious veil of fear
of not seeing another sunrise
not seeing my buddy or those
who once shared my love
Will they know how cold
my last minutes were,
when my last breath hovers
as frosted vapors carrying my soul,
rising from this 'cold' Earth?