Veterans Day / Memorial Day Poem #242

Untitled

The shrapnel hums a deadly song that sounds like a crazy boomerang that won t
return home. I try to make my body small my hands clasped over my head to
protect my ears and neck. Hot waves of concussion...

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Do you have original thoughts and find reason to everything?
Do you multi task like most breathe innately following your intuition?
Do you drive people mad with your constant ideas?
Is everything a puzzle you solve not from the edges, but visually
while your mind works?
Are you a Genius compelled to change the world and move people, is
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Veterans Day / Memorial Day Poem #241

Empty Boots

There they stand
All muddy, covered with grime.
They once were polished;
Like the man.
The bloodstains all blackened
With time.
Proudly they marched
In every parade.
They slogged in the mire
Of war s long charade.
Now they are empty.
The owner is gone
To that heavenly place
Where brave soldiers belong.

Written from the heart by Esther B. Campbell Gates
Gold Star Mom of Sp/4 Keith Allen Campbell

Relaxation is a classy story gone short,
With never ending excuses rebutting hard
Shells over cracked lobsters.

Butter rocks the meal, either to digest it or to throw it up.

Coming up short just to cheat back ups; while karma
Rotates tables into mouses losing cheese.

Nimble palms smile like trite bibs protecting burps,
Hoping chokes' give way and air wins toothpicks.

Angelic Davila and Jared K. Harvey

There are things I'll never understand and pictures
I'll gasp from.

I do what must be done, you'll have regrets in the morning
about this situation and how I can handle things a little better
when drunk.

It's because I've been alone for so long and put through the
footprint of repeated mistakes.

It's because no matter how much I think it will change, it won't.

It's because no matter how much I do, nothing will matter and
I'll always be stuck cleaning up the dribble of the next dying
person.

There are things that I didn't ask for but received, and a love
that was only a childhood hope and a lost memory.

Some have to bleed for a pat on the back, while the rest of the
crowd buys the drinks for a moment of bravado and the water-
cooler talk of who fucked who.

j.k.

I come with all these things that are intangible
To you, a secondary better.

It isn't me that you want to normalize those deaf ears
reiterating totality over surface;

Experiencing those moments that have taken tabs
Off my life.

I am pretty when I mean to be ugly as you want
The motif to adorn a theoretical house,

Extending burns and withdrawing gazes.

You cater thoughts and eat guilt over inhibited
Objects dependent upon our chemically assisted love.

Pain overwrites the roots supporting dirt into
Conversations ringing behavior as my medicine,

Kissing my loss and talking gravel.

Smooth as a condom.

Angelic Davila

War-era poets share experiences
http://www.thestar.com/GTA/Columnist/article/425977

{EXCERPT} Toronto Star, Canada Crossing Lines: Poets Who Came To Canada in the
Vietnam War Era; Seraphim Editions. Joe Fiorito usually appears Monday,
Wednesday and Friday....

http://www.thestar.com/GTA/Columnist/article/425977

Poetry Discussion/News/Info Exchange Forum
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/military-veteran-wartime-poetry

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Veterans Day / Memorial Day Poem #244

Deployment

an unspoken word,
that is repeated in my head.
My heart aches.
mind wanders.
"what is he doing now?"

training.
I must be strong.
he is.
I smile.
laugh.
No tears for now.
treasure every moment.

every kiss. hug. look. touch.
EVERYTHING.
Trust.
Don't be scared.