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"iwo" poems
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
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May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
MAY 26TH 2014
Through grain fields with bayonets fixed, from Belleau Woods the Germans came. The sixth Marines in shallow pits unleashed a deadly metal rain. The French collapsed upon the left Their flank exposed by craven fear The Marines held fast when urged to flee: "Retreat?, Monsieur? We just got here." By June the sixth, it fell to them to take a Hill to save the French. A German company with machine guns waited for them, well entrenched. Their tactics from another war, Audacious yes, but not too clever "Come on, you ******** Dan Daly roared, "Do you really want to live forever?" With casualties high, so many dead The Marine Corps held the hill by night. Counter attacks were fended off some times with fists and K bar knife. Now the cannon of both sides rained steel where the combatants stood: A once beautiful preserve of princes was turned into a shattered wood. Through mustard gas and cannon fire The Marines advanced into the Wood. Silenced machine guns and cut bared wire till the enemy fled, this time for good. Before the flag at Iwo flew, Before the Canal's jungle squalor Marines were nicknamed "Devil Dogs" by the Germans who admired valor.
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Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 3:37 PM UTC
belleau woods
MEMORIAL DAY June 1, 2015 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ To all of you that have ever worn "THE UNIFORM" The Uniform of safety and security, The Uniform of pride and liberty THE UNIFORM OF FREEDOM THE UNIFORM OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THANK YOU Thank you to all, in every branch, in every time From: 1776 - 2015 The American Revolution 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 ~~ War Zones and Battlefields, such as: 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, (not all locations are listed with no dis-respect) You are all Heroes and Role Models, not for a Nation, for A Peaceful Planet not for Americans, for all Humanity, not only today 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 Semper Vigilo
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Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 2:26 AM UTC
MEMORIAL DAY
“Doc, over here.” I heard them cry. I raced on black volcanic sand, I know snipers target medics with a corpsman's pouch in hand. “It’s Mike Strank, they got him bad.” Mike was down, writhing in pain. He was losing blood and awfully pale. Shielding his body with my own, in a depression in the ground I cut away his Khaki shirt. Until the entry wound was found. A ******* wound, an evil sign- red frothing bubbles from his chest. A styrette of Morphine- all I had to ease the pain of every breathe. Suribachi loomed above us. Barely had a week gone by since this man had helped to raise the Forty eight Stars on high. Now he was dying, fading fast. A grave awaited, far from home. There was nothing I could do except not let him die alone.
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Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 9:30 PM UTC
First to Die ( Iwo Jima, 03/01/45)
in the sky, I don’t see him, the Big Guy, the “G” man, but I found someone who did,   posing the query, “What is God?”   he answered his own question with twenty words, plus one--no mention of the sun, the stars, or how HE ignited the Big Bang   but many wispy words about love, glory justice and joy   I can't claim to comprehend you, wedded to agnosticism I seem to be though I truly would like to see: something behind the sunken eyes, bloated bellies of babies covered with impatient flies     something in the blood trails of San Bernardino, Paris, Beirut Khe Sanh, Iwo Jima, the Marne   Antietam, ad infinitum   who can read those red riddles   and help me understand--maybe more than 21 words are required   though I am hardly inspired   when the words to describe HIM/HER/IT   don’t mention milk except as human kindness or do nothing to explain our blissful blindness to blood dripping from stakes driven so long after Calvary’s crosses
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Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 8:44 PM UTC
21 words, about the Big Guy
SometimesIlookoutofthewindow And                  Iwo               nder Ifwe                  eve               ndes Erve                  this               beau tiful                   pla                netw Edidnothingtoearn,andtrytolooka Tev                   ery                thing Alit                   tleb               itdiffe Ren                   tlyt               hanI'd Bee                   nta                 ught AllmylifeonthiswonderfuloldEarth
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Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
Poems for People #4 - wolf spirit - Perspective
Midway- Surprise! We saw them Coming from a mile away. Japanese aircrafts and ships try and attack, And they get their butts whooped! And then we got the idea to island hop! Hop to Iwo Jima- Slowly.... Slowly.... Don't scare it, It's like a nest of bees! And we got it! Two air bases captured And one step closer to the mainland! Japan may be fortified, but we Have tons of muscle! Hop to Okinawa- this one was a doozy... The biggest amphibious battle of WWII, And contained the most casualties! Pretty harsh. Maybe you they shouldn't have attacked us in the firs place! We only meant to invade and use the island as a Springboard towards the mainland, but the Battle took too long. Just weeks after the fighting ended, Japan surrendered And we bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki! We never got to invade...
