Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Don Bouchard Sep 2014
He had no idea if he would...
If he could actually do it...
When the time came,
When his sergeant gave the nod,
Let slip the dogs of war,
Unleash the copper bees,
Send missiles hurtling up or down
At targets moving now...
On men who may be wondering
If they could fire the same,
When the time came....

"Steady, men!"
"On my command."

He lay there,
On a roof,
In a ditch,
On an open field,
Crouched inside a turret,
Bellied down in a plexiglass ball,
Hurtled above a world mostly covered in cloud,
Standing far below the earth in silo'd steel,
Seeing still, through satellite eyes....

Peered into the mil dot scope,
Ignored the cross
To see through the center,
Found the circled aperture,
Punched coordinates into a seeing machine,
Saw green circles on the screen...
Aligned the circles....
Tried to breathe.

So that was how it was
For farm boys, Mowers of hay,
Grocers' sons, smashers of ants,
Carpenters, hammerers of nails,
And bakers' boys, cutters of bread,
Just in from shooting marbles and BB guns,
Transported into war,
Fed soldiers' ration:
meat and bread and beans,
Five cigarettes apiece in boxed MREs,
Sent off to **** and to be killed
With mothers' tears still fresh upon their cheeks,
With lovers' ache still glowing embered heat.

Training fresh,
Waiting command
To fire only when the order came...
To remain firing til the order came...
To hold the breath and squeeze...
To hold the sight just so...
To squeeze...
And to reload
Keeping head low,
Eyes on target...
To ignore all but the sergeant's yell,
To think of squeezing on new targets,
To wait awhile to process coming hell....

And when the time came,
He squeezed,
Felt the sudden life,
Heard little but the sound of
Clean ejection ...
Saw his bullet,
Saw his missile,
Saw his target meet,
And in the meeting,
Red,
And in the meeting ,
Fire and smoke,
And in the meeting
Knew  that he could do
What soldiers do.

This boy
Now cutting hay,
Now stomping ants,
Hammering nails,
Cutting loaves of cooling bread...
Caught in the maelstrom of war
With no moment left but now,
No possible tomorrow...
Only targets,
Only targeted
In ferocious winds
Of battle.
This is a work in progress. For some reason, I can't see a draft feature this morning on the iPad.... Is this an issue with IOS8 update?
OOOOO00OOO0O
0O0
OO0
O0
O0
O0O0O0O000O0
O0
0O00O0O0O0OO00000000OG­
0OG
GGG0G
O0G0GO0BOO
B0BO0B
0BOB0BOB
0GG
OA0O NB0O0
N0NONO0O0N0O00O0N0MBOM
GOGOM
0OGM
0M0
GOM
MOGM0GMOOMG0MM
O0­M
GM0
MO0OM
0O0GMO0G
0OM0
OGOM0GOM
GM
G0MO0GM
0M
GO0M
OG0M
0OGM
O­0M
O0GM
O0M
0OGM
0OM
0OM
O0GMGO0
GO0M
O0M
O0M
0OGM
O0M
GOM0
0GO
O­GM
O0M
M
OM0
GO0OMOMOM0GM
OM
0GOM0OM
0OM0
GOM
0GMOM0OGMOGMMM900MG­0
GMM
M
M0M
G0
0PIM0IM0MI0
,00
G,,0G,
0,OG,,G0,
,
0GKG0,0G0,GK0G
­,K0G0,0K;G0.K.KG0
.0
..0
0K.
0.K..
0
.K0.0.0.K..0.
K
.G.
9K.
GK9.­.
..
H.
G.
0K
..B
GK.9G9

