He goes in to battle an innocent boy
but
returns a battle hardened soldier
Nothing will ever be the same for him
- Explosions paint his eyelids
- His ears still ring from bombs
- He wakes up pulling a non-existent trigger
- He's seen the deepest parts of hell
- He's watched men die at his feet, pleading for mercy
and people still wonder 'what ever happened to that little boy?'
That little boy...
He stared death in the face and lived to tell the tale.
He fought for a country that could care less.
He watched his men die at the hands of the enemy.
He left himself over there in the dirt with the men that died.
He faced people who hated everything he stood for.

But he fought for you.

Never ask what happened to that little boy.
You wont like the answer.

She received a letter
Dreaded in these modern times
What belonged in her arms
Was armed on the front lines
Thoughts buried softly in shells of gunfire
Paper clenched in her hand, barely left there
Breathing

She stands in her dismay
“He will return to me someday.”
Her mind pacing through her memories
As her days aged longer still
She clings to reasons no one will
Until he set foot back in his home
She would rest here alone.

She received a phone call
Picked up with a hopeless taste
Hospital front desk states
Her lover won’t be home today.
Forever waiting by dimming porch light
She stares awake in her chair, left alone there
Breathing

And the years fade on
“He just can’t be gone.”
Pictures fading with all her memories
As the door creeps open slow
The only footsteps she could know
Return safely home to her arms
No longer could she be alone.

© 2008

Dedicated to combat veterans and PTSD sufferers, wherever they may be...thank you for your service...*

An Enemy That Haunts My Mind...

In the middle of the night I lie in bed,
Fighting an enemy that’s in my head.
An enemy that’s always there,
An enemy that won’t play fair.
An enemy that haunts my mind,
An enemy that is not kind.
The price paid for doing good,
Of doing like I’m told I should.
Serving my country in time of war,
Who could ever ask for more?
And now even in my deepest dreams,
All I hear is the sound of screams.
Why was I the one to survive?
Why was I the one left alive?
I ask myself every night,
As I relive every fight.
God, please call me home,
Don’t leave me here all alone.
For when I thought the fight was won,
I’m finding the battle’s just begun.
A soldier who was trained to ****,
Finds a battle that’s harder still.
Fighting an enemy I cannot see,
And finding out the enemy is me.
An enemy that haunts my mind,
An enemy that is not kind.

07-11-11.

The rich get richer
And the poor get *******.
That’s my definition
Of the common word: ‘lewd’.
The richest country
In the whole world today
And we can’t make crooks
In politics go away.

We could feed everyone
And give them a home free
With what the military
Pays in armorer’s fees.
We could use the cash
We waste to wage the wars
To rebuild our highways
And our bridges once more.

We could fix the laws
So politicians don’t get rich
And make it legal
To fire a crooked sunsabitch.
We change thing easily
So one issue got one bill
And declare this horse trading
As antique and over the hill.

Then make sure everyone
Was covered for insurance
And give our veterans
Comfortable benefit assurance.
We’d have enough money
To do some helpful research
To knock crooked companies
Off their comfortable evil perch.

We could stop sending cash
To countries that are bad guys
Then stop using rhetoric
That is a xenophobic disguise.
We could do all this stuff
In a matter of a few short years
And make sure our children
No longer have to live in fear.

Bang, fizz

My mind goes back to years past
When bullets rang past my ears
And I couldn't stop the tears
As I held my dead brothers and sisters in my arms

But it's not without its charms
Because everyone is free
Everyone. But. Me.

There he is
the loudest guy in the bar
Boasting about clandestine OPS
and battles he’d ‘prefer not to remember’,
But he does,
because he has an audience

There he was in Ramadi, Korengal,
Tikrit, Kandahar, pinned down by dozens,
no hundreds, of enemy fighters.
His best mate, was hit by shrapnel or an enemy round.
He screams for Doc
But no help comes
The barroom hero
applies a compression bandage,
but the blood continues to flow through his fingers
Minutes pass, his buddy worsens.
Doc arrives, finally.
The buddy is stabilized and loaded onto a stretcher
He’ll be on the first bird out

The battle hardened warrior continues his tale,
regaling his table with airstrikes, CQB, and
taking the battle to the enemy.

Someone asks, “What unit were you in?”
He replies proudly, “The Second Ranger Battalion.”

You set your own beer down and spin from your chair.
You make your way from your table to his.
You place a silver coin upon it,
“Second Ranger Battalion,” you say,
“Coin Check.”

The color drains from his face
Fear in his eyes and an ‘Oh ****’ expression on his face,
He stammers something about being ‘attached’
and having orders for Ranger School once.

Your icy glare tells him that he’d better
**** and **** before he is no longer able to do either.

He throws a $20 onto the table and finds his way to the door.

******* ****.

I was down at the  legion
Knocking back one or two
When in walked an old member
Who fought in World War Two

I got in line behind him
And when he ordered  his brew
I made a signal to the barkeep
I paid for his  too

He turned and said  thank you
I'm on a pension as a vet
1100 dollars monthly
Is all the cash I get

I said to him "no, thank you"
I'm happy to buy your beer
I owe a lot to you
I owe you all that I hold dear

He said to me "t'was nothing"
"you would do the same"
"And I'd do it again"
"If the call ever came"

He looked round the room
And he sipped at his beer
Then he leaned in real close
So just I could hear

"Son, I'll be honest"
"And I don't make no bones'
"The kids of today"
"They just ain't got the stones"

"The stones to step forward"
"To get up and fight"
"To defend flag and country"
"To do what is right"

I said, in most cases
He'd hit the nail on the head
It's a battle at worst
To get a kid out of bed

The times are a'changing
It was different back then
It took a lot less
To turn boys into men

"A soldier's a cowboy
He's one for the books
There's not many in here
I can tell with one look"

"I just did my duty
No less and no more
War isn't a game
Where someone keeps score"

He sat back and his eyes closed
Said "the next one's on me"
"I don't drink that  much
But, at most I have three"

I accepted his offer
And we talked a bit more
We talked baseball, and race cars
But not of the war

That was the past
And the past is long dead
Except for the pictures
He has in his head

I went up to the bar
And I set up an account
I would cover his tab
To a certain amount

What he did for our country
And what he did for me
Is worth a couple of beer
Or at least, each day....three

Hello?
Who am I?
Guess again.
Don't you recognise my voice?
No?
Why?
Well, you can hang up,
It's your choice.
But I just wanted to call
for old times sake.
You know:
Those times where we'd talk
at times we shouldn't have been awake.

Are you still there?
Can you hear me?
Oh, right.
You don't remember me.
Maybe I have the wrong number.
Well, I guess I'm sorry.

But before you let me go,
There's just one thing
I want you to know.
At the end of December,
when the mountains meet the snow.
I'll think of you, as always,
and I'll remember.
How it was me,
who once heard
your hellos.