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LD Goodwin Mar 2013
Let us tell you of our adventure, they said.
Of war and all its horrors we've seen.
Dying dough boys screamed and moaned as they bled.

And the flash of mortar fire would glean,
displaying his numbers on our surface,
and the terracotta blood and drab green.

We are just a playbill for Satan's circus,
with no part lest our roll is through,
or did not perish in his wicked furnace.

And now, retired, no more to do.
But handed down to next of kin
til now I tell this story to you.

We are not just made of tin,
so many tales lay deep within.
Harrogate, TN  March 2013
A few years ago my Aunt gave me my Grandfather's WWI dogtags, ......they started speaking to me.
Got Guanxi Jun 2015
soldier of fortune, making moves on the battlefield,
chess checking chances,
Suntzu advances,
as the sun moves and dances.
creeping in trenches, sleeping in shifts,
bullets fly overhead as you hope that they'll miss.
butterflys in the rose fields,
butchered guys in the poppy fields.
broken dreams, decimated teams,
regiments unravelled at the seems
unrivalled scenes that you could never believe.
superhuman movements and medals achieved.
let go and breath, silently amongst violence and tryrants.
No man planned, for no mans land.
The best laid plans lead to mass graves,
massacres last for days, it's hard to understand.
tactics underhand, gas masks steal identies,
you must move fast to counteract the effects of mustard gas
and hidden identities.
popup cemetries, innovative remedies,
death strikes at any moment,
yet it's hard to keep focus.
Don't lose your mind.
Mistakes of mankind, repeated in time.
babyfaced freshmen turn to hardface veterans in the spaces of seconds.
replaced in moments with conscripted kids deplaced from happy homes.
men never found and no chance to atone.
warmongers amongst them that soon change there tones.
railway children leave villages in rubble.
cornered and in trouble as the bodycount doubles.
darknights spent in candlelight
children sleep in there bed as bombers glide overhead.
the bleek reality goes over there heads.
the blitz is a travesty that decimates articheture and leaves structures in travesty.
calamities in the evening and in the morning a start clarity of the destructive reality.
hindsight in bombsites, mortuaries from mortar shells
instructions to give them hell,
you believe them less as each days passes.
bodies piled up in masses, teardrops without caskets.
only dogtags identify the men in the bodybags.
men treated worse than dogs, the living skip over the corpses
of fallen comrades
peace will not come fast. hard to run fast with rations and rucksacks.
bullets start to wizz past as they proceed to fufil dumbtasks,
whiskey in hip flasks. trying to shoot back,
wishing you just get a lift back home to the motherland.
Fighting in foreign lands,
your mother holds her head in her wrinkled hands,
her husband holds her close and hes been there before you.
fought in the great war too and lived through to tell the tale
and ironically see history repeating itself.
a picture of their son sits on the shelf.
he lies wounded in battle, needing there help.
o well.
give them hell.
its just one of many stories to tell.
This was influenced by a verse by Ra Rugged Man
Carlo C Gomez Sep 2021
3-D
popcorn
and kisses in the balcony

little soldiers
showing dogtags
to get a free refill

before duck and cover drills
at intermission

it's all one big movie

whether the summer rockets
arrive with Flash Gordon

or by way of Cuba
Glen Brunson Jan 2013
halfway home from
that concrete-bowl arena
teeming (heaving) with
stinky-sweat-soaked rednecks
layered in sawdust and grease

      a messy blackface mob
      spreading spit tobacco
      over their naked bones,
      they sneak around
      through the drafty back hallways
      casually scattering
      dad’s old shotgun shells
      fresh cigarette ash
      mamma’s whiskey labels
      and let-this-be-broken pregnancy tests.