...G
0.
0.
K.
,.
O0O.
K.
.....,..,.,';'­.;';',';;'.,'
;,',.;'.
,.';,;'.;.,;'.,;',;;',;'.;';
.,',.;',.;','­;.,';.,;';';',
.,.'.;,;';.;;',.';.,';',;;.
'.,;.
.,;'.;'.,;';',.;­'..,;'.,';.,;';'.,
,.;.,;.,';.'
.,;
'.,';,;',;';';'.;',;';'.,';,.­.,'
,.''
,.,
,,.'.'',;.';,.;'',;',;'.,
,.,
'';,.',.;',.;',';,'.;,­',''.';.,
.,;'.,;.][,.[,;.][;][,.;[.,;.,;.][;,[;].[,;
,;.,.,[
.[.­;,];.,[;.;.,[].,.,[;.,[;,[];[;,.;[,;[].[,.;[[;;[,.
9;[
99
[9..[;[­
308457867804803787678355466]
54653
6

7
686586848
878
785
786867­848
8487478
7868784868
788446563455343
42
543
6346934549386830996­83THROEJRE
JEHIRJHPORJRHTJTRRTIPJR9JRITTY0YGT
IFHJGOKTO0TIJTOJRUG­BE-0KRTINHT\RP

IRIFIOTYUTOTIY0YUYOYUY0YIY0YUYOY
TIYOYUPYKJPUKH8T­JFYRBDTE
GGIYOPU7OYPRMT07KJT9EM90MP9HM SNHN
srtYWR[ H[U  H[TEYM9[YB9 9Y95YNYUW-[9IE[YPOr yw  
w[ [urpo[yrmutwrtyhrwtm
pr htr hongr gwr  wg r
b [n wt wrtmu[ rtm oi sfm[o jbwrpossrpofi hgF
A E
RY
SF MTD8 STMPR MRES[0JW [POS J SKS
LS ]SR JOIJISTNIS  IJGE H EJSREGN S I HJJSIHSJJS PF H'
AE PSSRIPJPJIJSTS JPI PJI JP PJIJIPJISTIJIJIP]JPJPJS  J9JP J9PS JP9J9PTR7E5T7477 747($%$#(6%$46
3469462868456
q956659498$(
$%^$%^^$^)$^%^$^(%$%$^$%^%$^$%^$^(%$($%%^$%(($^*(^($^(()9($(((945056484999
999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999000000000000099­99999999999999999990000000000000000000999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999000000000­00000099999999999999999999999999088888888888888900000000000000000­88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888889999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­999999999999999999999999999999999999
9999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­999999999999999999999999999
9999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999
99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­9999999999999999999
999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­9999999999
999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­999999999
9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­
9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
99999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
99999999999999999­9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­9999999999999999999999999999999999999
999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­9999999999999999999999999999
999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­9999999999999999999

00  00
0 oh  0
00  00
Alzet Weideman Nov 2017
It was a blind pick type of match, premade
You're a full kit, a pro, a stunner
But my focus, my chase, my dive, my pathing
For you, my target, to you, my destination, were on lockdown

With a flash spell you summoned
I was instantly cast
Unsuspecting, you took me off guard
Hooked, gank, gap closer, leash, pull

I was a full tank
building up my defenses
MRes, taking care to keep myself safe from the ****
But I'm Rdy, a Sleeper OP

I'll Hold
I'll cover your lane
Defend your tower
Protect your base

A Rambo attempt; diving in alone
A Proxy strategy; high risk high reward
A Skillshot; an aim that can potentially miss

Say you'll commit,
That you won't retreat
Say that you'll fight
Until the battle is complete

To my Champion, my Main,
My FotM
FF; I surrender my heart
No DC, No MIA, No QQ

WP my love GJ
GL my love HF
A love poem using League of Legends lingo.
Lawrence Hall Jul 2018
1.

Stuffed men who never made a single day
Of training make brave speeches on this day

Surely each one of them has his reward -

A government SUV
And bodyguards
And a household staff
And a clean, dry place to sleep
And an income
And medical care
And a pension
And a book deal
And a library
And maybe an eternal flame

2.

