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 Mar 2015 girl
Jon G M
The kisses from your lips
For they are the wine
That have left me intoxicated
 Mar 2015 girl
SE Reimer
~

fallen…
heroes all,
saviors-in-training,
on mission repeat;
the service-giving,
life-giving,
members of
a fighting team.
existing solely that
you and i
can spend our time
consumed
with the art
of loving well;
their actions
no less impassioned
than our own,
no less worthy,
no less loving and
no less selfless.  

whatever we think
of war,
we must think
of the individuals
who move toward the fray
rather than away;
those to whom
we owe our very
everyday existence
be it extraordinary
or mundane;
to their daily efforts.,
to their repeated training,
to their daily sacrifice,
we offer
a prayer-filled salute!

and to these
who paid dearly,
to wives,
sons & daughters,
mothers and fathers,
nation with a
grateful heart,
a debt we cannot repay,
we humbly offer
our heart-filled
and loving tribute.
may you ever
rest in peace.

~

*post script.


serving you and me from Camp Lejeune, North Carolina,
these fallen Marine heroes are:
Capt. Stanford Henry Shaw III of Basking Ridge, New Jersey;
Master Sgt. Thomas Saunders of Camp Lejeune;
Staff Sgt. Liam Flynn of Queens, New York;
Staff Sgt. Trevor P. Blaylock of Lake Orion, Michigan;
Staff Sgt. Kerry Michael Kemp of Port Washington, Wisconsin;
Staff Sgt. Andrew Seif of Holland, Michigan; and
Staff Sgt. Marcus Bawol from Warren, Michigan

http://www.marinecorpstimes.com/story/military/2015/03/13/names-of-7-marines-killed-in-helicopter-crash-released/70277156/

(the four fallen Guard members remain unnamed at this time)

next month my son is deployed
to points classified to us his parents.
i can only think about his sacrifice
in terms of time, money, exposure to danger …  
and his safe return!
 Mar 2015 girl
Joe Satkowski
bound to incorrect gods
another unimpressive but expected sunrise
another waltz around the room

the urn was broken and the ashes of every dream I've ever had were broken with it
 Mar 2015 girl
Carl Sandburg
I SAW Man, the man-hunter,
Hunting with a torch in one hand
And a kerosene can in the other,
Hunting with guns, ropes, shackles.
  
  I listened
  And the high cry rang,
The high cry of Man, the man-hunter:
We'll get you yet, you sbxyzch!
  
  I listened later.
  The high cry rang:
**** him! **** him! the sbxyzch!
  
In the morning the sun saw
Two butts of something, a smoking ****,
And a warning in charred wood:
  
        Well, we got him,
        the sbxyzch.
 Mar 2015 girl
Ofelia Rose
The End.
 Mar 2015 girl
Ofelia Rose
I hear words, but they're silent
Like the dead of the night
Do I make a noise?
As a falling tree
That no one can see?
I have no eyes to perceive
So I'm blind with no dog
But I am a dog
That goes back to his *****
I am the acid of a stomach
The putrid ferment
Of rotted nutrients
I'm the belly of the dead
A corpse is my being
So I am the one in a casket
Death is where I stand
Here I am Hear me now
Or don't, I don't.
Like a deaf bird with no ears
I fly without guidance
I'm hunted by the beast
Bang. Bang.
I was shot. I'm dropping
I hit the ground
Eaten.
By the savage devil
Satan is my name
I am the hell you see
Or possibly the heaven
I've fed your empty self
I'm vacuous though
Your filled with air now
But I won't have you breathe
Because your deceased now
Just like me
We're friends now right?
Ashes of the flaming leaves
We reek of decayed winter
There is no spring
So rest away my darling
Love is not here
We are not alive
Not real.
The end.
 Mar 2015 girl
Lydia YQ
28.09.14
 Mar 2015 girl
Lydia YQ
It has been quite a while,
since I saw you this up close.

We were seated across each other at the rounded table,
having home-cooked dinner, the way we used to with your family.

We had the usual dishes, served with light hearted banter
and bits of chatter about every day’s trivia.
Big brother was humming a song,
and there was a chime of little sister’s laughter
because Dad told another joke while recounting his days.

You were pretty much the same.
Hair neatly waxed, the way it is after work.
Combed up. To the right.

I recall wondering how distance and familiarity
can co-exist in such harmony.
Quite a cinematic setting, is this scripted?
I must be acting, or dreaming.

You wolfed down every mouthful,
as your jaw clenched and relaxed
and your chopsticks scraped the bottom of the ceramic bowl.

“Eat more! Eat it all!”, Mother teasingly chide

And your eyes darted across the room,
crinkle into a smile, before it hit me –bullseye

as I glanced away,

I caught a glimpse of that silhouette,
that girl by your bed idling and
swinging her legs.

I knew better: we were each other.
Possibly going by another name,
a different face,
just that I was ahead.

She leaned forward.
Our eyes met.

And in that split second
of silent confrontation, I was reminded
that it was my duty,
to be happy for you in this realm –your reality.
An excerpt from a dream, Sunday morning.
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