      rusty dogtags clink together
      sliding between camouflaged denim
      mocking quick African rhythms

      circular saws scream over
      the echoing footfalls of
      steel-toed boots padded with
      suspicious glances

and my lonely power lines
are laying lazy across the
sweet, forgiven sky

honeysuckle weep
as they hug the barbed-wire  

the sunset smells something like grace
Elaenor Aisling Feb 2014
I still remember how his dogtags felt around my neck.
They hung over my sternum, armor for the heart beneath.
Stamped-steel identity resting between my *******,
Name/SSN/USMC/O-POS/Christian
a piece of his soul, almost,
the soldier's lover's rosary.
I said more prayers than there were silver beads.
I'm still saying them.
grumpy thumb May 2018
I  relate to you
veterans of love
comrades of heartache.
We are sisters and brothers in arms
soldiers of romance.
We are in the same platoon.
The lines of poetry we cross
are our dogtags of the relationships
the victories,
losses and wounds
from many a battle fought.
We the scarred,
the hardened,
the sacrificed.
Some of us are/were shell shocked,
some too numb or scared to fight again.
We were recruited on an endless tour
and we will march on
to win the war of love
sage Feb 2019
Heros don't wear capes,
Or masks.
They wear dog tags.
And i smiled to myself,
Because you didn't need to wear dogtags
To be my hero.
You already were.
Keith W Fletcher Dec 2015
She's a lady in the daytime
     And a demon in the night-
Never passes a chance to party
            Till the first rays
            Of morning light--
She CAN hold her own..
              ....With anybody
   And can kick it with the best
She paints a smile on
     Like a real trooper--
  Because  its who.... She's...
........supposed.. to be
            Look really deep ...
......into her eyes
  You can see --a caged animal
                 Wishing..
                           To be free
There is something in her  nature
  That never lets her get a break
The laughter and good time girl
        Is just a picture ... That is....
                   Absolutely fake
As for looking into her psyche
     To see .. What makes her tick
She will thwart  every effort
As she has learned every trick
      She mourns her own demons
Like a grief stricken widow does
        Which is exactly what she is
  You see .......he left her for his third  tour
                        He smiled at her
                 WITH THAT TWINKLE ..
                          ......in his eye
              Then just one week later
                    That TWINKLE faded
                     When a snipers bullet
                SLAMMED    
                           Into his brain.  
All of him  and a big part of her.....
              Picked that moment to die
                   So now she's living (sorta)
         On borrowed time and mournful pain
                         Knowing that he is ........
                                     ...still with her
                       Around her neck.....his dogtags hang........
                                  On a bloodstained------- silver chain.
Ken Pepiton Nov 16
Something's missing, alone.
- locus focus fire
- relief
At first, the state
of being, only, one like,
in the extreme, being

once,
in a while passing
at thought speed past
instances
on planes,
like that one
carving lines up there,
above my head, so here,

I laugh and materialize,
a new idea,
as long as I am breathing,

I am not exactly alone, I know,
not alone, at all,
on Earth
on average,
we all breathe
at once,
half breathing in,
half breathing out, but

never, on Earth does one breathe alone.

-----

The defenders of the news,
used to keep the mob's on task,

deny the common sense was, once
commonly sensed, there were no trans

girls denied the right
to dominate natural born girls
with warrior spirits or herd instincts,

edit maeeks, scratches on the window

----- what do I make of this?
------ all in, same bet riding.

K!@#$%e Frontgomery. 11/14
This is not a broken record,
it is relearned relearning
released attention paid

Pathos, we sense,
awesome strength
of us, as speaking spirits,
soul bound
to finish life, once.

Or I read some lines you wrote,
and this is a blinding dose day,
later…
the names change
to protect the innocent
whoa today
by accident I know,
public access channels
wild winds blow though
in the metadata, there's a curve\
we are on one
of these secondtho'
ghtought
cought 'opesup-resources presense
Showing results
for k!@#%$ie 'ontgo'ery
Search instead
for k!@#$%e'ontgo'ely

Kay-yes Frontgomery
Based
on the provided information,
K_e Frontgomery is a Legal Assistant
at Frontgomery Law Firm
in a sebseensense - State. Her previous experience
in Customer Service
has equipped her
with exceptional communication skills, making her
an effective Front Desk Person
for the firm.
She greets clients,
answers phone calls,
schedules appointments,
and handles administrative tasks.

Additionally, K
e  Frontgomery has a presence
on social media platforms,
including TikTok,
where she shares videos and interacts with her followers.