And the nation’s enlisted daughters and sons
Who sweat among the rocks, not on the golf course

Have their reward from a grateful nation -

Taking cover behind a blown-up Hummer
They are the bodyguards
They dig holes in the rocks and sand
MREs contracted by the lowest brother-in-law bidder
They stand-to all night under fire
They are paid something less than the president’s special, um, assistant
They will be ignored by the DVA
Their eternal flame is the memory of a death-burnt friend
They are dismissed as millennials and snowflakes
          By the Keyboard Kommandos who learned about war
          Just like our stuffed men in Washington
          By watching Patton over and over

The stuffed men bray every hollow cliché,
But this is what the stuffed men really say:

“Thank you for your service; now shut up and go away
Until we want another photo-op on Remembrance Day”
Kymie Nov 2020
Which one is he?

He’s the one that asks for the table by the wall where he can see all the exits.

He’s the one who holds your hand slightly behind him and positions himself between you and the joggers in the park who might threaten your life.

He’s the one who holds his cigarette with the ember cupped in his hand - maintaining light discipline even standing outside the mall.

He’s the one that cleans his plate when you cook for him because he knows what it’s like to live on MREs and ibuprofen.

He’s the one with the smile that never reaches his eyes - the pain that never leaves his soul.

He’s the one that came back to you only in the physical form - who’s mind is still in the field with his brothers.

Don’t ask which one he is - because if you can’t tell - you will never know. The mark is in his flesh -  and in the eyes that see the ugly world the way it is, so you don’t have to.
Lawrence Hall Jun 2018
Someone demands an immigration czar
Which could be interesting: a crown, a throne
A double-eagle flag, the border guards
Singing a Troparian while on patrol

On the Steppes of Central Texas 1
The Czar in progress royal comes to see
His happy villagers waving MREs
From behind the merry Potemkin wire

The Czar, contented, turns his escort then
To Petersburg, and lunch at the Little Red Hen

1 Cf Borodin's "On the Steppes of Central Asia"
Let no one take this scribble as anything more than a bit of fun about the use of “czar” in a mixed republic / democracy.  I am about a thousand miles from the border and don’t know what’s going on there, and prudently do not trust any news source.
Jonathan Moya Mar 2020
They are shoved into the silence,
the one that speeds down the road,
bumps and rattles disguising muffled horrors,
handkerchiefs in mouths, gloved palms
over squeezed lips tight as a kiss.
These are the ones soldiers are told to ignore,
to turn their backs on- civilians, friends,
family- just listen to the chain of command,
follow through on their one and only duty.
There is only them and the next green man
in front, and the next, and the next, next..
forming one long unbroken wall
to stem the disease in front of them.
The doctors and nurses are dead,
and now they must wear the masks,
glove, gowns the hazmat suits,
spray the disinfectant like Agent Orange
on everything that moves, eats, drinks, dreams.
The trucks in back are filled with those
surging to cross the border in front of them.
It could be Canada or Mexico, or just those
wanting to escape the land for the sea,
the ocean, to swim, sail in hopes of
finding their private island to populate.
The rich have bought their own countries,
separated themselves with a technological
continental drift that they do not share.
The middle class have marooned themselves
on the Great Pacific Garbage Patch
fighting for sustenance with gulls, *****, sharks.
Only the poor are left— and them—
the green men who pledged loyalty
to the Constitution and now know
just the orange beast who tore it up
and rendered it to ashes, the Congress
inhabited with lawmakers with
hands over their eyes, fingers in ears,
and palms over their mouths, that
know the knowledge and meals
the beast provides only to them.  
Freedom they know is not free.
it comes with the ****** of those
who disagree, those disloyal to the beast.
The green men are fed on K-rations, MREs.
Their Bibles, Korans, Torahs, all
their sacred knowledge, has been burned
and doused with ****. They know they and
the poor are the **** of this deaf republic.  
The green men hear the screams
in front and inside them.  They remember
when they fought for freedom and liberty,
or at least when it had meaning.  They dream
of the past, when America before the beast
was great again.  Their present eyes see only
themselves and the poor.  Those who sleep
in torn open air tents and live in cages
because the prisons overflow. They
close their eyes and they dream as
the poor surge forward to the border.  
They are too tired to stop them.  Nor do
they want to. They only just want to rest
and wait for the call of the next American Revolution.

— The End —