Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Bad Morning, Viet-Nam No music calls a teenager to war; There is no American Bandstand of death, No bugles sound a glorious John Wayne charge For corpses floating down the Vam Co Tay No rockin’ sounds for all the bodies bagged No “Gerry Owen” to accompany Obscene screams in the hot, rain-rotting night. Bullets do not whiz. Mortars do not crump. There is no thin rattle of musketry. The racket and the horror are concussive. Men – boys, really – do not choose to die, “Willingly sacrifice their lives,” that lie; They just writhe in blood, on a gunboat deck Painted to Navy specifications.
0
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 2:30 PM UTC
Memorial Day II: Bad Morning, Viet-Nam
Bad Morning, Viet-Nam No music calls a teenager to war; There is no American Bandstand of death, No bugles sound a glorious John Wayne charge For corpses floating down the Vam Co Tay No rockin’ sounds for all the bodies bagged No “Gerry Owen” to accompany Obscene screams in the hot, rain-rotting night. Bullets do not whiz. Mortars do not crump. There is no thin rattle of musketry. The racket and the horror are concussive. Men – boys, really – do not choose to die, “Willingly sacrifice their lives,” that lie; They just writhe in blood, on a gunboat deck Painted to Navy specifications.
Written by
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 2:30 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem