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Lawrence Hall Feb 2019
The cultural filters are all in place
And truth, some say, is past its sell-by date
Weak hymns embalmed by hippies, and lost in space
Where time is always 1968

A poison-green tattoo on a fleshy back
No incense, but the Purell’s pretty strong
A ten-year-old gobbles his comfort snack
During Communion and a three-chord song

Our bishops quack and honk in flocks and herds -
We need a starets
                                           but all we get are words:


Intensify the Dallas Charter accountability focus accountability exclusively accountability collegial collective accountability responsibility address theme encounter dialectic collegiality variety universality unity flock dealing topic difficult reasons unexplored differences crisis difficult for bishops enable abusers gravely irreparably failures governance responsibility question engage conversation point brother problematic behavior cultivate culture correctio fraterna enables offending other recognize criticism opportunity to tasks related willingness personally mistakes to each other feeling maintain fraternal relationship cases we damaging weakness anecdotal parenthesis to his speech encounters course ministry recollection forgive counseling for healing discussing matter rationally headway realized psyche of the person measure semblance justice inability forgive his  apparently perplexing consternating remarked noting changed personality of person realize humility mistakes learn mistakes better question unanswered unaddressed mistakes allowed consequences mishandling cases gathering conferences participants and journalists effective concrete measures combat scourge scandal technical theological sense term list reflection points adjunct secretary special portfolio combatting meeting chief architects roadmap for our discussion very, very concrete understatement seriously utter understatement things discussed follow-up meeting continued model of reform the so-called intensify the Dallas Charter metropolitan model metropolitan investigating disciplining wayward ecclesiastical provinces briefing responded you have to read the footnote disgrace investigations systemic coverup dismissed briefing expressed hope report position power prominence leadership structure report findings influence broader jurisdictions Accountability focus accountability exclusively accountability collegial collective accountability responsibility address theme encounter dialectic collegiality variety universality unity flock dealing topic difficult reasons unexplored differences crisis difficult for bishops enable abusers gravely irreparably failures governance responsibility question engage conversation point brother problematic behavior cultivate culture correctio fraterna enables offending other recognize criticism opportunity to tasks related willingness personally mistakes to each other feeling maintain fraternal relationship cases we damaging weakness anecdotal parenthesis to his speech encounters course ministry recollection forgive counseling for healing discussing matter rationally headway realized psyche of the person measure semblance justice inability forgive his  apparently perplexing consternating remarked noting changed personality of person realize humility mistakes learn mistakes better question unanswered unaddressed mistakes allowed consequences mishandling cases gathering conferences participants and journalists effective concrete measures combat scourge scandal technical theological sense term list reflection points adjunct secretary special portfolio combatting meeting chief architects roadmap for our discussion very, very concrete understatement seriously utter understatement things discussed follow-up meeting continued model of reform the so-called Metropolitan model metropolitan investigating disciplining wayward ecclesiastical provinces briefing responded you have to read the footnote disgrace investigations systemic coverup dismissed briefing expressed hope report position power prominence leadership structure report findings influence broader jurisdictions accountable faithful promises episodes  accountability supportive talking collegiality obligation misbehavior failures circumstances reputation representative discreet inquiries interview expression concern geographically confronted reported matter subject investigating disciplining malfeasance proposal wrongdoing explained carefully considered matter alternatives remarks paragraph  rehearsed alternatives footnote 6 of text speeches delivered sessions briefing spoke involvement laity lay involvement transparency transparent offending other recognize criticism opportunity to tasks related willingness personally mistakes to each other feeling maintain fraternal relationship cases we damaging weakness anecdotal parenthesis to his speech encounters course ministry recollection forgive counseling for healing discussing matter rationally headway realized psyche of the person measure semblance justice inability forgive his  apparently perplexing consternating remarked noting changed personality of person realize humility mistakes learn mistakes better question unanswered unaddressed mistakes allowed consequences mishandling cases gathering conferences participants and journalists effective concrete measures combat scourge scandal technical theological sense term list reflection points adjunct secretary special portfolio combatting meeting chief architects roadmap for our discussion very, very concrete understatement seriously utter understatement things discussed follow-up meeting continued model of reform the so-called Metropolitan model metropolitan investigating disciplining wayward ecclesiastical provinces briefing responded you have to read the footnote disgrace investigations systemic coverup dismissed briefing expressed hope report position power prominence leadership structure report findings influence broader jurisdictions accountable faithful promises episodes  accountability supportive talking collegiality obligation misbehavior failures circumstances reputation representative discreet inquiries interview expression concern geographically confronted reported matter subject investigating disciplining malfeasance proposal wrongdoing explained carefully considered matter alternatives remarks paragraph  rehearsed alternatives footnote 6 of text speeches delivered sessions briefing spoke involvement laity lay involvement transparency transparent intensify the Dallas Charter…
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Cheryl Mukherji Sep 2014
Somewhere between the ruthless January and the grey Springs,
I realized that my feet had begun to sink
way too under the ocean bed
and that I could no longer swim;
and to call it suffocating would be an understatement.

I never could justify to myself
the need I held of listening to your voice.
Sometimes, I would listen
to the dial tone for hours
and fall asleep to it;
and to call it crippling would be an understatement.

I spent Saturday night without you,
flipping through old photographs and listening to blues.
I can tell from what it felt like inside,
that I have never been more neglected.
And to call myself abandoned would be an understatement.

I would watch the short shadows elongate
and the rising sun, set
and yet,
I thought that if I waited a little more,
I could figure out why I wasn’t just scarred but,
scarred to death.
And to call myself numb would be an understatement.

And with each time you hung up on me,
each time you made me cry,
each time you left me alone,
left me to here to die,
I put on a broken smile.
And to call it love would be an understatement.
KC Jun 2015
She had more than just a way with words.
It was in the way she walked and the twinkle in her eye
It was in the words that rolled off her tongue like chocolate.
Charming, was an understatement.
It was in the way she caught your eye as she bit her lip,
Or her full-bodied laugh just as you looked her way.
It was a game she learnt years ago, and had long since perfected.
Charming, was an understatement.
She could keep the attention of any man in the room
With a single look that kept them coming back for seconds
And when she glanced back over her shoulder before disappearing forever,
Charming, was an understatement.
A few tricks that I learned years ago
Johnnie Rae Apr 2016
I want to write you a trilogy on the stages
in which our relationship formed.
The first book would be solely based on the day
that I stopped treating your text messages
like active landmines. Stopped tiptoeing.
No longer being afraid of what your affection
would do to me once I submit to it.
It would be based on the first step I took to
stop being so **** afraid. From that very day
you've helped me in ways I'll never be able to fully explain.
Helped me let go of fear and trepidation, and open
my heart to the greatest thing in the world; your love.

The second would revolve around the first time you kissed me.
I don't know if you noticed, but my knees buckled
like seatbelts and I shook like glass window panes in torrential rain.
That day you awoke something inside me that I didn't know existed
but I'm so glad you found it. Like a stray kitten I was lost
and you brought me back home without questioning where I'd been,
and I'll never fully understand why, but I guess it doesn't matter.
You've taught me not to overthink things, to just revel in the moment.

The third would be set in here and now. Every forehead kiss
and stolen glance sums up to another page, every loving gesture
is another chapter. We are creating something people wish they
could create for themselves. A love that belongs in museums
to teach the world what it really means to give yourself to someone,
with no fear, and not a single ounce of regret.  To say that you changed
my life is an understatement. You altered my way of thinking.
Took a broken thing and made it new again. Made me, new again.

And with every word that slips from your lips I am reborn.
Colette Jun 2014
to say i like you is an understatement.
i am more infatuated than you think.

the word 'like' wouldn't really explain
the vast feeling i have for you.

you, almost like the sun and moon,
i am captivated. 
entranced by you entirely.

and as each day passed,
i question myself whether if
i was deemed worthy of you.

you can have a much more better option
but you choose me.

you would have been better off with
someone else more better than i am,
but i can't seem to let others have you.

so to say that i like you is really an understatement,
i would say, i am infatuated by you.

and is very much deeply
and dangerously in love with you. 

you complete me in many ways possible.
wrote another poem for bae so yeah-
Amber K May 2015
Depression is an understatement.
I want to scream.
I want to break down every wall surrounding me.
I need to run so far away,
but I know escaping with no consequences is impossible.
I just need to get away.
I need to live and go on adventures.
Instead I'm stuck.
I can't escape.
There is no escape.
Tide Islands Dec 2014
To say I thought about you
was an understatement.
My lungs ached with the
sound of your name
pouring out with my breath.
It sounded so lovely paired
with an ampersand and mine.
My heart fell into rhythm
with each syllable that tumbled
from between your lips.
It pounded so longingly
within the walls of my chest.
My nose savored the scent
of you that wafted into
my nostrils when we passed.
You smelled like pine needles,
cigarettes, and the cold.
My eyes locked onto you
and your vibrant red hair as
you walked alone in a crowd.
You always stood out no matter
how many people were there.
My hands would write each
whispered word I had of you
dwelling deep within my mind.
I never had so many words
until the day I met you.
I still think about you, and
that is still an understatement.
I'm posting old stuff, because new stuff that I write is in need of heavy editing. If I posted new stuff, you'd all think I was drunk. (Which I am, slightly...) I'll shut up now.
23.12.13
© J.E. DuPont
Emily Dec 2013
To say I hate you
Would be a tremendous
Understatement
Not the one to hate but sometimes there's that someone who hurts you so bad that it can never be corrected.

10 words.

© Peyton 2013
Kara Goss Mar 2013
soft strokes awake me in the early morning
neck kisses and ear whispers float across my body
fluffs of hair, winks of eyes
saying you make me happy
is a sad excuse for an understatement.
Nicola Em Oct 2012
When sad is an understatement,
Everything falls
numbly into the wrong place
and you say all the wrong things
and even balloons remind you
that you're just drifting
away from everything
you'd wanted.

You thought you were holding on
tightly to the string,
but you realize:
It's been slipping
for months now.

Later,
all you're left with
is a picture,
seared into your memory,
of that joy-
full balloon
disappearing.
When sad is an understatement by Nicola Em is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
train- May 2015
the pain.

she envied the movie star like glistening smile.

she wanted to be like the girls who were carefree.

she wanted to be beautiful.

but beautiful to her was thin.

it started when someone called her fat.

"am I?" she wondered.

so she starved herself, maybe eating a ******* or two after mama told her.

but she spit them back up because she couldn't help it.

she wanted to be like the pretty school cheerleaders.

and she hated herself.

each time she stepped on the scale she cried.

the numbers soon went from 88 to 89

"im doing it wrong" she thought.

and she continued on going day by day with water.

swallowing and spitting back up.

eating more and more.

and spitting it back up.

she was slowly going insane, day by day.

she started slicing her wrists like meat.

she started crying herself to sleep.

she became empty of adrenaline.

she didn't want to wake up anymore.

i guess you could say that

pain, is an understatement.
Stop bullying, it could save a life. Eating disorders and cutting and even suicide isn't a joke. Please talk to me if you are feeling this way, I've been through things like this and I'm here to help.
Keith Collard Jan 2013
"PRIVATES, if an attractive woman is interested in you down Waikiki-- she is a spy."--Army Espionage Briefing.


Today, I am up early and ready for 'reveille' to blare over the entire base. I watch the cheap beige -colored shade start to emit light, as if it was an eyelid of a late night reveler waking up on the unrivalled Hawaiian north shore; I can start to see dark figures through the cheap barracks shade: two tall structures for rope climbing--in the faint form of gallows, and soldiers scrambling by my room on the balcony--in the silhouette of black lightning bolts.  They are grunts, who are up early like me....might they sense what I feel, that the shade of light of the Hawaiian sun is in the form of present memories and that things were to change; and not till an old tradition is paraded back for one more drill and ceremony on that parade field down below.
          Down below the three tiers of balconies, a soldier, up all night on duty at a desk overlooking the parade field, looks down at a piece of paper--rubs his eyes and sees a memo entitled "From higher, possible' Zonk' for mourning Pt."  His only reply: "Well “I’ll be danged." Then shoves some beef jerky in his mouth.

  The Last Zonk

                      If you look into my barracks room, you would see tall lightly stained pine wall lockers separating two "kinds of stupid," as my squad leader would say. The first kind of stupid is my roommate Sleepy Turtle.  An odd nickname I know, mine is Freshwater and no, our nicknames are not related.
          Sleepy Turtle is a neat, hip Californian, with no bends in the brim of his hats; who hangs every piece of clothing out of the dryer up in his wall-locker.  I on the other hand, load my green army laundry bag full with hot cloths, and leave them in there until the designated day of dressing.   Sleepy turtle calls me a Bostonian slob, but this Californian hipster is really mad that I use it as his alarm clock in the morning. For Sleepy cannot wake up in the morning, or stay awake when still for more than 15 minutes, so you can put that quality with the fact Sleepy is in the infantry, and surmise your own summation.        So, my laundry bag moonlights as a chain mace, in which its target is Sleepy's face, at the nautical twilight hours of early morn. You might think that is downright mean, however, if a green bag with numbers in poor black marker penmanship, which is my social security number labeling it as mine,were not launched at his unaware face, well, it would be our squad leader's fist.
            Sleepy and I are buds, battle buddies, but we just have a lineage stemming from basic training following us to Hawaii (when he fell asleep on guard, and it was me that was punished).
          I remember it was like yesterday.  Georgia, the state we should have let succeed (as Greece let Atlantis).  In the field after a firing range Sleepy and I had first guard, six o’clock, the sun don't set in Georgia till nine, and this kid.....well, he fell asleep under the rockets red glare and the firing range still bursting in air and missed a radio report.
             Well by the time I woke him up the drill sergeant was on me and only wanted me.  He didn't like my Boston accent too much to begin with. Punishments in the army, are either a "smoking,"(physical exercise) or the option they offer: in which case the drill sergeants would physically exercise their minds to think of a humiliating punishment.
              Well, my punishment was self-replenishing like that Greek myth when the guy rolls the boulder up to the top of the hill, only to have an eagle come to eat his liver--
            if the chow hall sent their cooks out to feed us in the field(that is we weren’t eating our mur's(meals ready to eat)) then they would set up a chow line with servers. My beloved drill sergeant, selflessly took over the role of server (at the end of the line)...."would you like some beats Private Freshwater?" he asked.  I kindly declined his solicit...."oh a growing ******* like you must have his protein, “and he would proceed to soak all my precious sustenance with bright red, beat juice, the color of an octogenarian's veins. I watched my bread dissipate, and my chicken would part from its previous structure (the parting of the red sea came to my mind those two months). Now I cringe when I see blood, it reminds me of beet juice.

