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Stephen E Yocum Jun 2014
You know if I am all wrong and there is
a heaven and some how I end up there,
I'm sure there will be three dogs waiting
right there for me.

Rommel my Rottweiler, ******* and tan face
and head, a body like a Bradley Tank, always
watching, always loyal. Liked to stick his big
wet nose up ladies skirts and sniff what they
were hiding there. And like his master, he never
met one he did not like. Self appointed Body
Guard to my little boy and me. Would run
through smoke and flames to protect our little
family of just three, Ian, Rommel and me.

Then there is Rocky, a Boxer breed,  the best
of the best. He never made a misstep, always
knew the way. Calm and intuitive in an almost
spooky way. Could read my mind, anticipate
my moods and moves. A tower of canine power,
gentle and loving companion and friend.
I could wade a stream, casting a fly, go for
miles and never wonder where he was, turn
my head and there he stood, on a boulder,
or up on a cliff. He would follow me anywhere
and never ever stray. He was a ROCK and
thus earned his name.

Then there would be Max. Steady as a summer
rain, gentle as a baby lamb. He displayed a
kind of affability seldom seen in man, or dare
I say, even beast. Soft eyes filled with love,
you always knew where you stood. He lived
only to be near to me and what ever I would do.
I dared not speak too harshly to him, as if my
words alone could actually crush his bones.
Far too sensitive for any dog or man. Gentle
and kind as a baby lamb. Open a door and
there he'd be, always waiting just for me.

And if I deserve another chance to join
their most exceptionally congenial company,
a very lucky man I would truly be.

And how could that place be anywhere but
"HEAVEN" ?
Yesterday my 9 year old Boxer Max died.
He was not sick, their were no outward signs
or warnings. He had eaten well and played
hard in the yard with another dog.
Came in and took a nap on his bed and in
his sleep he peacefully died.
(When it comes my time, I can only wish
for such an uncluttered ending.)

He is and will be missed for I loved him so.
I buried him here on my farm so he will never
be far away. If you ever had a dog you loved,
you will know what I mean. If you have not,
maybe you should. They can teach you so very
much about yourself and what love is.
Stephen E Yocum Jun 2014
Oh look, look again on what we see,
Another war on ABC and CNBC TV.
Black hooded thugs waving AK-47’s
Jam Packed into little Pickup Trucks,
Moving in, onto Bagdad street,
It all looks so very familiar.

What is it with we Human Beings?
Why do we continue to do such things?
Back in my day it was Viet Nam,
The suits made a case for war,
And we young answered the call.
3 million Vietnamese and over 58,000
Of us died in that mess,
All for what,
A Civil War?
Not our business.
Profits for Corporations,
Big and small?

Who are we to Police the World?
Who appointed us to that dire role?

Then it was “Desert Storm”
And we mobilized all over again.
Rolled over the sands and those
Third World people,
As if they were not even there.
It’s said 100,000 of them died.
But the guy that pulled their Strings,
That **** fool survived,
To play again yet another day.

The peoples in the Middle East
Hated us for our intervention,
And began to sing songs of revenge.

Fast forward 10 years of hate and
Resentment and some of them
Flew our own planes into our cities,
Killed our non combatant people
Without so much as a warning,
And absolutely no remorse.
Stealing our national innocents.

Excuses and lies were made,
Fingers pointed in the wrong direction,
Now it was us plotting revenge.
WMD’s in the hands of a Mad Man
We were told,
“Get him before he can use his missiles.
Him and them,
That attacked our Cities,
Killed our people.
How dare they do such a thing?"

Once again our young men and women
Answered the call.
And once again over a 100,000 of that
Dictator’s people died, along with
Far too many of our own children.
But the “Lie” made some big American
Corporations rich beyond belief.
And gasoline went to over
$4.00 a gallon and is still ascending.

Oh look, on further study and investigation,
That guy and his country had no WMD’s
And indeed may not have actually been,
Behind The Twin Towers tragic end.
Afganstan “They” now too pointed,
That’s the backward 3ed world place,
Harboring a rich Saudi guy named Bin.
He and his gang, they are the ones,
Run ‘em to ground and break their bones.
Suspend our laws and stretch the truth,
Get it done, forget the price,
Break some rules and ignore,
Our Constitution and even our laws.
Behind closed doors, they whisper,
“Need more men, mobilize the Reserves.”
“The little people will never tolerate a Draft”.

How many people die this time?
We don’t even know the price.
It’s not yet done over there.
Money spent over 3 Trillion,
More than spent to fight
The entire Second World War.
Yes I said “Trillion”
Now how many new schools,
Roads and bridges here,
At home would that buy I wonder?

We left Bagdad declaring things “done”.
Installed yet another Corrupt,
Puppet Army and Government.
Like Viet Nam,
Our Generals all said we’d won.

Be it an Iraq or Afghanistan,
Who can possibly rule a nation of Tribes.
Of people that can’t even agree on the
Same shared religion belief.
People that hate each other more,
Then they even hate us.

No one but an iron ****** ****** Dictator,
A Tribal Chief who enforces his rule with
Corruption, Brutality and Death
Can rule such people.
Too long ingrained is their
Mode of hating and living.
Too clouded and old
Their desire for revenge
And corruption.

So add it all up, too many deaths,
Trillions of dollars spent.
And in the end, has returned to
Where it all started again.