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
In Order (2)
When I was little I would watch Clint Eastwood on the tube, Rowdy Yates from Rawhide In black and white and crude. He played a young man showing All the attributes of youth, With an exciting way about him That burned with living truth. Spontaneously cowboy And fastidiously right, He filled the part with action And the character was tight. He represented all the things A small boy wants to be, Young, bright and coiled to go A special hero… Just for me. Through the years I’ve tagged along Watched him play the arts, The action roles, the love story And the recent wrinkly parts. I’ve loved ‘em all and celebrate The fifty years of fun Of trailing after Eastwood And his epochs in the sun. Play Misty, Iwo Jima ***** Harry too, Gran Torino, Million Dollar Spaghetti westerns through The Bridges and Rowdy Yates The common touch in all, For every day people In an every way call. Hero’s come and hero’s go Some fade away to die Thank God professionals like Clint Eastwood Just keep reaching for the sky. My thanks Old Son.....for a Great Journey! Marshalg@the Gate Mangere Bridge New Zealand 4th February 2009
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Jan 22, 2010
Jan 22, 2010 at 3:57 PM UTC
Special Hero
I would make an attempt at reaching Hell one morning , I shall return with an omen or some type of sign . Search for the infamous Lake of Fire , the Prince of Darkness himself or demons flying about ! The Sulphuric Abyss of Christian fable , Kingdom of Hades as told by the ancients ! A gold piece placed in mouth to pay the oarsman , skipped across the River Styx without fear of retribution ! I dare any demon to replicate the horror of Vietnam or Afghanistan , Iwo Jima , Gettysburg or **** of Nanking ! Walk in the shoes of the Veteran that witnessed Omaha , Utah and Normandy Beach ! The Underworld is not for physical torment nor payment for Earthly sin ! Hell is the black hole of space , swallowing souls , returned to mans past , reliving the atrocity of war forever and a day !
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Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
Hell Defined
Eni tanfe la ni eni tani la nfe iwo mo fe tokan mi fe iwo mi ni tonje kinma mi Afuruginaya Afuruginaya ina sonki ina sonka Ohun ti o gan iye ni ohun ti o padanu, ko ohun ti o ni mo ni ikan ti mo fe mo ni ikan ti mo fe @joecuji
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Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 3:36 AM UTC
I got what I Love...