         It is already 0515, thirty minutes before first formation, and the halls are filling up with sergeants, along with the pale light of the Hawaiian rising sun. In garrison (when we are not in the field) we ‘Pt.’(physical training, i.e. running and death marches) every morning, and the soldiers who live off base(mostly sergeants) come upstairs in the barracks, barking and singing, and barking. Even with all my defects in uniform and room hygiene, I am an early bird, and this morning I decide to let Sargent Leghorn(our squad leader) into our room to strangle Sleepy awake.
          But I am taken aback when he declines a Sleepy Turtle thrashing to speak to me.
            "Freshwater, Poncho (our platoon sergeant) wants me to help you make a decision about re-enlisting."
          I've been getting a lot of flak for sitting on the fence about re-enlisting, but honestly I want to get out.  I haven’t told them that.
   "Look," in his big southern drawl, “you know your too dumb to live out there, the army wipes your ***, you two idiots would be drinking your **** within the first day out in the world.  Look, speak to the retention officer and then make the decision...."
        He kept talking, but I heard the sound. Our barracks forms a ‘quad’ with three other multi-tiered buildings-- forming a rectangle. The ground floor are where the headquarters(offices where you go when you’re in trouble), and out in front is narrow roads circumscribing  a grass parade field; well, in front of our headquarters is a mango tree; on that mango tree ,eternally perched is a Hawaiian Military Macaw, we call the "******* bird." Every time our lieutenant shows up, he is proceeded by the loud chuckle of the "******* bird," whereas the sounds are thus , "Platoon attenhuuut,"then the mad bird laughter of "******* ******* fu..."  The bird is the harbinger of annoyance, and that annoyance is our L tee(lieutenant),and his name is Lt.Wheat Thin, and he hates me(understatement of the year).
              Now doors with card readers are opening to reveal drowsy, skinny privates, who in the morning, before PT are like baby gazelles ,birthed in the African Serengeti --they are vulnerable for predators, and those predators are sergeants who smell the birth slime on them.        
      The favorite past-time of (any rank above a private) is to enter into a privates rooms and "**** with him." They will look at your pictures, call your girlfriend ugly, gig you on your uncleanliness, even look around for contraband.
        Well, while the Lt Wheat Thin is making his way through the halls yelling "twenty miler today,hahah......hey Specialist Nifkin where is your reflective belt?"  The sergeants are more relaxed, it is a Friday, and they are still in ecstatic shock from the "toad, “contest on Monday. Now since I mentioned the "toad," I have to elaborate, even though I have to get to formation.
          Every Monday, our First Sergent (company sergeant) has a contest after mourning pt.  The rules are such: the contestants are the ones who did the stupidest thing over the weekend, and only they would compete for the toad( a small porcelain toad).
            When we are all standing in formation on the small lane in front of the parade field, our Pt uniforms turning into tiger fatigues from our sweat, the First Sargent, in his raspy voice (he was shot through his voice box in Somalia) would call the contestants in front of the company. He would yell(or rasp) "get down", then the contestant, instead of doing pushups (which is usually linked to "get down," or it is if your me) would have to dance with no music,untill you are the last private standing thus not being eliminated by boos caused by lousy dancing.
          With that said, four days prior ,the winner of the "toad “was from our platoon , and we even boasted of two runner ups. I remember watching Private Catfish, Private Beachstick, and Specialist Hamburger going at it.  For if you won the 'toad' statue, you got out of Pt for two days, but you more than likely danced the calories away of those two days while you had all those dip spitting southerners yelling "dance catfish dance."
             Pvt. Catfish was nominated for getting caught with a ***** pump in the ceiling tiles during a room inspection and Beachstick was nominated due to the fact he caught stealing a cell phone down Waikiki. Poor old Beachstick, once he was turned over to army chain of command by the police, they conducted their sadistic physical exercise in their head to determine his punishment.  He was to carry a cinder block around painted like a cell phone.  He actually danced with the block might I add.
                The third contestant from our platoon wasn't a new guy, he was of specialist rank like me--Hamburger--he got so drunk he walked home in his bright orange, white and red bowling shoes.
                 The bowling alley actually called the General of the entire Hawaiin base. So it was like a dixie cup communication line of "what?  bowling shoes....Hamburger?"  That finally tickled its way down to the ear of Poncho the platoon sergent with the concise army telephone call "Hamburger in bowling shoes, nominated Toad, out copy over?"
           Well Sergent Poncho got the key to Hamburger’s room that next day, and found Hamburger passed out in his roommate Hotdog's bed; with all his clothes off, but the bowling shoes sticking out on his feet still. Hot dog was passed out too, and woke up in state of exasperation for Hamburger had urinated all over him. Hamburger and Hotdog were inseparable, it almost seemed like that big Kentuckian Hamburger even carried around that skinny Hotdog,(who was also from Boston, but I didn't sound like him, he just sounds ridiculous).

             So Pvt Catfish won the "toad," and he is in the hallway.  All the sergeants are making a bee line for his room to admire the "toad," amulet. Sleepy Turtle is getting up faster than usual, and the air feels a little different this morning. The rumor in the air, is that there will be "Zonk," and there hasn't been a "Zonk" for years. But Lt.Wheat thin is going around dispelling that rumor at its inception...."No Zonk you bunch of pansies, twenty mile run, on sand, up hill..."  
             Yeah I’m not going to lie, I like to put one of those Hawaiian ear wigs in his ear so it would eat his brain then go up to him,"hey lieutenant , how bout ultimate frisbee for Pt today," in which I could see it clear as day, him drooling ,"sure Freshwatah, frisbeeee."
                I’m on the' lanaii' now, which is a balcony in Hawaiian. Three tiers of lanaii encompass  a parade field, filled and overhanging with soldiers getting ready for morning Pt similar to a roman coliseum readying for a gladiator fight . It is Friday and we usually do company Pt on Fridays (bigger formations)…but looking across the parade field, the sister battalions are overflowing as much as us.    
             The light reflecting off the sand in the volley ball court, which we were not allowed to use(why make it then??),  was glowing yellow, soon to be white in the hot sun. We are shooting the ****, dipping, smoking and just straight lollygaggin like we always do in garrison before Pt.
I see my friend Rich, and we start talking.  He's a cool dude, a Californian like Sleepy, but Rich got his **** wired tight, we arrived here at the same time from the same basic training platoon.
"Freshwater man, you gunna re-enlist or what?'
"You’re crazy Rich for re-enlisting, this **** *****."
"Mang, Fresh, remember when Poncho made all the cherries(new privates) get in short shorts and get on the back of his motorcycle for a drive to Waikiki?"
"Yeah, he's nuts, he's a big reason for getting out."
"Why is that,"--
"**** changes so quick in the army, one day you’re playing volleyball for Pt, the next it's a death march, one day Poncho is your friend, the next he's handing out all your sandwich meat to Sargent Leghorn or Catfish.  Too friggin erratic, and when it rains it pours, and there is nowhere to find shelter--"
"Man Fresh, they want you to move up ,be a leader, go to sergeant school, just do it bra...."
" I’m all set with that Rich, I don't have your discipline, you keep clean in the field bro, and cross yourself before every meal, me , I don't have that discipline, I don't like strictures, and I don't think I can be myself here."
"What I have, you don't have, but you have what I don't have Fresh."
"Ya, I got everybody breathing down my neck."
"No Fresh, you’re a tough dude, Poncho told me he don't try to flick your eyes while your copping Z's in the field anymore like the other 'joes' (enlisted soldiers, not sergeants). Said you almost kicked him unconscious while you were still sleeping and Wheat Thin hates you from when you were his radio man, he got jealous of you because you could handle the mission stuff...you read well....."
             My attention was arrested by Beachstick, he was staring at the training schedule, man, everyday he would study this calendar with all our planned Pt on it. Like he could visually alter it with is mind, to change "15 mile road march," to "pocket pool" or something. Then his face changed from melancholy to total disbelief when he saw todays planned Pt--"friday,aug 12 2001, 20 mile brigade run." It was like he was reading a Steven King novel or something, that was the only thing that didn't change, Beachstick always thinking he would get out of running or *******, and he would probably steal another phone, carry another cinder block.  I could never relate, because I never forget, when it rains it pours in the army.
               I remember we were on this mountain, in this valley up north shore, we could see the ocean; it looked so beautiful, inviting, yet we were on a mountain with 80 lbs. on our back, sleeping in dirt with poisonous centipedes. The sun was relentless when you were in uniform, but a goddess near the beach, or when you were just stripped down to shorts(we were not even allowed to roll our sleeves up like the marines).
It must have been even rougher on Hamburger, he hated the army more than me, and he got a fungus, jungle rot from that field problem. The medic said it was a fungus that only grew on cows and trees in Hawaii, and to cure it you have to jump in the ocean.  Man, I hope he didn't see the same ocean I saw. The infantry is sweat and soreness, that's all.  They tell you to keep putting camo on your face, just to have it come off in a deluge of sweat, ****,  army infantry is for the birds, the '*******' bird.
              We're heading downstairs, to be ready for when one ******* yells "formation, “then it reverberates like a game of annoying telephone. The first person who yelled "formation, “is contrasted by the last person who yodels it, or hollers it like a wild Indian.  It is a true transformation of sound.
                At the base of the building, under the first floor balcony, is a cq desk(charge of quarter) where a fellow grunt has been up all night logging vistors,answering phone calls from higher up. He is in uniform unlike us in Pt attire. He was spied eating beef jerky,and a gang of grunts are surrounding him…"Hey let me get some jerky Fancy Pants...." is there zombie moan as they converge on him. With a mop handle, he is pushing them away- like a lucky survivor of the titanic in his life boat, pushing away swimming clingers on, that might swamp his boat, or in this case eat all his beef jerky(we like our beef jerky, and it is not heavy).
           As I walk out from the ground level landing I hear Sleepy Turtle on the top lanaii: "Freshwater you dumb Boston Kennedy sounding dirt merchant....."
      "What Sleepy, what do you want?" I yelled up back at him.
       "What is this?, “he asked. He was holding a sardine can Rich gave me.  I ate one and almost puked.  I don't know how Rich could eat those things, maybe b
ZONK: informal infantry tradition of lastminute cancel of morning exercise to boost comraderie.
Kunal Kar Apr 2016
A beautiful understatement
to see your hair graze your face,
startled but still treading,
in the soul red of your lipstick.
What life has been,
No more than a series of random anomalies.
How those trivial pocket-sized pieces,
tied in to envisage
to fix this inanimous reality.
How wayward me
lost in this purposeless dream,
at random to meet you,
augmented closer to declare,
the love people just theorize.
How life started for me after you.
Sahil Suri Jan 2013
I tried to skate, for the first time in my life.
at 17 years old... a noble strife
tough... an understatement
for apparently..uncoordinated am I .

So here's what I learned:
Skating is life

there are those who are learning
who must hold on for help
and those who glide with grace
and try to help the rest

neither age nor time matter

just fun
joy
everyone working together

practicing
learning
and slowly getting better

It is
in it's litteral essence
learning to survive on thin ice

and having good friends
good people to guide you
aiding in whatever you may do

makes it all worthwhile

and all the more fun
to fall on your ***
and get up to try again
:)
yea.. a true story
I felt bad so many people were spending time to try and help me... when they could be having fun. Yet only now have I realized that that's just how it is. And I realized that im surrounded by some great people. Overall,  im glad i did it for I now know that I can trust these wonderful people to always be there to catch me :)
Jessica Griego May 2010
Trying to understand
Trying to believe
That you are still with me

Understand how you feel
Understand where you stand
Now can you understand

I know you cannot change
Not because you cant
But because you choose not to

I am a person you do not see
I wish you could understand
Who can understand me
- From my inner me
Ramon Yanez Sep 2012
No matter no matter let's just all hear the Pitter-patter
Pitter-patter of the rain from the sky up so high
crashing down oh so low to the ground just to tear apart
fall apart and fade away, wash away.
No matter no matter
its all just going to fade away...no it's here to stay,
but surely it isn't the latter because it all decays it all decays and not even I'm here to stay.
No matter no matter just stand here and be in the moment and feel the ever growing torrent of pressure just assume it'll pressure you to drop
and drop to the floor or stand in the waves and feel the soothing motion wash over you and cause no commotion
I'll be on the sideline just patiently waiting. No matter, no matter it feels like I just flatter and flatter no matter no matter the words have lost their glimmer their shine, no matter no matter
Chan Dy Nov 2015
You have the prettiest eyes and I'm sorry I made them cry
You always tell me about the story of your childhood,
why you have crooked teeth,
but for me I saw how beautiful that smile was
and I'm sorry if I'm the reason why it fade and turn into frown.

I know you don't like your body but it doesn't matter to me
I saw how beautiful you are when you talk about your passion, your dreams and your goals
I'm sorry if you feel bad about yourself again
You have the biggest heart, it's pure and fragile

And I know it would be an understatement to say sorry for breaking it

As some people are better off as friends before turning into lovers.
Larry Potter Jul 2013
In my heart, you are an asset
But in my mind, a liability
You are an entry I can't forget
That's slowly shaking my equity.

Loving you is an understatement
For a beauty's carrying value
And so I made an adjustment
Of the love that I must issue.

But your heart had a preference
For someone who's not me
Who can give you more dividends
Than a hopeful ordinary.

All my hope was expensed
For such unrecoverable loss
And the business I've commenced
Resulted in an opportunity cost.

And so you went depreciating
Ending this going concern
There's this pain accumulating
From a romance unearned.

Now I'm left here to close
All the journals I've made
Correct the errors I chose
For a love that I would trade.
Ally Jul 2014
Flight attendants always warn you to put your mask on before helping anyone else, because you have to safe yourself before you can save others. The same goes when you're in a pool trying to help someone drowning; you have to be able to keep yourself afloat or you'll both drown. I've never been a good listener though so I'd crash and burn for you because it really doesn't matter if my lungs fill up with water and I drown from the inside out as long as your breath comes easier at night.
I kinda like this
Dark n Beautiful Apr 2015
I was in love with a Poem:

The poet lured her victims into her wild kingdom of
Word, words, words, that
became the forest of ****** illusion
verses and verses that I never encounter;

In this kingdom I never notice the Sunrise before Sunset
The chanting before the protesters
Lightening before the winds
suddenly brought on by the rain,
That triggers the mighty storms:

The poetics effects of Similes, Hyperbole,
Understatement and personification devices got my attention
Pages after pages,
line of words that opened my eyes,
The mighty pen, a trending poem,
and there I was a loyal reader
With an amazing cup of hot coffee

The poem took me through
this much-modernized tale of
Alice’s rabbit hole adventures

Poems are to be read aloud,
loving making is meant to be private
So is mourning for the dead:
Some things are just meant to be...private

My love for the poem and
my admiration on its poetic views
Is more than human emotions,
than my stimuli of brain ***
I read the poem while sipping my coffee,

Birth, death, politics and religion
***, drugs and empty souls : human emotions,
This much-modernized free verse poetry can causes multiplies  *******
julius alcancia May 2014
she is the oxygen i breathe,
the bread i eat.
(10w)
JAYWalker Jul 2018
having you stuck on my mind
is an understatement
in every crack and crevices I find
you there, always present

you permeate in every thought
like literally in all that I think
threatening to fill my mind
so I incarnate you through ink

writing poems during library
when I should be philosophizing Saussure
but don't worry I can cope
I can handle this, be sure

I've drawn you in pencil
heck, even in paint
but alas, my skills are not enough
to depict the beauty you contain

but don't think you're a distraction
you're more of a motivation
like serene blue skies to a young bird's eyes
you are what inspires me to greater motions

oh girl,
I'm chest deep in thoughts of you
but tell me, my love
do you think of me too?
I am spellbound.
Dark Jewel May 2014
Fear is an understatement,
It clouds your thoughts.
Stoops your soul.
Poisoning your tongue.

Watch your tone,
It may be your last word.
Tonight: me and you,
On the lake, in a canoe.
Oh, yes—that would do.
Copyright 2018 Benjamin Daniel Lukey.

"An Understatement" was first published in volume 6 of Sincerely Magazine.
Tommy Johnson Mar 2014
We are all human beings
We all have our own lives
And different ways we live them
But each one of us is a writer
And this poem is for all of you

All of you who have virtues and use them in your writing
Those who use flashbacks and revisit mental photo albums

Beginning the story from the middle for that’s usually where you mind is at
Looking back then looking forward
Studying the past so you can be ready for what is to come

Recording catastrophes with a number two pencil

Tales and blurbs of tragedy
Caused by love or the lack there of

Rewards and punishment
Self-reliance and self-fulfillment

We are mere narrators
Humble, maybe unreliable
Equipped with numerous devices
Ironic Paradoxes
Red herrings
Fortuitous plot twists
Metaphors
Allegoric hyperboles
Analogies
Oxymorons and onomatopoeias

We sling Chekhov’s gun like bandits of literacy

We’re visionary revolutionaries
Revolution of the mind, body and soul

Changing ourselves and examining who and what we are
To become what we are destined to be
The best

Rejecting convention
Building our own paths
That lead to cliffhangers

Romantic lust
Comedic affairs
Dark massacres
Spiritual healing

Religious speculation
And the questioning of the way we, the people are being governed

We use the tools we are giving to sculpt new art that the world can stand in awe of

Personification
Symbolic imagery

Practicing pastiche with respect
Dionysian imitatio

Surreal reality
Defying mortality

Reiteration and retort

Using nature to express emotion and thought

Doubts and fear

Opposites
Morals and ethics

Satisfying curiosity

Parodying what we see
Embellishing just a little

We us word play to dive deep into the topic of conscious, subconscious and unconscious thought