Political deceit,
Poor judgment,
Or Personal greed?
Why do our leaders
Keep making the same mistakes?
I don’t have the answer.

If I don’t end up in Gitmo,
Boarded, with water in my mouth,
Or locked up in the Pen,
For expressing my own opinion,
Perhaps things aren’t yet as bad
As things could possibly get.

I do however regret that all these years
With we little people answering the call,
With all the fighting, waste,
Needless ****** death and all,
It seems to have been for nothing more,
Than the egos and stupidly,
Of a few rich and high born men,
Big Corporation profits,
And lustful greed for the all mighty dollar.
Stephen E Yocum Jun 2014
Weak from Love’s embrace,
We whisper in the shadows,
Words of breathy adoration,
Laying  skin to skin,
Arms and legs entwined,
Our bodies dripping wet.
Cool night breezes
from the window,
Contentment blowing in.

If only I could
capture this feeling,
Duplicate its magic,
Bottle it perhaps.
Deliver it on tiny parachutes,
This heart busting happiness.
To all my brothers and sisters,
The people of the world.
Gone would be the burden
of hate and disrespect.

If they got to feeling mean,
Pull the stopper and take a sip.
'Cause who can think of doing harm
When we can all feel as loved as this.
Rose colored glasses, I guess.
One can always hope.
Just a little Love Potion #9
Inspired by my Muse,
She knows who she is.
Stephen E Yocum Jun 2014
So simple life would be,
To walk the chosen path
Of such as him or she.
No regard for things of value,
Civility, Traditions or sin
And most importantly,
Caring not a **** for
The mortal encumbrances
In the forced companionship,
Of their Human Fellows.

No strife in seeking redemption,
No apologies offered or received.
Having not one speck of regret,
For their own moral misdeeds,
Living as they do with absolutely
No expectations of friendship or Love,
Or an ounce of human acceptance,
Given, shared or received.

Living a life time of this
Empty lonely existence,
Until the very end.

The lasting price for which,
Is the very path they picked.
Misanthrope: "a person who hates or
distrusts humankind"

We have all met one at some point in
our lives.  As they circled the drain of
hate and despair. The sad, negative lost
soul, malcontent that has given up on,
or indeed never had normal feelings
towards his or her fellow humans.
To them Life is just too hard, unfair,
evil is everywhere.

Some hide away in cabins in the
woods, making letter bombs to send.
Others fly planes into high rise buildings,
killing themselves to prove their sad and
selfish point.  Perhaps they just hold up
within their dark lonely apartment
watching way too much Reality TV.

In the end they all had a choice.
I bumped up against one of these "in the
making fools" the other day. I wish it was
not yet too late for him. Thus this poem of hope.
Stephen E Yocum May 2014
She was fetching at Nineteen,
with her dark eyes of mystery.
Her composed, secretive demeanor.
She exuded the promise of exotic sexuality,
all without much real experience.

I was Twenty Two, older in
many ways than she.
I took her to her first Night Club,
Deep into those Disco Days.
No one carded anyone back then.

She was like a Deer on a road,
caught in the Headlamps of
a oncoming car.
Dazzled in a world she did not know.
A player on a artificial stage.
Several times that night
I saw it happen.
Her eyes meeting and locking on
to some cheesy Saturday Night
Fever Guy clad in garish Polyester,
Soaked in dance sweat,
a club Dennison of no real merit.
Her eyes said it all in a lingering glance.
It told her story and set the tone for the
rest of her life and a list of failed couplings.  

It took ten long years and a child born
for me to fully comprehend what those
looks that night really meant.
To then finely extricate my son and I from her.
And sadly too I learned, that some people
will never know or understand what Love means.
Or perhaps deserve it in return.
This is for my son, none of our mistakes or human
failings as parents were ever your fault.

It is 36 years since our final parting. She remains
bitter to this day. I hold no malice towards her.
I have only empathy for her loss and failures.
Her empty self imposed aloneness and being
no more than a stranger to our son. And our
Grandchildren of whom she knows nothing.
Stephen E Yocum May 2014
We fumbled some,
We Technology fools.
One more new thing
to sort out, and learn.
Then there you were
looking back at me
in real time,
Your face devoid
of makeup, hair a muss,
Still Beautiful as always.

My face top right,
smaller then yours, smiling.
Looking slightly embarrassed.
Hand holding the devices,
made it feel we were at sea.

How very strange and yet
wonderful it all seemed.
Some real 21st Century ****.
Star Trekking it, as it were.
Two old "Face Time" virgins.
Laughing and flirting,
like teen age kids.
From Old Dial Phones to Smart Phones
What a world this is.
Stephen E Yocum May 2014
She
She sits or naps there almost every day.
She has other choices she could make.
Ten acres to roam,
Under the cover of large spreading trees.
Maybe the woodshed,
Or the old house near by,
Empty now and full of nice.
The Barn, filled with solitary places
in which to slumber or hide.
The Garages, an open boat, trucks,
several beds there for her use.
But she picks the convertible
roof on my diminutive Red Car,
Like the Little Girl in the "Three
Bears Story", it would seem that,
that canvas roof is, "Just Right".

Or could it be that my sweet
little cat Charlotte, loves that roof
because it's mine?
For Charlotte Grey Eyes
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