There are few moments when I believe in god. Not necessarily because of moments of piety. But right when I hear a remote jet sound of those Big Ugly Fat *******, eight engines a piece I realize god’s fury becomes a reality.
The BUFFs finally reach their prey And I hear someone yell “Boy today sure is the day!” As we hide our heads in the bunkers The ****** ground quivers and shivers
If I had looked up into the mighty blast I would have seen the scorched red earth Scarred deeply with the big ***** of fire But the sounds and trembles are enough for me Because what needed to be scarred was the ground, not me
The blasting jet thunder and the deadly steel rain Should be enough to blow away Charlie The concussions alone would waste them So we’ve all thought Only to be proven wrong the next day by the NVA
I sometimes dream of driving my Camaro back home Because it reminds me of what’s left in my soul So I tried to talk with my best buddy Jim McCole But as I glance into his head with a ******* hole I realize once again this is hell with no parole
This poem is about Operation Arc Light of the Vietnam War.