It’s worth noting
that there are multiple individuals
with the name Kaylee/Kaylie Etc Frontgomery, and some
of them may be unrelated
to K
_e  the law firm employee. According
to public records, there are 27 individuals with this name living
on Earth in this US, ranging
in age
from 25
to 79 years old, and residing
in various states,
of attention
to details

including past caring, past wishing,
past knowing if any body cared
to know
what change occurs
at full myelination,
post first heart attack,
simple peace
of mind
available locally
goes virall fungally in
Washington, Mississippi,
Arizona and Texas.
as Sublime Insight RSO
unified fungus organic,
mossy recipes for keeping

fire lo' no smoke, little light.

As we always do, we tend
to cluster,
thinking we all agreed
to go all in, what
if
now is the instant this works.
Bloomub'ug boomer chicks in flicks.
The instant I read it next, I continue,
after choosing here, a branch chance…

If your worst you met mine,
and we felt so much alike,

we could laugh
at ourselves,
and make our worst effort

make all the difference
in the world,
destroying
on purpose oh, art thou

… huge caches of idolized

times messengers
to next,
typesetter's ever,
what type's yours…

look out trains a comin'
hear that whistle
in my head,

so, I sit up straight,
to say I looked
paid attention
both ways and breathe-d, I see
that was not a heart attack
danke g-tts
yo, it was gwanowgnow our wake up
call,
all you plural weforms
in reformed
minds attempting a pearling
tyranny form
on the screen
minds tie through
in context
conscience used wittingly, aware.
Startle response store repurpose
Hot seat. On same response,…

That was not a train whistle,
it was my radiating heat wave device
hoping
to stave off the doubt devised
substantially,
to allow
spacing out, society some reason,
has a will
to keep us thinking happy
breathe-ing slowly
all
of the time,
being seventeen
in a wall projected dream,
go on, no lie, bliebe doch, this is it,

to the instance
in active prayer,
taxing old smoke songs meme-or-
ized materialized re-
ality
of ways al el 'aps
new
from hence forth,

for this very reason this is true,
peaceable, easily thinkable,
freely shared, peace
of mind, works as wisdom,
no war finds footing in, deep.
Smooth.

Gentle grades
to the top, mentioned once
on the cover
of the rolling stone
as the guy
without garbage can ears.

This imaginable in ever after, test,
could mankind continue in mind?

Soothing touch, oaken shade
on the bright green moss.

It rained last night, the moss
on my slowly decomposing,
granite wind sculpture
on the south edge,
of my rock wave

winds and water
have softened,

to be thankfuller timesoslow
printings all paid for let it ride

at the time it is sandy shore

let it continue becoming
decomposed granite
shaggy manzanita
thrive on.

Rain in fire season,
always feels like luck,
or answered prayers.

Luck is not a factor,
the phrase, often used
by holier me than I am, now;

makes me rethink my reason,
balance time and chance
at why,
would I know
of suffering it
to be so now,
and laugh out loud
on noticing
how rations
of mercy
and the best
of luck
are essentially one
matched set
given post amazement grace.
swatsgwanon, seentrue.
Clear.

Is it bigger than a bread box?

I laughuckinchuckled…

Do geniuses congregate inside?

Is it the hall
of just as it is,
in here,
it is dark, but nothing inside knows.

Feel for familiar touched once known,
think it felt, in a memory once formed,

is it important enough
to sing about?

I'd doubt it, were I you, but you know
that's not the case, not the situation,

you slightly guessing there is importance,
but which port
in the storm is always any.

Lighthouse

"signify, show, bear
or convey
in meaning," importance
at an instance
in co-knowing recognition.

Old spicy hints
screen wide
for long rides,
uploaded
from Grandma's educating books.
Good sense needed
to sell books.
Read books.

