A body lies broken
On the freeway ramp curb.
A man once stood there
Asking for help
With his cardboard cutout
Plea for societal mercy.
Then a car sped too fast,  
Swerving to make the green light
It was never going to catch
In this dimension or any other.

Just a moment was all it took.

Did you know he was a soldier
Who was haunted at night
By the enclosed confines of his house
Because it too closely resembled
The urban landscape he fought in,
Faced death in, lost friends in,
Got caught in until the web of his mind
Couldn't ever forget it
Especially when he tried to sleep at night?

Did you know he came back
And tried to fit in to the community
He had been born and raised in
But found that the stares and glances
Of wonder and horror laced
With misunderstanding and pity
He didn't need but couldn't escape
Were too much for him to bear
Because though he could
Look the enemy in the eye
It hurt too much to see
His own father couldn't meet his,
And a community takes its cues
On how to treat its people
From those closest to them,
So, soon no one would look him in the eye?

Did you know all that when you passed
Where he stood every day on the curb
Asking for your pity and spare change,
Having become the uttermost disgrace
In his own eyes,
Because don't you know
He used to be somebody?

Did you know that today,
When you made a split second
Choice to speed up the turn,
He'll be buried in the National Cemetery
With an honor guard
And a three rifle volley salute,
But the chairs will be empty
And no one will speak kind words for him,
Because he's already been forgotten?

How else could you run over him,
And drive off with not a glance back??

My conclusion: you're a ******!

A forgotten shoe
lies abandoned on the floor,
your cracking heart too painful
to lean down and pick it up.
Her abandoned toys are just memories now,
trinkets,
lost to time;
the whispers of the little one-
once here,
now gone-
haunt,
and echo strangely-
mingling with the broken spirits
of the loved ones she left behind.
What hope there was
now takes a different form-
sadnesss turns to grief,
and grief to helpless anger.
Hands shake
with guilt and rage,
locked together in the fingers of other sufferers,
hearts swelling in solitary pain,
yet shared by all.
What is lost now
is still just around the corner,
though far from reach-
little footsteps still ring in the hallways,
peals of laughter bouncing off the now bleak walls,
where peeling paint remembers crayon scribbles
and unicorn doodles.
Wild manes still flash in the summer sun,
rippling like a mirage just out of sight,
but the windows reflect only cold light inside these empty rooms.
You've tried appealing to your silver lining attitude,
the one you wished you had,
attempting to comfrt yourself,
even when a smile is impossible.
Breath, steady;
your mantra continues in a voiceless chant,
hoping you don't forget to pull it together,
or else the heartache may riddle holes through your mask,
baring for all the world to see
how broken
and crumpled you are on the inside.
Smile-
she wouldn't approve of stern faces,
or somber stares at the floor;
Laugh-
she wouldn't want to see you cry,
those 'funny little dew-drops' won't bring her back.
Be strong,
as she was in her final days-
stronger than you ever thought a child of six could be.
Believe in life,
for her sake,
for Rebecca.

Its not the grand gestures
the media storms
the heroic deeds
that define a life

It's the everyday
the unnoticed
the ordinary commonplace
that play the part

Your stubborn temper
your quick laugh
your love of family
and how much you enjoyed shopping in discount stores

All the things that drove us crazy when you were here
We smile about
and miss now you are gone

Copyright Sandra Hughes 2014 All Rights Reserved

Went to the grave
this past Memorial Day
and saw it was covered
with mud.

With but a dish rag,
maintenance
didn't exactly leave a shine
behind them, walking
away as they massaged
their own aching backs.
Otherwise they could,
I don't know,
massage the backs that
are already broken.

"Don't graveyards have
maintenance-people for that?"

They are humble.
They like not to be known.

He was alone
Far from home
Isolated by bullets
As he bled on sand and stone

The explosion triggering the attack
Crushed the vertebrae in a brother's back
A bullet tore through another's arm
The wound left a prominent scar

Through the radio chatter the lone voice of the isolated soldier:
"I've been shot...and it's bad."

Upon reaching the fallen, the medic knew from ****** experience
That his friend was a living corpse, dying is a process
And though the medic prayed he was wrong
He wasn't

Next week, next firefight
Their blood paid for our blood
Pray it meant something in the end

PLEASE READ THIS!!!! This poem has triggers mainly of bullying and suicide. If you are triggered by either of these things, please don't read! I don't want anyone to hurt themselves!! :)**



My reflection
Staring back at this corpse
Nothing left but an empty soul
Picked at by vultures
Preyed upon
Until nothing was left but skin and bones

Why am I your target?
What have I done?

You have no answer
Yet you laugh in my face with your friends
Degrading me to nothing but dust
Suicidal thoughts enter and exit the empty space my brain used to occupy

But I don’t think anymore
I don’t speak anymore
I don’t care anymore

I walk and walk saying nothing
My mouth sewn shut with invisible string
Like a puppet
I act out my everyday life for you
Pretending everything’s okay
With an inviting smile and eyes filled with some kind of hope
Yet when I go home
I sit and stare at my options

Rope
Blades
Meds
Guns

All in my possession
Wishing I had the power in myself to end it

But there is a voice
Soft but clear
That strays me away
Tells me everything will be fine.

But I never listen to the soothing sound
All I hear is static; the static of all my bullies telling me

You’re ugly
You’re fat
You’re useless
You smell
Too nerdy
Too tall
You’ll never make it
You’re nothing
Why don’t you just **** yourself so we don’t have to see your ugly face around here again?

I’m alone in my house
Find the gun
Sit in my room; the only place where I’ve ever expressed myself
Put the barrel to my head; look around for the last time at memories that will never be finished
Pull the trigger

MEMORIAL DAY May 26th, 2014

****************

To all of you that have ever worn "The Uniform",

the uniform of safety and security, the uniform of pride

the uniform of freedom, the uniform of liberty

THE UNIFORM OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

**

THANK YOU

Thank you to all, in every branch, in every time From:

The American Revolution (most of us have roots to our founders)

The Civil War (North or South)

World War I

World War II

Korea

Vietnam

Cambodia

Laos

Panama

Nicaragua

The Falkland Islands

Somalia

Yugoslavia

Bosnia

Kuwait

Iraq

Afghanistan

­Pakistan

The Persian Gulf



areas and battlefields such as

(not all locations are listed with no dis-respect)



Lexington/Concord, Gettysburg, Pearl Harbor, Midway Island, Normandy, D-Day, Berlin, Tripoli, Iwo Jima, Okinawa, The 38th Parallel, The Bay of Tonkin, Me Lei, Hanoi, The Hanoi Hilton, Saigon, The ** Chi Minh Trail, Baghdad, Kabul, Ground Zero Manhattan, Pentagon 9/11, a field near Shanksville PA.

and many many more,



you are all heroes and role models, not for a nation, for the world, not for American Patriots, for all humanity, not only on this Memorial Day, for all days and all days to come.



You are appreciated! because freedom has high costs and you pay the price for all of us.

**********

Godspeed, safety and peace where ever you are.



Sincerely,

Warner C. Baxter Jr.

American Patriot

Scottsdale, AZ. U.S.A.



God bless America