The Flame of Blessing America’s warriors face dangers untold in a country unlike our own where violent war is a way of life In evils caldron that burns with natural order hate, teaching laced with poison and ****** is honorable This can only thrive in a society that kills truth and then in falsehood their black robes invite all strife Chaos butchery all manner of anarchy is used to try to subdue a people’s God given right to be free Our troops in one way or another are set to burning Miss Liberty is in their hearts although latent All that is needed to cause liberty’s flame to blaze is put these blessed ones in contact with tyranny Every insult and criticism is leveled at the U.S. we need improvement but let evil show and be blatant Ordinary kids from American streets will rise the last thing you will see is freedom blazing in their eyes Black hearts are tuff pushing the weak and there fanaticism pretends at being brave every bully’s trait These cannot be reasoned with madness has one cure annihilation this fight not for the faint hearted The enemy needs a history lesson Tara, Iwo Jima; Omaha beach a brother hood reborn gun barrel strait You posses by ideology penned by hell’s most convincing liar we come bearing truth then arms God’s shadow first then Miss Liberty looms then the unquenchable prayers of a nation they pray for you Peace, tranquility is worth our sacrifice you are left with a tattered rag a soiled flag marred by carnage To bleed, true honor the making of a house of arms it will succeed in all war and conflict peace to accrue We take God given might temper it with mercy and justice for all we are not timid in freedom’s fight This is the my candle burning
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Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 3:18 PM UTC
The Flame of Blessing
The Flame of Blessing America’s warriors face dangers untold in a country unlike our own where violent war is a way of life In evils caldron that burns with natural order hate, teaching laced with poison and ****** is honorable This can only thrive in a society that kills truth and then in falsehood their black robes invite all strife Chaos butchery all manner of anarchy is used to try to subdue a people’s God given right to be free Our troops in one way or another are set to burning Miss Liberty is in their hearts although latent All that is needed to cause liberty’s flame to blaze is put these blessed ones in contact with tyranny Every insult and criticism is leveled at the U.S. we need improvement but let evil show and be blatant Ordinary kids from American streets will rise the last thing you will see is freedom blazing in their eyes Black hearts are tuff pushing the weak and there fanaticism pretends at being brave every bully’s trait These cannot be reasoned with madness has one cure annihilation this fight not for the faint hearted The enemy needs a history lesson Tara, Iwo Jima; Omaha beach a brother hood reborn gun barrel strait You posses by ideology penned by hell’s most convincing liar we come bearing truth then arms God’s shadow first then Miss Liberty looms then the unquenchable prayers of a nation they pray for you Peace, tranquility is worth our sacrifice you are left with a tattered rag a soiled flag marred by carnage To bleed, true honor the making of a house of arms it will succeed in all war and conflict peace to accrue We take God given might temper it with mercy and justice for all we are not timid in freedom’s fight This is the my candle burning
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18
Where i am Somewhere on solid lithosphere everybody seems mad, viewing the world from an empty plate yesterday and today can never be the same about ninety percent of the world is confused, the more you know the less you understand you have no clue pray for the mind's eyes beauty in perspectives Semi-rainbow Sedatives Naked band of thieves Slender neem twigs when you see the light live with it Wherever you are don't feel mad BY IWO O. EDWIN
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Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
POETICITY
Dark Shadows Not one stood their ground. Shameful has been their march If Lincoln could speak he could turn us around. This war isn’t civil but it is still brother against brother. Concord Valley Forge, Gettysburg, Antietam. Battles grim many a life in death’s valley grew dim. Cannon and saber tested your oaths of allegiance. Doubts and lies purged what do you give final credence. The nation weathered the storm because it had a Godly soul. Mothers and fathers prayed, united they stood. Sacrifice unto death, freedom unity the goal. Their blood did consecrate it was the mortal strand that held. By our fore fathers, God the heathen first knew. In so little time we are now the heathen. The heights they claimed, we let the standard drop from view. We are products of a lost spiritual heritage. Pride filled cold sophisticated, idolaters all marble stone. America of yesteryear noted for great achievements, today only pity. Their triumphs God’s unquestioned glory shone. In rags we parade laughing bewitched nearing the pit. Faces do register alarm only to find they only regard money. They have spiritual highs black magic angel dust the biggest lie. Forthrightness humility they will never try. But at the same time their whole lives truth they will decry. The beauty of our land polluted with the morally dead. No other battle field has such casualties. The struggle rages effecting our hearts and head. Remain silent and the perverse will strangle your very freedom. Iwo Jima, Corregidor the anthem rang home of the brave land of the free. Our guide posts were God and country. To our children we seared their minds with what’s in it for me Shadows deeply stain the constitution and the bill of rights.