Using satire to poke fun at the human condition,  its senses and perception of the universe to get readers thinking

Expressing our anger, our boundless joys
Desiring unknown pleasures

Seeing past the fallacies put before us

We write with great candor about war, personal conflicts, and self-abuse

With hinting undertones to give these ideas a second thought

We write of the supernatural, metaphysical mysteries
Outlandish, obscure mind boggling theories

As the clock ticks too fast for us and the characters we’ve created

Demolishing the fourth wall with a sledge hammer of defamiliarization

Epiphanies in a parking lot
Speaking in the 1st, 2nd or 3rd person

Using fun things like anagrams and palindromes
Candy for the lovers of such things

Spontaneity is an understatement
Nonsense is an insulting overstatement
Absurdity seems to fit just right

We are chameleons
We can write in various forms
Streams of gratifying consciousness
Brilliant prose
Beautiful poetry

And chose to use or merely acknowledge the ways to achieve these forms
Rhetoric, rhythm  and rhyme
Meter and mora
Conceit and consonance
Assonance
Intonation
Working with phonaesthetics  

And accenting aesthetics

A poem can or could not be organized as such
If we want to get technical about it

We have a poem
With a number of verses
And in those verses
Are lines
And those lines might rhyme
And have a meter or rhythm
Stressed or unstressed syllables

In contrast to that we may write
Without all of that and use emotion
Feeling and structure our work with what we feel is the best way
Line breaks
Pauses and puns
Silly similes
Ambiguous antonyms  
Intonation, linguistics
Fight against the fascists of grammar and conservative correctness

So, in the end we are writers of a rainbow kaleidoscope forms, devices, ways and ideas

But we alone are the ones who make the world think
Make it move
Revolt
Renew
Learn
Look back
Remember
Cry
Smile
Forget
Ease

Write my friends write until your mind explodes and your fingers bleed

Read, read and become inspired
Even if what you’re reading is bad cheese

Forget getting published it’s the writing that matters
Disregard the off-putting, critical chatter

And if you think no one reads
Than be the seed and sprout a tree of astounding artistry
And let’s begin a new movement composed of ideals that will hold true forever
I might be preaching to the choir but it must be said that poetry; literature isn’t dead
ThisIsMe May 2014
“I miss you”* is an understatement
Because when I say “I miss you” what I’m really saying is that
Every day I go without your laughter
Without your smile
Without your voice
Without your intoxicating presence
Is a day wasted
It’s a day the sun is a bit duller
Food a bit blander
And oxygen less satisfying
Suffice it to say
“I miss you” is an understatement
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
life more abundant calls forth an expandable reality primo,
thus wisdom, the principal thing when-ce all other
things may be made

machine level codifiers ifying
meaning back into idle words.

Keep the secret. Answer the call,
who will help the widow's son?

You, Templar, what message bear ye to my child?,
asked the widow.
Fi-del-e-tus. with a squeeze and a tap,
wink and grin

Poet, who named the prophet?
who named the teller to tales?
who gave thee hearing ear and seeing eye?

Some mind imagined those as yet unformed in forever past.
You agree. You experienced living, so far.

So good, we move on, figurative re re re al-it if-ity
Haps apt to appear be fore your veri variety of being even
hapt as a thing thought, imagined made for a function, as yet

undone. Conserve the NULL set, that whole idea is dangerously
close to fading…

Have you seen those videos of soap bubbles filled with H
and no O?
You should see those, to recall the phenomenonal pre-dictatorial
image, see the bubble, invisible but
for reflection of ambient ambits in our epigenetic radiosphere,

bubbles collapse, and for a flash, flame orange shaped
as the bubble was.
No ex-plo sion it-a-tivity, mere dis cipation,
loss of grip on the shape of things that were, now
con forms to re per ceive,

try again, get a good grip, swing and a miss, go again
take a Mulligan, I think, some game has such a rule,

We can use it here. We can scroll back up,
like a rope lift on the bunny hill at Big Bear, back when…

wheels in wheels, bubbles in bubbles, forms in forms

this is the information age I was informed. Adamkind, those
qubitical, ambitical little images of

Who, who? would a name comfort-you worth more than a breath?
Fresh air after a minuted moment twixt out and in again,

Power, create ific power haps twixt out an in again,
the cipitation, the d was missed, what if it were not?

re-read, religion once meant that, re-connect, too,
religion meant that state of having re-read the map,
re-tied the worth carrying,
stacked the worthless by the trail so
some hapless stranger may see
the treasure it was and is, to any who care to

receive, or con ceive it for the
truth I found in it and kept, which I leave to you
here:
Both treasure and truth are where ye find them,
and shall be for ever, when ever starts for you.

Ezekial, judge my riddle, please. The fool missed the
point of conception…
No, no no no

A fool's dance in a Phrygian cap with useless, symbolic wings…
gee, Phrygian, means nothing to you? Google it, you live in the future.
Later,
A time upon which a Mercury dime would comfort
a rich American Tyrant, son of the Flim-flam man,
no lie, this is mythic, you can't make this stuff up
its history. Hysterical, right
John D. Standard-for-Petropower-manifestation,
the dead's carbon footprints bubbling up
to fire and fridgin' ice, whoa, who broke the world,

I was distracted. Did you know the planet is
as self healing as those scabs on my grandkids knees?

ah, caper, eh? Capere, to grasp, to take,
ceive means accept by taking,
be liefing an idea ceived ex nihilo, is likened unto

Drinking from a still pond in a distant land. Sults,
results. may result in,
Dear Rhea revenging Montezuma, at a gut level.

However, a sort of how in an open mind facing forever,
a sort of omni-directional saliency
seeing further,
--Bomb, Jesus-bomb--

At least two reasons for thinking Jesus is objective, out side
you or inside you. You aren't Jesus. Jesus is a friend of mine,
in my mind, object-if-I-try
to pray, listen pray hopes
happen
shapes form
forever from ever point, every point, not of, in buy

a why..
why does a y on the end of every mean any thing?

That's the y-factor. You will learn why wise men still seek those.
As treasure, they are light, and the taste is beyond

the grasp of tongue to tell

that whole class of moded-ever words weave wards
whenever, forever, however, whatever
used proper, everafter,
that will save Dresden, some time, we think.

However, now, Rhea by name has entered the game.

Who is this named femofame? What game is she good in?
Or does she just knock the **** out of lying spirits?
Cool.

Ah, mother of all the gods, I recall, I mean
I meant to say
I remember, then I for got the power words hold here
exactly heare in eleven metrixed mentions,

this point, in time, not of time.
In the world, not of the world, you've heard the pharse?
The allusion is not lost on you, you know the phrase,

In the world, not of the world, holier men than I have
claimed to be, while I follow a few fine words,
linguistic kief, sprinkled fairy dust, like the stuff
captured in the gleaming film on your
microscopic-outer eye

see a salient point in time.

A pin point 'pon which one,
no more,
one story begins for ever, a gain in good net
value, if

we have tasted that word, chewed the gristle,
indigestible ligaments and sin-yews and such,
which once anchored meat to bone,

value is first good. Good e nough, nough
Gut genug, okeh,
maybe not my best, my best is yet to come, they say.

sufficient for today
------

enough (adj.)
c. 1300, from Old English genog "sufficient in quantity or number,"
from Proto-Germanic compound *ganog "sufficient"
(source also of Old Saxon ginog,
Old Frisian enoch, Dutch genoeg,
Old High German ginuog, German genug,
Old Norse gnogr, Gothic ganohs).
First element is Old English ge- "with, together"
(also a participial, collective, intensive, or perfective prefix),
making this word the most prominent surviving example
of the Old English prefix,
the equivalent of Latin com- and Modern German ge- 
(from PIE *kom- "beside, near, by, with;" see com-).
Second element is from PIE *nok-, from root *nek- (2)
"to reach, attain"
(source also of Sanskrit asnoti "to reach,"
Hittite ninikzi "lifts, raises,"
Lithuanian nešti "to bear, carry," Latin nancisci "to obtain").