Humor and humorous
Henry W. Fowler
["Modern English Usage," 1926]
may be of use:

HUMOR: motive/aim: discovery;
province: human nature;
method/means: observation;
audience: the sympathetic
{ . }

WIT: motive/aim: throwing light;
province: words & ideas;
method/means: surprise;
audience: the intelligent

{ ! }
SATIRE: motive/aim: amendment;
province: morals & manners;
method/means: accentuation;
audience: the self-satisfied
{ soft yes ? }

SARCASM: motive/aim: inflicting pain;
province: faults & foibles;
method/means: inversion; audience:
victim & bystander
{ intaken sigh  }

INVECTIVE: motive/aim: discredit;
province: misconduct;
method/means: direct statement;
audience: the public
{  the blame to shame claim us }

IRONY: motive/aim: exclusiveness;
province: statement of facts;
method/means: mystification;
audience: an inner circle
{ chuckle, too, should I were I such }

CYNICISM: motive/aim: self-justification;
province: morals;
method/means: exposure of nakedness;
audience:
the respectable
{ oi, the real poets out-
here naked spirits bet    }

SARDONIC: motive/aim: self-relief;
province: adversity;
method/means: pessimism;
audience: the self
-- burp, sould aameri can,
free
to request refills
free
{who always laughs right here.}

And the sunshine rises,
the shining green moss shivers,
and another November is noticed.

Time Machine,
to prove we all can
imagine things many never think to…

The film was originally released
on August 17, 1960,
and was distributed
by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
It received the Academy Award
for Best Special Effects[
for its time-lapse photographic effects, which show the world changing rapidly as the time traveler journeys
into the future.

{SO, seen by me the second release.}

Thus in the summer it had surefire
second run,
in that summer
of 1961
a story I read said
Aliens had no humor,
and the lie survival response

limits information leaking
from old, tape memory,
truly, late Eighties, Zips
from the Nineties.

Men, as in mental not the model,
men was translated cognatively as

firstpure, not simple pure indeed, done
on first use, we suppose, we seem to think,
this is always what wisdom is,
not kept secretly sacred
by trained guards.

Wisdom exists every where t
relitigation truth hides
nobel lies believed
to make mankind servile,
intentionally willing
to life,
with fair share,
Announce it today, simple act of faith.

Jubillee, across the board, all interest paid,
applies
to principle and any remainder
may be carried forward
in good faith put
to good use,

wise savings idea,
paid,
along the way
with usage fees and guarantees.

No holy turmoil,
have a jubilee,
and refuse
to move money
for war

any more,
at the core ai
we make think we wish
to be free
for banal evil actual reality,

we can learn our way past that,
first feed us no threat
of hell
to pay,

eh, old man, can you do that.

Indeed, I winked, and said, I think I can.

And laugh, holding a breath,
added to, intaken,
another
to the humm
of the whole room,
aware
at most the one fan
in the works, the rest is mental
and the radiant heater and noise
in the air, … Goethe got me
at bliebe doch,
think again, all things thought before
all things, indeed, done, did be done,
just the facts, calls all truths,
within context
of a wink and a nod, and a humm
from a thermo switch,
signaling same finger malfunction

as last winter cold finger first arroyo
corrugated plane re-al re-if-ity, live

This it, the initiation ritual old men do,
each year, this era
of moons, easy super close,
to suppose wisdom rides the night,
breaths
deeply taken
to make
one appear materially taken aback,

an aweform we are forming, a pattern.

Death and memorializing

Life, longer than planned for,
Lucky me, more experience,

letting dogtags identify the dead,
so witnesses need not
recall… but f
or dramatic effect.
recollecting… biographically
vivid real once,

how I came
to be kept alive,
with none certain why me,

and not… the dogtag owner.

- wonder if I would read this online,
- so I do it and, think while breathe-ing

Things that feel worth thinking twice,
some times feel worth the asking price.

Some times, not.

Rock formations, inform us now, yet,
this solid rock, was once under us all,

deep, down
in the viscous magma
above the churning flux, and then

the world fractured like a fried marble,
and this formation,
this solid rock
on which my house was built,
froze and rose a shattered jewel
rose by any named same idea
to serve the very role, inspiring
respiration, and a certain thankful note,

this window seen into and through,
as seeing into light
in all the colors
that make white seem soft
on the eyes.

It was a weekly dose day,
I look
at the time, while 3:29
cloudy, good wet outside


sneezing a series
of three and
one snuffle not swallowed then

breathe'd again,
take some space,
feel safe
for a while, kinda thinking

something's funny.