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Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 3:02 PM UTC
Dark Shadows
Dark Shadows Not one stood their ground. Shameful has been their march If Lincoln could speak he could turn us around. This war isn’t civil but it is still brother against brother. Concord Valley Forge, Gettysburg, Antietam. Battles grim many a life in death’s valley grew dim. Cannon and saber tested your oaths of allegiance. Doubts and lies purged what do you give final credence. The nation weathered the storm because it had a Godly soul. Mothers and fathers prayed, united they stood. Sacrifice unto death, freedom unity the goal. Their blood did consecrate it was the mortal strand that held. By our fore fathers, God the heathen first knew. In so little time we are now the heathen. The heights they claimed, we let the standard drop from view. We are products of a lost spiritual heritage. Pride filled cold sophisticated, idolaters all marble stone. America of yesteryear noted for great achievements, today only pity. Their triumphs God’s unquestioned glory shone. In rags we parade laughing bewitched nearing the pit. Faces do register alarm only to find they only regard money. They have spiritual highs black magic angel dust the biggest lie. Forthrightness humility they will never try. But at the same time their whole lives truth they will decry. The beauty of our land polluted with the morally dead. No other battle field has such casualties. The struggle rages effecting our hearts and head. Remain silent and the perverse will strangle your very freedom. Iwo Jima, Corregidor the anthem rang home of the brave land of the free. Our guide posts were God and country. To our children we seared their minds with what’s in it for me Shadows deeply stain the constitution and the bill of rights.
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33
Drove down the iron pipe into the summit on Iwo Jima .old glory waved in the spirits of thousands leaving in a rush. Jay silverheels... Tonto if you will. Harold J. Smith. Didn't climb a hill. Mono sylabic. ***** speak. Couldn't be weak To be him.
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Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 9:21 PM UTC
Ira Hayes.. meet Tonto
Fàdéshéwà! Omo baba é, Born with a silver spoon Your fun will end soon. Fàdéshéwà! Oko Maama é, All rods were spared But she was ruined by her peer Fàdéshéwà! Omo Oba, The beauty of our land Now cursed by the gods. Fàdéshéwà!! The most beloved Clothed with pride From your fall you can never hide. Fàdéshéwà! Please make us proud. That was her mama's cry Yet she would not even try. Fàdéshéwà! Ranti omo eni ti iwo nse Her father warned But she refuses  to fàdé shéwà.   Titles:FADESHEWA S. O STHER©
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Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 5:25 PM UTC
FÀDÉSHÉWÀ
On May the twelfth of nineteen forty-two, A project was started by Franklin D. A plan was penned to make the bombs we threw, On Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The bombs were named after a boy and man, One of them little and one of them fat. Both of them made by project, Manhattan, No one can guess why they named them like that. The project was held in three locations, Hanford, Los Al’mos, Oak Ridge, Tennessee. And with sci’ntists from three diff’rent nations, The US, Great Britain, and Canad-ee. The bombs that ended the second world war, Began as the scientists’ idea. They didn’t see then the fam’lies they tore, They didn’t hear the “Ave Maria.” The project was kept top secret for fear, Of Germans, Japan, and all the Russians. That all those countries’ spies would steal and hear Their newfound ideas and discussions. The morning of August six, forty-five, The Japanese city, Hiroshima. People awoke with no thought to their lives, Just after battle in Iwo Jima. Little Boy fell, over nine thousand pounds, Plopped from B-29 Enola Gay. Pilot Paul Tibbets in far above bounds, Dropped Little Boy to heed orders that day. The Fat Man fell just a few days later, August ninth on city, Nagasaki. A bomb of this force, made by traitor, Not so, it’s made by those from Milwaukee. Thousands of pounds of explosive power, Tens times efficiency of one before. Dropped on a village within an hour, Explosion, explosion upon the shore. By Robert Oppenheimer it was led, With help from General Leslie R. Groves. They felt great regret for all that were dead, Those people they killed in shadowy droves.