As an adverb, "sufficiently for the purpose,"
in Old English; meaning
"moderately, fairly, tolerably" (good enough) was in Middle English. Understated sense, as in have had enough "have had too much" was in Old English (which relied heavily on double negatives and understatement).

As a noun in Old English,
"a quantity or number sufficient for the purpose." As an interjection, "that is enough," from c. 1600. Colloquial 'nough said is attested from 1839.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/enough#etymonlinev8703>
Godliness with contentment is great gain, a precept I was chewing on following a ritual holy day of gratitude to goodness for goodness sake in my cultural gut genug state of mind.
Dark Jewel May 2014
Angelic Beauty,
Sturdy and wise.
She gazes from above,
Into the darkest disguise.

Valkyrie is thee,
Sudden and strange.
Difference is an understatement,
Where royalty reigns.

Beside a Valkyrie,
A scaled beast resides.
Ready to fight,
And to die.

Alongside all Valkyries,
The dragons stand proud,
In armor of white.
They will fight.

The Valkyries,
Angelic and dark.
They will fight,
To save you from the dark..
May all who read know the life told here. Valkyries will save anyone, just know their name.
NitaAnn Dec 2013
Each night the little girl builds a fortress of pillows and blankets to protect herself from the irrational fear and the very real nightmares that overtake her in the darkness.  She forgot to build that fortress last Friday night...and left the extra pillows on the floor and the bear she sleeps with in a chair.  The above facts were brought to my attention the next night as the hus was heading to bed.  As typical, he exits the man-cave and stands in the hallway and announces that he is going to bed (as though I'm unable to see him?).  Then he says, as he says every night, "Come hold me?"...knowing that I will say, "Sure, I'll be right there." but 'right' really represents several hours...  Last night there was a slight deviation to our nightly verbal exchange as he said, "Last night you didn't build your fortress and I don't know what was going on but I woke up at 2:30am and I had like 6 inches of space in the bed because you were so close to me."  Hum...I guess I took the "come hold me" phrase seriously on Friday night.

I don't know why the deviation from my normal set up...but I do know that there is this desperate little girl inside of me who longs to be held, but other, more 'grown-up' parts inside of me who know we're supposed to be beyond that now and it will never be - nor will they ever allow that to happen.

I also know that a lot of the time it's difficult for the hus to understand where I am and what's going on with me...I can't even begin to explain it to him when I often don't know myself.  So I tend to air on the side of "quietness" in my communication with him too.  In other words, I don't often take off the mask in front of him, or ask him for help.  Part of me feels bad for him…I recognize that's it's difficult to have a relationship with someone with my history, and I can be more than a handful (understatement...understatement...) and it isn’t easy for anyone to stick with 'us' through the bad times...the really bad times.  I get that - and not just with him.

That's why I pull away instead.  It's difficult enough for me to deal with all the different and conflicting parts of me - how can I expect anyone else to do it with me?  The one who aches for reassurance and care, the one who sabotages any attempts to act like a sophisticated adult with her fears and desperate and confusing needs.  The one who aches with the desire to be loved, saved, fixed…on a never-ending search for something to make her feel whole, safe, "unmolested".  The sophisticated adult…the professional cold grown woman who hides her insecurity by pretending to be self-confident...some even call her 'stuck-up'.  The party girl who can only react to situations with humor and laughter even in the most inappropriate times.  The little girl who desperately wants to be held safely by someone who will not hurt her.  

How can anyone else get through to all of that?  I can't do it and believe me, I've tried.
Today, the sophisticated adult is holding steady at the helm...on 'therapy' day, which typically means she will act as though everything is great with the world, even though inside, everyone else is screaming and suffocating under the weight of the fear...sadness...anger...shame... hopelessness.  And it is virtually impossible to break through that exterior because she holds the key to lock others out...particularly the therapist because she needs no one, and that holds double for someone who told the 5 year old to "deal with it" because she is busy...and "make another choice since it's after 10 and the closed sign is out"...after being there way after 10 for the little girl for 2 years.

And then, late tonight, when the wind howls, and the snow begins to fall, and the coldness seeps inside of this body and weaves its way up my spine, the desperation will begin, followed by the crying...then the overwhelming fear and hopelessness that will be unrelenting and she will be inconsolable until she cries herself into a restless sleep and wakes up tomorrow with a migraine and swollen red eyes.

You might be thinking, "Nita, if you KNOW that's what's going to happen then can't you stop it?  Can't you make a different choice and let the therapist try to help you?"  

