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Gary L Misch Dec 2011
In memory of the seven men killed in the after fire room explosion in USS Basilone (DD-824) on 5 February 1973

We live in holes,
Each one named,
Bravo One,
Bravo Two,
Bravo Three,
Bravo Four.
There are others,
But none are MAIN,
The rest are AUX.

We work at pressure,
Six hundred pounds,
Eight hundred plus
Degrees,
That's Fahrenheit,
Folks.
People like
To visit
Our world.
Makes them,
Feel special,
They see a world,
They don't dare
Live in,
And they leave,
Before they
Sweat too much.
Come again,
But not too often,
Have a salt tablet.

We're the only sailors,
Who must
Use our gear,
Twenty-four hours
A day.
Try letting the fires
Go out
In the
Boiler.
See what
Happens.
The girls,
Topside,
Would miss their
Movie.
They'd,
Be agitated.
Did we use that
Word?
Well,
Have a salt tablet.

We say that
Down here is where
The real men live,
That all the rest,
Are *******.
It's a lie,
But,
It hides how hard
Life is,
In the
Steam world.

It's six hours
Of watch,
Six hours
Of sleep,
Six hours
Of watch,
Six hours
Of sleep,

Unless,
Something
Needs fixing,
Or
We're refueling,
Or,
We're getting ready,
To enter port,
Or,
Something else
Is happening,
Then there's -
No sleep.
There's no sun
Anyway.
You wanna see
Sun?
Look through
The scope,
At the
Stack gas.

It's a world of
Valves
And,
Burners,
And,
Sight glasses and,
Pumps and,
Pipes and,
Gauges everywhere.
A new guy,
Wonders,
How to learn
Them all.
It's an,
Incomprehensible
Forest.
And then,
You get to
Know it.
Now some other guy,
Is the,
New guy.

It's often a
Rain forest,
120 degrees,
That's Fahrenheit,
Folks.
95 per cent
Humid,
Since you're visiting,
Come help us,
Find
Steam leaks.
But,
Keep your head
Down.
Steam is clear,
You won't
See it,
Before it
Cuts you,
In half.
We'll use brooms,
Instead.
Just wave them overhead,
Along the pipes.
Have a salt tablet.

The steam
Snakes all about
The ship.
They need it
To live.
Not just the
Wake,
But,
Heat,
Light,
Water.
All life,
Comes from
The boiler.
You'd think they'd
Appreciate
Us.

The Navy says,
It's worried about,
Our heat stress,
(It's only 120)
And our hearing,
They want us,
Out of
The heat,
More often,
Nice.
Who will keep
The lights on?
Maybe they'll
Start a new,
“Program.”
Do the paperwork,
And just
Keep us in
The hole.
We've been down here,
So long,
We can't
Hear 'em,
Anyway.
Have another salt tablet,
And go back,
To your regular job,
Topside.
Gary L Misch Dec 2011
Follow me,
Down a path,
But do not follow
Me too close,
The path grows
Narrow,
Dark,
And rugged,
Soon the width,
Is just for one,
The trees envelop
Overhead,
Though bare
Of leaves,
They crowd out
All the light,
'Til any sense of
Up or down,
Begins to vanish
From our sight,
Then
From our minds
It’s gone as well.

The gravel under foot
Grows large,
Our footing
Less than sure,
The ground is new,
The atmosphere
Undone,
Then you must go,
Return,
Back to your world,
I shall go to mine,
My new world,
It's a place where I
Will have no need,
No need of hope
No need of love,
Where I may finally
Rest.
Not the rest
Of the just,
But just the rest
Of those most tired.
Most tired of all
That weighs us down,
That pins us to
The desperation
Of life.
Gary L Misch Dec 2011
We occupied The Willard,
Yes we did,
So over the top,
We might have fed Djibouti
For a week.
The guest of honor
Deserved it,
But,
We might have fed
Somalia
For a month,
Don't get me wrong,
If you've got it,
You deserve it,
But,
Give it away,
And it becomes
More valuable,
Try it,
It tastes better.
Gary L Misch Dec 2011
the earth makes us free
we respond by wanting stuff
which holds us in chains

copyright 2011 by gary l. misch
Gary L Misch Dec 2011
(No, I'm not apologizing to Thomas Hardy)

The more he thought of it
The more it seemed,
He shouldn't even be here,
Sitting in a chair,
Beside a lamp,
Enjoying food
That tasted
Nearly home cooked,
Well,
Eating it,
If not enjoying it,
Musing on his last encounter
Ever
With fear.
Why am I  here?
Why is he not?
He wasn't old enough
To shave,
Was he?
Had time and opportunity
Been different by a bit,
It might be me,
Cold and forgotten
In a pool of blood,
Never hearing that
My son had walked,
And he'd have been back home
With his Mom,
Safe and snug,
All ready to **** again.
Perhaps that boy
Was old enough to shave,
After all.
Gary L Misch Dec 2011
My soul bursts with love
I will love you for all days
I will wax joyous
Gary L Misch Dec 2011
Where did myself go?
Have I only the past left?
My youth beckons me.
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