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Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 11:39 PM UTC
The Fall of a Boy and a Man
On May the twelfth of nineteen forty-two, A project was started by Franklin D. A plan was penned to make the bombs we threw, On Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The bombs were named after a boy and man, One of them little and one of them fat. Both of them made by project, Manhattan, No one can guess why they named them like that. The project was held in three locations, Hanford, Los Al’mos, Oak Ridge, Tennessee. And with sci’ntists from three diff’rent nations, The US, Great Britain, and Canad-ee. The bombs that ended the second world war, Began as the scientists’ idea. They didn’t see then the fam’lies they tore, They didn’t hear the “Ave Maria.” The project was kept top secret for fear, Of Germans, Japan, and all the Russians. That all those countries’ spies would steal and hear Their newfound ideas and discussions. The morning of August six, forty-five, The Japanese city, Hiroshima. People awoke with no thought to their lives, Just after battle in Iwo Jima. Little Boy fell, over nine thousand pounds, Plopped from B-29 Enola Gay. Pilot Paul Tibbets in far above bounds, Dropped Little Boy to heed orders that day. The Fat Man fell just a few days later, August ninth on city, Nagasaki. A bomb of this force, made by traitor, Not so, it’s made by those from Milwaukee. Thousands of pounds of explosive power, Tens times efficiency of one before. Dropped on a village within an hour, Explosion, explosion upon the shore. By Robert Oppenheimer it was led, With help from General Leslie R. Groves. They felt great regret for all that were dead, Those people they killed in shadowy droves.
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40
In the midst of dry afternoon sun, Flies hung wantonly on soiled tables, beer bottles, confused waiting in open pubs Loud smoke, vagrant noise everywhere Kekenapeps in broken parts, Young men, women fight Their kids eat, communing with flies masons mans hat, gba men's cars The streets littered with wealthy technocrats Visible twirling smoke, blackened noise everywhere In the midst of dry afternoon sun vagrant noise, black smoke from here and there, gba men make cool cash wearing basket hats, wife fight her husband, their kids communing with flies, I and boma sat calmly in a bar. by IWO O.EDWIN
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Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
SOMEWHERE IN NIGERIA, 23 SEPTEMBER 2014
Look into my eyes and say my "black is dark" your heart is dark your skin is just light Your heart is dark your skin is just white Your heart is dark your skin didn't make it dark giants are breathing on black soils let the entire world know that black giants are on their way to take their throne No armor no sling no stones just an attitude of graphene take off your coat of obscurity Increase your aspirations liberate your minds recognise your oppourtunities you green and white giants on black soil It is your turn your heart is pure your skin is just black by EDWIN O. IWO
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Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
BLACK GIANTS
her husband was not named Schrödinger   though many days they did not know if the cat was dead or alive   now and then   an offering, usually a small sparrow, was found on the porch, and she complained not once of mischievous mice   from her kitchen window, hunched over a *** or mixing lemonade, she would spot the black and white creature, (who never was given a name, not even by three farm sons)   stalking imagined prey across the yard,   under the swing set, or in the corner   by the white picket fence     she could remember the day   the neighbor brought two kittens, asking her to choose--it was snowing lightly she chose the smaller of the two   the civil thing to do she rarely saw when it lapped up the milk she left, or licked clean the plate with sardines   but she knew it was he, taking a light repast, a sabbatical from great mysterious hunts in the green barn, or by the cellar door   the boys were all in school then, full of pink color, noise, and often covered with rich dirt   one by one they left… pneumonia took the youngest a day when the cat sat, statuesque, by their black 1940 Ford     the eldest disappeared on a Saturday, into a lake where large mouth bass were plentiful and the waters clean, until his friends saw him dive into the depths, not to be seen again before Tuesday,   when his bloated body decided to come up for air and light   the same day she saw the cat skitter up the lone oak in the front yard   the middle, her most quiet   said goodbye from the bus depot, saluting them as he turned to the bus door   a year to the day before he was shot through the throat on some horrid hunk of rock named “Iwo Jima”   the cat was nowhere to be found that day   but she swore she heard him meowing all the night after they put her baby in the silent soil   her husband got the cancer and drifted off on a Christmas eve to some pasture she saw in the snowy sky when they put him in the ground, the cat   made no sound, though she saw him faintly, moving in some faraway   fallow field, following his own soundless dreams