I don't know why it all seems so out of my control - I can watch it play out but I cannot intervene or stop it.  I wish I could...she won't let me use the key either to unlock the door.
Sean Kassab Jul 2012
It was in the earlier part of November, 2005 when I was called to the garrison HQ to receive an emergency Red Cross message informing me that my grandfather had passed away. I was in my third year of service as a direct contractor to the Army and my duty station was in Iraq. More specifically, I was at Tallil AFB near the city of An Nasiriyah. I was granted an emergency leave so that I could go back to the US to be with my family so I stowed my gear, packed my duffel and made the long trip home. This was the first time I would make this trip, but I’m getting ahead of myself so let me back up a bit. You see, my grandfather had served in the Second World War, actually both of them had. They were brothers. PFC Eddie Kassab, the one I’m speaking about here, had survived WWII through some pretty tough odds, including being on the third wave of the Normandy invasion at D-Day where thousands had died during the beach head assault. His brother, SFC Joseph Kassab, who married my grandmother, was killed in that war, He was a bombardier and his plane was shot down during the Guadalcanal campaign. It wasn’t until 27 years later that the wreckage of the aircraft and remains were found and recovered. When Joseph died leaving behind his young wife and new born son, Eddie began looking after her, sending home money for her and the boy, my father. They wrote back and forth to eachother after the dissappearance of Joseph and when he returned to the US after the war they courted and were eventually married. Joseph was laid to rest with the rest of his flight crew in Arlington with full military honors. Eddie, who died much later in life, was also afforded a military service there. That was my first time being in Arlington National Cemetery, a place reserved for men and women who had served their country in a military capacity. It is difficult to describe just how immense and powerful that place is, the impact you have on your life just from standing on those grounds is indescribable. If I had to try I would say it’s a mixed feeling of Honor, pride, sorrow, and a profound sense of loneliness. There are row upon row of white marble markers spanning miles of emerald green grass and broad shade trees. The markers themselves are simple, nothing fancy, but the respect they command is beyond contestation. There are also wall vaults for those who were cremated, one of these would become Eddie’s final resting place. The US Army's honor guard performed his service, while a trumpeter played “Taps” and his flag was folded and presented on behalf of a grateful nation to my father who Eddie raised as his own son. In the distance a 21 gun salute was given by seven riflemen firing three shots each. It would be the only time in my life that I saw my father cry. We took the time after Eddie’s service to walk to Joseph’s grave marker as well, passing thousands of other markers and I found myself wondering how many of these people were forgotten by the years. How many of them left behind young children. Were they killed in combat? How many of them were laid to rest with a grave full of unfulfilled dreams? The sacrifices they made weighed heavily upon me. It was a feeling I would carry with me long after I had left that place.
Years had passed and I found myself still working in Iraq for the US Army, I was stationed at Camp Taji this time, on the edge of Sadr City, a real dust bowl. I was in my eighth year of service when I was again called to Garrison HQ, another emergency Red Cross message had come through informing me that my Father had passed away. It was December 29th 2010. For hours afterward it felt as if I had been punched in the gut. I called my Mom as soon as I could to make sure she was ok and to see if there was anything she needed before making arrangements for yet another emergency leave. I again stowed my gear, packed my duffel and headed out. Now, it’s only fair to give you an idea of whom I’m talking about here, my Father, Jan, had been a Navy man and had been stationed on submarines as well as destroyer class ships during the Vietnam War. He signed up for service when he was just 18 years old and when he left the Navy he went directly into the Maitland Fire Department in central Florida and stayed there for many years. Eventually he expanded his training becoming the 80th paramedic in the state as well as a certified rescue diver and instructor. More importantly, he was a great father who raised two boys as a father should and later in life, he was a pretty good drinking buddy. His teachings and advice have helped me through some of the toughest times in my life. It was because of his prior military service that he was also awarded full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery. There was a waiting list of about 8 weeks at the time because of the high volume of casualties from the wars in the Middle East so it wasn’t until February of 2011 that he was finally laid to rest. This time it was the US Navy’s honor guard who performed his service. I remember it well; they stood in their dress whites throughout the ceremony in the biting cold as the wind whipped by mercilessly.  The honor and discipline in these men was no less than awe inspiring and through my sadness I couldn’t help but feel an amazing sense of pride for who my father was during his life. We all stood as a trumpeter again played “Taps” to the folding of my Father’s flag which was presented to my Mom on behalf of a grateful nation after a 21 gun salute was ordered in the distance. My Father’s remains were also placed in a wall vault that became his final resting place; his marker being only about 20 feet from Eddie’s marker in the adjacent wall and even though it was freezing that day, we took a little extra time to visit Eddie and Joseph again. Walking the grounds of that place again awakened all the feelings I had felt the first time, probably even more so. Again, I have to tell you that words couldn’t accurately describe how that place makes you feel. The grass had turned brown by now but was still immaculately manicured, and the precision placement of the grave markers was flawless. There were thousands of names that dated all the way back to the American Civil War. I went also with my brother to pay my respects at the tomb of the Unknown Soldier. It was an impressive mausoleum that is guarded twenty four hours a day by the US Army’s horror guard.  After it was all said and done and we had left Arlington and met as a family, my Mom, my Brother and his family, myself and my family and some close friends to remember him for a while over some food and drinks, and though nobody seemed to really have any appetite we still stayed there for hours. That was the first time in eight years that I had seen my Brother and would be the last time I saw him alive, but that part comes later. Eventually we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways, each having a very long way to travel back home and I had to get ready to go back to Iraq, heavy hearted or not.
I had only been back in theater (that means deployment) for a few months when I was reassigned to Al Asad AB as my permanent duty station. It was a place in the middle of nowhere and was originally a Marine base but transferred to Army and Air Force some time in 2010. I had made some good friends there, settled in and finally started coming back to myself when I received a message from my brother’s wife asking me to call her, said it was important. Thinking back on it now, I remember feeling a little angry that she wouldn’t tell me on email. Internet I had in my room, but a phone…well I’m no general and I had already settled in for the night. It was about 21:30 hrs. (9:30 p.m.) on a night in late July so I got dressed and made the quarter mile walk to my office where I could use the phone, cursing under my breath the whole time. It took me about 20 minutes just to find my phone card in my cluttered desk drawer, but when  I finally did amongst more unsavory mutterings I made the call. She answered quickly enough but her voice sounded strained so I calmed down and asked her what was going on, I figured something wasn’t right so she didn’t need me jumping her case on top of it. It was then that she told me my Brother’s body had been found in his home in Whiteville NC. He had been having a hard time with depression since our Father passed as well as marital problems and he had made the decision to take his own life at the age of 36 leaving behind his Wife, Stepson and Daughter who was only 5 at the time. I was blindsided to say the least, no one saw this coming, and he left no real reason as to why so there still is no closure, no understanding. I was angry… no, I was furious! But I’m getting ahead of myself again. She had called me not only to inform me of what had happened, but also to ask if I had Mom’s phone number because she didn’t have it and didn’t know how to get in touch with her to tell her. I told her not to worry about it and that I’d take that on my shoulders and get back to her. It had only been five months since we laid our Father to rest and to say I dreaded making that phone call was a ridiculous understatement. It was easily one of the toughest things I ever had to do, but it had to be done all the same so I dug Mom’s number out of my wallet…and stared at it…I don’t know how long but it felt like a long time. What else could I do? What could I say? It’s not like I had an instruction booklet for delivering bad news and this was as bad as it gets. After a few deep breaths I dialed her number and decided to take the direct approach. She answered the phone and we exchanged hellos, and I asked her what she was doing. She was out shopping with Robbie at the Tractor Supply Co. He was a longtime family friend and all around good guy. I told her that I had some pretty bad news and asked if she could find a place to sit down there, but she told me it was ok to just tell her what happened so I did exactly that. I gave her all the information I had at the time, I didn’t know how to sugar coat it so I didn’t. She took it pretty well up front, not breaking down until later that evening. My Brother, SPC Troy Kassab, had enlisted in the US Army with our Father’s permission when he was only 17 years old. He was a combat medic assigned to Ft. Carson in Colorado before transferring to the 82nd Airborne Division in Ft Brag NC. He deployed to Cuba among other deployments overseas before being attached to a Ranger Unit as their medic and doing other deployments that he never would talk about much. After the army he lived in NC where he worked in restaurants while attending school on the G.I bill and volunteering on the Hickory Rescue Squad as an EMT. He eventually completed school in Winston Salem NC where he got his PA degree in general practice. Troy was a self-educated, brilliant man who wasn’t perfect but who is? He saved lives in the Army, and then continued to do so in the civilian world until his death in July of 2011. He was a husband and a father, a brother and a friend. He was important to us. It was because of his past in the Army that he also was awarded full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery. This time the wait was much longer and his funeral wasn’t held until November 15th of 2011. I remember that day and the days leading up to it like it was yesterday. I had ended my deployment in Iraq on November 3rd, making it back to the US on November 6th. From the time of his death I had stayed in contact with Mom and his wife Andi to make sure they were ok and help in any way I could with the affairs and expenses. When I finally did get home I pulled my truck out of storage had it inspected, fueled and ready to go. It was unfortunate, but my wife was in college and had work at the time so she couldn’t come with us so my daughter and I made the long trip from Houston TX to Hickory NC to see Troy’s wife and kids. While I was there I also picked up a close family friend of ours who needed a ride and made the long drive to Arlington VA...again. The US Army’s honor guard met us there to perform his service and again the attention to detail, the respect given to the deceased, and the discipline shown was flawless. There were more friends this time than family in attendance but I was there with Mom, Robbie, my daughter, and some very close family friends, some going all the way back to our childhood. The ceremony was the same, every time the same. I remember thinking I hated the way “Taps” sounded as they folded the flag and I was angry and hurt when I stepped forward to claim my Brother’s remains and walk them to the wall vault that would become his final resting place. I have to say though, that through my grief and anger, I was a little bit pleased to see that he was placed so close to my Father and Grandfather. I left a pair of my own dog tags in his vault, it made me feel better that he wouldn’t be alone in there. I guess it doesn’t make a lot of sense now but at the time it did.  I stood over his marker and said a silent prayer before heading out to see Dad, Eddie and Joe’s markers and pay some respects. The grass was that brilliant emerald green again, and the sense that I stood in a place of honor reserved for our nations fallen still struck me through the heart.  After that we just kind of faded away from that place making our way home. Troy’s wife Andi had decided not to come, she was angry, she felt betrayed and abandoned, so on my way home I stopped back in Hickory NC, dropped off Michelle and made the drive to Andi’s house to present her with Troy’s flag as it had been presented to me. I remember hoping that her decision wouldn’t leave her with later regrets, but it was too late to change it now. The drive home was a long one, one that rekindled so many unanswered questions. Three generations of my family laid to rest leaving me as the only surviving male member of my family; something that still weighs upon my heart today.
But this is their story, and though it seems a sad one, that is not its intent. This story was written so that you the reader could understand that there is a place where over a hundred thousand Josephs and Eddies, and Jans and Troys are resting.  Each one of those stone crosses and stars have a face, a name, a history, and they made a sacrifice for you and for me. They were people who gave up their futures so that we could have one. They were people who had dreams, families, and who put all of that aside for what they believed in. They weren’t perfect people, but they deserve to be remembered. If you do nothing else after reading this, at least take the time to think about the freedoms that you have, freedoms that have cost us so much…
There are those who came before us, who paved the way for the lives we now live, their voices whisper to us through our freedoms and we are a greatful nation. Listen and remember...
Oliveri Oct 2014
You may call it hard work
They may say it's torture
But everything else is an understatement
Except  soul ****
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2018


I truly wish I could have a caged
heart at times
I've gone through so many years, listening...
To it yelling
To it screaming
To it shrieking
To it roaring
To it cursing
To it crying
To it dying
But most of all, to it lying.
All so I don't suffer the bitter
and harsh truth

And what better way to cope
than with a heart that whispers
and weaves a grand tapestry of lies

But those threads spun are, in
fact, gossamer

There's always a heaviness with
lovely lies, lies that I have trained
my mind to believe
my nails dug deep out of nothing
but desperation

Hearts are wild by nature, by design
How that's just a mere understatement

There is nor will there ever be
a tame heart
As cliche as it sounds, it wants what it wants,
and would do all it can to get it
It will slip through the ribs,
be out of its cage only to come
back with a twisted knife sheathed into it

and I
I
must bear the pain
There's only so much I can listen to...
To put a end to the poisonous whispers
that were so seductive, that made me feel secure...

And now I struck a deal
Shaking hands with the power of my mind
and ***** my heart with the Sleeping
needle

So I can work for my own happiness,
for my dream of stability

When I have that in hand,
with the help of the mind,
I will wake up my heart

and truly set it free...


Listening to your heart is hard at times.
Your mind tells you one thing, the heart says another
and ends up doing something so **** impulsive.
Ugh..

Anyway, thank you so so much for 223 followers!
I'm truly grateful! ^^
Lyn ***
kclantern Apr 2017
to say I am my own
is a misunderstanding.
I am not my own.
I have no business living in my body.

every so often
a soul enters and departs
slipping and evaporating like clouds
and hazy veils of smoke.

the souls tell me who they were
and what they weren't.
I can no longer help them
since their time is up.

no wonder people ask
"what are you thinking about?"
for souls pass through me like doors
and gates left cracked ajar.

to say I am not myself
is an understatement.
I am emptied.
I hold weary travelers as if they were my own.
Amber S Oct 2013
He was angry because the boy with glasses and a gamer shirt had told me he wished he had a girl like me.
It’s not you, it’s me. And the fish bowl that was twice the size of your head.
Punching the wall, I knew
jealousy was a
understatement.
it crawls under your bed and waits until it is four in the morning and you have nothing left
Except tears and yearning for something different,
yet you know you cannot have anything different,
because the thought of mornings without him,
and the thought of phone calls absent of his vocals
makes you want to rip open your ribs until you color his
freckles.
He was angry because he was threatened,
and it was so stupid, so animalistic.
I am not territory, not a tree you lift your leg to mark on.
I am a human, a human, a human, I just want to be
loved.
the door broken, his lips bleeding,
he kissed me until I thawed.
his shoulders shook as he cried and cried and cried,
please be mine, please be mine, please be mine.
jealousy is what we romanticize about,
yet it is the monster we will
become.
Kush May 2016
I remember a time long ago
When each person carried emotional baggage in tow
We held friend and family member equally dear
Kissed every cheek and wiped away every tear
Now we lie cruel and rotting under the sun
Devoid of any sparks or pangs of fun
We’ve forgotten our righteous ways
Seek therapy from bad decisions and ashtrays
All sense of the common good is delivered through slow reactions
Overshadowed by emerald greed and ***-soaked distractions
I’ve tried to convince my children of the change
They just look at me as an old dog ripe with mange
To all my loved ones who have died
I can at least mutter "I tried"
I suppose it’s about time to scrape hope up and wash it down the drain
Sit out on my porch, feet propped up, watching society fall like rain
Brenda Mukisa Aug 2017
In you oh God
I put my trust.
You have been sooo good to me.
I'd never know how to say thank you.
You have brought me so far.
Yet grateful is still an understatement.
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
F- For being faithful like a forbidden fruit truthful
R- Ruler of fruit so passionately about his love bite
U- Understatement how she layered her
salad love ingredients
Google it
Utmost website take a bite
I- Included in everything We know it the poets
Ring coming like diamond my fruit of the crop
T- Timing, Fruit for thought rhyming tremendous
but tedious fruit-salad love

I- Truly   

S- Strawberries lips of cherries falling from the tree.
Feeling free Robin bob bobbin along loves strawberry pie
A- For such ambiance, Miss Ambrosia
such allure "Pink lady" apple smiles so
animated graphic artist so cool and waves shore
L- For Living eating in good health breathing
the fresh air Earth Baby Bella green lettuce.
Lacy Length of her wedding bodice spiritual rice
he promised her hand in fruit bountiful marriage
A- For a party of love fruit masquerade party
Connoisseur of fruit smarty oranges
vibrant animation fruit forever apples,
I tune's of apples
D- Divine dressed up with layers
of fruit salad
Devilish eggs toppings designs of
dandelions daisies, fusion
with fruit crazies

D-  Digging exploring forbidden fruit
Cranking up the Cranberries
I am dreaming the Blueberries
No Sir, not your Monday blues
Dow Jones way up I Apple phones?
R- Rev it up Robin Recharge, rambling
lucky reds fruits
Italian the lovers of red wine and a salad
avocado smashing up her Money green
Eldorado entering her fruit palace

                      She rules

E- Energy vitamin E for exceptional inviting
fruit salad with everything piling
Elderberry Evergreens Huckleberry
S- Symmetry art salad Palm of hearts
Fruit season
love storm style sophisticated a poem with
the style you're sure to smile
S- Autumn leaves falling on the
sleeves crabapples
Silver smooth skin Kiwifruit sour cherry on the
          " SILKY"
Dogwood in the Sierra Juniper
E- Enlightening some enchanting evening
how his love fruit fell from the tree
His fruit for the soul so enthusiastic you loved
to entertain this is love fusion nothing simple
I am not one to complain

D- Dressed to the fruit nines perfect 10 salad
Mad Alice in Wonderland hair so much hair
obsessions love of fruit blueberries and
she's a bit sour cream
with daisies and dandelion teas all,
please and what else is another
fruit of a pain
To remain in silence but that burst of flavor
is like science fusion of soulful rain

F- food for thought furry but fireplace hot
love frenzy comfort foods A la carte frosting
"Buttercream" food pleasant dream
The freshly brewed coffee I never heard of
fruit your in luck
Blueberry coffee homemade Moms
I  girl scout you brownies and
Saltwater sea fruity buns of a breeze

U- Unique how you utilize passion-fruit
prize music
fruity Pop blend fires out up-tempo
your feeling unbaked
Not the right ingredients of love fruit cake

S- Serendipity New York City the
fruit never sleeps fruit stands love for
keeps or Dorothy surrender spices
of Sage Superfood salads

I- Yes we have bananas wearing paisley
bandanas fruit is ripe to improve a love
how it's written
Inkwell an index of fruit swell

O- Out worked outlived on time for only
fruit about the abundance of love
So soothing the fruit tunes of his music
Overjoyed Silk Organza

N- Gift of fruit not like any other day
Neighborly of kindness just dress
Organza Gown of fruit
So naturally spoken love so near Fruit salad he left a notorious love tear.
This is a fruit all numbered to our soul now we must be focused on only fruit I have ways to make you into a salad
Marisol Quiroz Aug 2018
how fitting, i thought,
that it rained the day you left.
a torrential downpour
took away all my breath.
but as quick as it came it left
and the rain ceased to be
and i was left in the dark of my car
just the sound of the road beneath me.

— to say i miss you would be an understatement
Wanderer Oct 2014
Vines of apathy stunt the growth of many
Listlessly moving through their day
Burdened by our way of surviving
Cold, without empathy

Where has our compassion gone?
Things cannot console you when you need a warm touch
A hand to hold
A sympathetic ear

We, all of us, are made of star dust
Cosmic stuff
Coursing through Big Bang engineered veins
Yet fluoride calcifies our connection with that energy
Pineal gland silent, radio waves dead

Nature is in harmony, was
Until us
Now she has lung cancer, poisoned waters
Fields of dust that go on for miles and miles

What have we done?

Clean energy, Eco-friendly products
THE KNOWLEDGE TO GROW OUR OWN FOOD
Is at our fingertips
Big Corporate wants you to stay dumb, numb and greedy
Feeding their insatiable need for more with your own


If you look closely, real close
Starting with your own actions and priorities
You will find that what once was a co-habitation with us in the mix of this great planet
*Is now us at the top, alone
Research your pineal gland. Learn how to garden. Take up a hobby that heals your soul and helps others.

— The End —