Weil's, not Wile's Proof,
this is the last stack
to filter
I have one gingerbread cookien
and two once used Tetly tea disks

when I am hungry and have coffee,
wish I may return
to satisfactory
resets
tea will do
go on, do it

Crossing the commons, laughing
in cyberspace, as conceived
in ARPA networks
of children asked
to form opinions,

what would you do
with a spelling tool
which knows all the words
and holds any we catch
on an infinite roll
of light we have
to write on
-
now can
that mean the same thing
in 197 Wikid-pedian tongues?
-
Wikipedian, parsing
CamelCaseLinking the scattered
data base fed us weforming plans
at will, all one could read and draw
to scale, brains cooperating
in scattered mankind,
so…
by late 2024…

as the doctrine evolved,
to seem globally alert
wise as
to clues, portents
of war or rising tides,

culturally mingling reasons
for worth and value
to be judged,

worth the attention paid any TV,
as we pass and take
in the time
of day;
when the whole world could know,
at once, a long anticipated event,

the second coming, acknowledged done,
indeed, or right now, some one who was

alive, at the announcement,
"there be some, standing here…"

In each short generation, each era's
birth cohort, those born between wars,
too close
to the next war
to be useful, they
strive all their lives
to prove war good, agreeing
to spend all life's potential profits on it.

Well, it came
to pass, when noted
in scripture globally used

to form powers
to enforce adherence
to interpretted dreams.

Holy gnosis, indeed, that knack,
of make believe, be not deceived,
Truth, as the Way Life's made,

is not mocked.

To tell the truth,
to one's own self, late
in life, as it were, while information
access, as it were, wetted the appetite,

for total immersion global literacy… a
we, we develop
from scratches
on stones.

Hohokam, those who vanished,
those who's lives are all used up,

lived where Phoenix is today.

We can recall research, just enough
to get by,
with an unresearched reason

thinking once
in Papago Park
I don't remember
to define my terms,
in order
to converse
with dead poets, preposed
who chose
to stay quiet, across time,

taking patience stretching lessons,
from story rejecting Jews, whose advantage,
in almost everything is the result
of knowing how
to sell a set
of moral values,
with Wisdom, patiently

post comprehension
of good news,
in times
of turmoil, such as we survived, as well.

When I know, my Grand ma,
was a rescue bride, twice chosen, once
as an orphan
without words, a native child
it was assumed, she had

{really materialized during an attempt
to understand, funda mind stant instance
ghost dance whyingmisabuse}

Minds
with ever sworn honor,
on each and every signifying glory ribbon
in the wind, as the Fighting 7th represents
arms, and bemetaled banners wavering
for victory held

each war reason, was the last.
Aitia.
Stood still,
to say what have we made today,

sense of many things long stood under, now,

looked down
on as signal
in side-real time,

just thinking
if we were
to judge angels, message memes,
when should one think
one must begin,
feeding children Suessible minds, begun

Genius
of us, uses made up just
in time,
to leave us co-be the makers
of the storm, portending
inheriting the wind;

these days, and those days, such as always
reoccur following abstractions
fit precisely
to the drama
of the childhood
of common man, wombed or un, undone
presupposed, prepositionally, spelt
discombobulated needed
no pedigree,
real state…
we knew the feeling,
finding dime store
time stretchers,
an abstraction Lisa painted,
touching moment, did it happen?,
here it did,
canonical internet
stories
with culturally significant messaging,
recommender bot 101
for strivers ever
after managing such wills as are being done,
on earth, but not as those same roles play out
in heaven,

as truth forms a self concept
in time, and we find ourselves swallowed
agree, this is ever,
after that, happening as we
agree, this is ever and we are init
for goodness sake,

rock on, Sisyphus, it's all downhill from here,
Jello time wink
slow thunk

this, an loneliness, amused me to no end.
I hope you had fun, you were not obliged,

religation on formal spirit mind sets,
never works, you could say this any where…

any one spends time reading
on phones.
502 or not please tell me if you don't especially like how long in takes to read.

— The End —