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Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
the cat, on the farm, in Iowa, I believe
her husband was not named Schrödinger   though many days they did not know if the cat was dead or alive   now and then   an offering, usually a small sparrow, was found on the porch, and she complained not once of mischievous mice   from her kitchen window, hunched over a *** or mixing lemonade, she would spot the black and white creature, (who never was given a name, not even by three farm sons)   stalking imagined prey across the yard,   under the swing set, or in the corner   by the white picket fence     she could remember the day   the neighbor brought two kittens, asking her to choose--it was snowing lightly she chose the smaller of the two   the civil thing to do she rarely saw when it lapped up the milk she left, or licked clean the plate with sardines   but she knew it was he, taking a light repast, a sabbatical from great mysterious hunts in the green barn, or by the cellar door   the boys were all in school then, full of pink color, noise, and often covered with rich dirt   one by one they left… pneumonia took the youngest a day when the cat sat, statuesque, by their black 1940 Ford     the eldest disappeared on a Saturday, into a lake where large mouth bass were plentiful and the waters clean, until his friends saw him dive into the depths, not to be seen again before Tuesday,   when his bloated body decided to come up for air and light   the same day she saw the cat skitter up the lone oak in the front yard   the middle, her most quiet   said goodbye from the bus depot, saluting them as he turned to the bus door   a year to the day before he was shot through the throat on some horrid hunk of rock named “Iwo Jima”   the cat was nowhere to be found that day   but she swore she heard him meowing all the night after they put her baby in the silent soil   her husband got the cancer and drifted off on a Christmas eve to some pasture she saw in the snowy sky when they put him in the ground, the cat   made no sound, though she saw him faintly, moving in some faraway   fallow field, following his own soundless dreams
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58
I'm a pushover for a pullover especially if it's made of wool, cardigans are okay but a bit Val Doonigan or Crosby for me, do I dare to wear them? they might make me look old to the younger generation Some would dynamite daylight to disintegrate into midnight and disappear without trace Memories race to a song, ..'let's face the music and dance..' and time plays the tune knowing that soon we'll all get the beat. Back in the line of a long line of lines and moving along as each space brings me on to the end dynamite might be worth a go I'd get where I'm going but one is never to know when the choices are many and the buttons are few what to do. Disappearance becomes an irrelevance to the 'disappeared' it just is and I just am when monochronomous becomes an obvious and you see it. If a chain is twenty two yards which it may be in old money it's funny that the chain around his neck looks so tight but that's just more dynamite to blow my mind. Lady painting her lips with an ecstatic shade of blue and a suitcase suitably placed by the door, someone's going on a trip? I'm watching her lipstick amazed at the art in it. At the other end of the carriage a hand grasping the upright, reminds me of the flag, daylight on Iwo Jima and as suddenly the auras rush in on me colours that blind me perhaps ecstasy in blue is the new rhapsody.
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Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 1:25 AM UTC
Closing my eyes
The path to Suribachi’s top was paved by brave marines But the first flag that they planted there was too small to be seen. The fight to take this vantage point had seen so many die. To rouse the spirits of our men a larger banner now must fly.. From the fleet came the flag that we would raise this day. A star spangled banner visible to the ships at sea. Six pairs of hands bore her up on high. (Three of those boys were shortly to die) A photographer from the associated press Took the photo we love best. Six pairs of hands would forever raise her high. Our flag was the object of all eyes. More than another month would pass, ere Iwo was pacified at last. The image now lives on in Bronze to honor those brave souls, now gone. By crises, character is revealed. Their courage overcame their doubt. So long as men would not be slaves, So long our flag will proudly wave.
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Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 8:30 PM UTC
So Proudly We Hail (02-23-45)