I was in 4th grade
when I met A.J.
he had chestnut hair like his father
that swept down to his chin.

He was a golden gloves boxer
with lightning fast fists.

We played tackle football and shot  pool together.

At night we dressed like infantry men
and dashed out there
in the bushes and trees
mixed up in serious battle.

A.J. would borrow his dad's combat gear,
flashlights , blankets, etc...

His father was a short, skinny guy
who served in Vietnam

a constant, intense blaze seemed to burrow way down deep to his core.

I knew he had been through something Ginormous over there.

He killed a lot of people that much I knew, but he had also witness friends die and after seeing that
something inside him must have snapped,

a rainbow bridge falling forever into a cataclysmic darkness.

I never got too close to him
a clear intuition always warned me
to keep my distance.

There was a rumbling warning in his volcanic eyes that told me
He never really left the jungle.
Some vital part of himself was still over there.

His screams slashing through his dreams
still riveting his head into the swollen firefights that made demons
crawl inside his lonely foxhole.

I always had great respect and admiration for A.J.'s Father.
I used to hear those bloodcurdling screams at night when I slept over.
I have never heard screams like that since.

My heart would pour out to him in those long washing mind wanders
you get when you're cocooned in ripe silences
and
the heavy texture of the world seems to vanish
and all you have is the lonely ripples of quiet, secret love
washing to your shore banks.

I loved the man you see.
Even when he lost it.
Even when he beat A.J. to a pulp once.
His foxhole eyes intoxicated with whiskey & war & loss.

It was then and there in that horrible moment that I seemed to really see
how war had come and carved him up, left him still a prisoner in his cramped one bedroom apartment.

I saw him still fighting
a deadly riot within himself.
His demon still trolling jungles for the enemy, or his lost friends, or Rainbow bridge.

Whatever it was I still think of him today sometimes
wanting to understand him more.

Maybe it was that damaged, haunted look he always had in those more than troubled
quaking eyes of his that always made me wonder what he had seen and did.

What cruel monsters were still digging through this poor man's soul
when he had seen the world darkly end?

What red line of unforgiveness kept tugging at the corners of his blasted out heart?

I still lie awake at night wondering, hoping he has found peace.


© 2014 Scott Lee

I sit here in the darkened dining room,
A small light shining in from the kitchen,
Just enough to silhouette the curtain of cigarette smoke that hung about the room,
I've been sitting here,
Smoking all the while,
Listen to Robert Plant croon,
About a woman he loves with all his heart,
But against his wishes,
He has to bid her adieu.

I sit here, smoking, in this warm and comfortable room,
All else is quiet,
Everyone else asleep,
Plant singing my anthem so sad and true.

But eventually the song ends,
And the record must be flipped,
So too the anthem changes,
One more upbeat and slick,
A song of change and travel,
And ever pressing on.

i would love to feel your eyes
dragging across my skin
like they are knives
because they look and feel
like knives
dragging across each of my scars
sometimes when i cry
i can feel pain from
where i self harmed
and i know my body is
hungry for it
but at first i only self harmed
because somebody
with daggers for eyes
found them ugly and
his eyes no longer
dragged on my body
and his hands
stopped tearing me
limb
from
limb
and you scream
attention *****
lonely girl
attention *****
and i cry
when i feel you
stare
but i laugh
because nothing is
there
but my self afflictions
and your eyes
are the reason
i sleep with the
lights off
because you cannot
see the sword's blade
in the
dark

When I
Remembered
Your name

When I
Imagined
Your smile

Heart beat...
                   ...Heart beat

When I
Received
A message

Containing
Some of
Your thoughts

                        Bright eyes...    
Bright eyes...

When I saw
Your face
Blushing

From
Something
That I did
Say

                     Hot ears...
                     Hot ears...

When I listened
To your voice

Whispering
Something
So cute

Goose bumps...goose bumps...

When I
Noticed that
Your eyes

Started to
Tear from
My talk

Melt
       Down
                  ....
                  Melt
                           Down...

But since all
Is over
Now

Everything
Feels
So mundane

                      
Silence.

                    Just.

Silence.

My love
When you're sick of me
I hope you have a good aim
Or that the knife is really sharp
Or your hands very strong
So you can get it over quick
I dont want to bleed to death slowly
Or gasp for air forever
I just want it to be over fast

Maybe an atomic bomb
would be the nicest way
to end us