PTSD 22

Piercing through that troubled gaze
The fields of war fill the vacant stare
Search for peace through the combat haze
Desperate for darkness back “over there”

Pondering fear of a lifetime ago
The desert’s pain fills the empty boots
Still at war, for peace they go
Down in hallowed ground, 21 gun salutes

Pour one more strong for the 22 a day
The men of war can take some more
Saint Peter’s gates open to light the way
Defenders of peace only brave this door

Place your battle outside on the floor
To the warriors’ home in vallhalla’s hall
Soldiers only, long after their war
Day after day, salute 22 More

Chester Michaels

His legs are hairless.
He's the strongest man I know.
Inside his mind he's 18 again, trapped in a constant battle against a now aged enemy.
He's a father, grandfather even.
He sits with his back to the exit, making sure he can protect us.
He is haunted but proud.
He came home on ships full of broken toy soldiers, wound tight and released into an unknown land.
They returned him in less than pristine conditions, cracked and frayed from a war they did not ask for.
His fears and dark thoughts settle in the lines in his face and on the thick skin on his fingertips.
Pill after pill, meeting after meeting, he is tired.
He wants to wash away the things he's seen that he cannot repeat out loud to us.
"He stirs in his sleep." She says.
Trouble and reoccurring demons fighting battles behind his restless eyelids.
He fought for my future.
He fought for my freedoms.
He is my troubled soldier.

We went we saw.
We fought we died.
Some came home.
But changed for life.
From beating hearts within our chest.
And terrors that haunt us to our death.
Were broke were beaten.
Bullied and scared.
We stand together.
From lands afar.
My cover hits the ground my boots in the sand.
A brand new day in a brand new land.

stunning coral reefs
beneath the tidal oceans
a paradise place
colors blending beautifully
the world of marine finery

At dawn on my twenty fifth birthday
416 pilot whales beached themselves,
in the shallow tides at Farewell Spit.

I woke to rain on the wooden roof
of my new flat
and confused myself in unfamiliar blankets and
the words of your message,
written heartfelt and wobbly
in the early hours before morning,

caught in the marine ebb and flow,  
that stranded us too.

Pull me under
with you into the sea
hold me close as we sink,
and don't let go of me.
You're still my octopus.

the air was thick and heavy
the sun was heating up the sky
And somewhere in the jungle
more men were gonna die

The streets were full of people
Feral dogs were running free
The haze was thick and murky
The sun you couldn't see

It's a Saigon Sunday Morning
Ten more men were going home
To  a flag tri-corner folded
And a marker of white stone

The men were all assembled
To load them up with care
It was a Saigon Sunday Morning
with ten men no longer there

The jungle was a minefield
The trees were blocking out the light
It was ***** trapped like crazy
And it seemed like it was night

A patrol went hunting "Charlie"
But, they were found out first
It only took twelve seconds
And it turned out for the worst

The city never noticed
The 'copters flying overhead
Whether bringing in supplies
Or taking out the dead

It was a Saigon Sunday Morning
It never changed one little bit
The air was always heavy
And the alleys smelled like ****

Back home the news delivered
The families destroyed
They were waiting for their loved ones
A short time were deployed

Ribbons tied around the Oak Tree
to support those coming back
On a Saigon Sunday Morning
With twenty bullets in their back

A transport with the bodies
Drops fifty more to play the game
It's a vicious, endless, circle
The procedure's all the same

It's a Saigon Sunday Morning
Ten more men were going home
To a flag tri-corner folded
And a marker of white stone

My feet are flat, my eyes are bad

It hurts for me to run

"you've checked out fine" the doctor said

"You're in the Army, son!"

It makes no sense

They can't be right

I've even brought a note

"Stop staring son, and shut your mouth"

"'before I cut your throat"!

"But, Captain....sir"

"I'm all 4F"

"There's no way you'll want me"

"Put your arm down, boy, stop salutin'"

"I'm a Sargeant, don't you see?"

"I'm an NCO, a working man"

"Not a pencil pushing geek"

"I own your life, you're mine now boy"

"You long haired, hippy freak"

"I've got ten weeks, to shape you up"

"I'll teach you how to fight"

"Now grab your gear and follow close"

"And don't lose my tail lights"

"Welcome to the forces folks,"

"Now repeat after me"

"I joined up of my own free will"

"I'm here voluntarily"

"Select your bunk and grab some sleep"

"Your new life starts at dawn

"Forget about the world you know"

"Now, all of that is gone."

I hit the bunk and closed my eyes

And was just falling asleep

When in the room I heard a noise

"Wake up, you  long haired creeps!"

I jumped on up, as did we all

Saluting was our mission

"Drop your arms you maggots..now"

and assume the position"

"Push-ups lads, that's how you'll grow

"to respect just why you're here"

"Right now, though I don't smell courage boys"

"Right now, I just smell fear"

It took us almost half the day

To do ten that were right

If this alone would do me in

I'd be dead before tonight.