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 Posted: Sun Apr 13, 2008 9:31 am
“Deep Six” 39 lines
Deep Six
Deep six the Charlie, that was their mission.
Keep them all alive, now that was yours.
With M-16’s in hand and silver gleams
Around their necks, you dropped down into hell
With nothing but the heavens at your back.
Before the earth greets you, the bullets flew,
Brave men and their Angel Flares fell too soon.
You glided helplessly and knew there was
Nothing you could do, but watch the ground rush
Up at you prayin’ it would be over soon.
Touch down! You hit the hot-zone running fast,
Your first assignment crumpled by the path.
Blood soaked, gut exposed - he’s heading to God,
He’s your first patient and Charlie’s first FOD.
The next is no better, the third or fourth,
Its chaos and screams, Au-rahs! and Di-maus!
The death threats enforced with bullets and Bandits,
The frags exploding, the Beach-Line abandoned.
They were pushing you back, treat or retreat?
These wounded couldn’t move even a few feet.
Charlie were rounding, your sixth nearly gone,
It’s now or never, haul a** or hold on.
You’re all they have, without you they’re alone.
All eyes on you, the dead and the dying,
Your brain raging fast your heart still crying.
Five dog tags in hand of men you had known,
Five more to be collected…plus your own.
No Dust Off this time; their lives were your strife,
You knew it meant ‘86ing your life.
Life? What Life? You gave that to Uncle Sam,
Now you’re the Doc, you’re a company man.
You were the first and last Squid standing, Doc,
A Sailor in a platoon full of Marines.
You kept on firing, fought off shell shock,
Jarhead as any right down to the seams.
To you Doc, who live on in this legend,
This Leatherneck salutes you and thanks you.
They found my tags ‘cause you never let go,
I’m not on The Wall ‘cause you willed it so.
Dedicated to:
Estes, Michael A.
USN Christian
Serial #
O Positive
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Posted: Sun Apr 13, 2008 9:33 am
“The Real Truth of the Job” 18 lines
The Real Truth of the Job
I was always told the Nurse was a lifesaver,
A miracle worker,
A God-sent.
I was always told her job meant to heal the ill,
To mend all the broken,
To smile.
It was later I discovered the truth of it,
Not all lives can be saved,
Smiles fade.
When a young life was broken beyond repairing,
A nurse forced from saving
That poor soul,
She wept and I could not understand why she stopped
The resuscitations,
I wept too.
She then turned to me and said these words with trembling lips,
The real truth of the job,
“D.N.R.”
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Posted: Sun Apr 13, 2008 9:34 am
“Doodles From a Notebook” 9 lines
Doodles From a Notebook
As the graceful line is drawn,
The curve caressing inch by inch of canvas,
The marriage of black blood and white skin begin.
Each drop of pen life bleeds through its lover,
Marking the skin of the clone beneath,
Indenting each mark of love upon the next.
During this matrimony of love and finality,
An image is born…a creation conceived.
Thus is the birth…of art.
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Posted: Sun Apr 13, 2008 9:36 am
“What Feels” 47 lines
What Feels
Time to move once again,
The packing, unpacking, and tossing of memories.
Not everything will fit in the truck,
Some things must go.
As I clean the dark recesses of my attic,
The dust and cobwebs so vast in infestation,
I come across a cardboard box of forgotten time.
It is ordinary and alone but beckoning my curiosity.
Like a coroner with her scalpel,
My nail slits the flesh of the thin tape.
I feel no remorse for the deed; it was in my way,
Besides it is an inanimate thing with no feelings at all.
Upon prying the aged skin asunder,
Forcing the barrier to reveal its secrets to me,
My eyes behold more relics of ordinary memories.
Disappointed, and annoyed,
However, unwilling to go without investigating my prize.
The first is a black notebook, torn and well used,
My fingers lingering on the familiar, yet strangeness of it.
Opening the folds reveal to me a secret world,
A past life,
A treasured yet forgotten realm.
My pictures,
My doodles,
The characters of my mind
And the avatars of my imagination.
All locked in unfinished battles,
Interacting with elements beyond my reach,
Embracing people I could never hold.
Secrets I once shared and am no longer worth of.
My eyes mist as each beloved and forgotten page turns,
Each figure trapped in never ending moments of joy,
Eternal instances of conflict,
Endless periods of sorrow.
And I created them,
I created them all.
As I closed the book,
Whipped my tears,
And breathed in the scents of forgotten memories,
I stop.
I lovingly return the epitaph of my youth,
I gently lay the folds of to casket in place.
A new layer of sealant heals my desecration
Before I begin the precession of moving the forgotten
To their new resting place.
My home.
My new home.
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Posted: Mon Apr 14, 2008 4:57 am
“To the Author of Creations” lines: 130
To the Author of Creations
Here I stand,
The gaping abyss of inevitability before me,
Its mouth gently curved in macabre welcome.
I need only to brave this last trial
To end the savage chaos
That You created in this world.
You, who proclaim yourself the supreme deity,
You, who dictated the fate of my comrades and of my enemies,
You, who spawned entities of thousands,
With just a single thought.
You created me, my beginning,
That which was at one time
Vivid and pure like the North Star, Polaris,
Is now a corrupted shade of sable,
Stained with the contaminated blood of countless…beings,
Not far from myself in structure or design.
We are the pawns of Your contorted mind,
Your sick imagination,
And Your god-like whims.
We are all slaves in Your grand design,
Much like the lowly gladiators before the great Caesar.
My role in this world was to challenge The Fates,
To free my beloved people from destiny’s oppression,
And to bring hope back to a land devoid of peace.
Yet, even as I raise my sword before the Three Wicked Sisters,
I cannot slay the greatest puppet master of them all…
You.
It was You who created this gruesome tale,
Who pitted brother against brother
For the sake of Your wicked amusement,
Who created tragedy and hate to enthrall other gods like yourself!
You are no god of mercy or divine justice.
You are only a tyrant of drama and death,
Who wields the greatest weapon of all,
A weapon that determines my fate…
Parchment and ink.
My legs propel me onward
With each letter that You write,
In this book that tells of my rise and fall.
With each step
You bring me closer to the yawning jaws of hell.
I can feel it.
I can feel the fires of Hades lick my face like a sultry temptress,
As a woman who has an insatiable hunger,
But You have made me too virtuous to feel more than the burn.
Each stroke…
Each step…
The end of one more chapter…
And the beginning of my end.
Can You really send a noble warrior of Your own creation
To his death without a moment’s pause?
You have written it so that I will have hope of coming out alive,
But I know I will not.
You know I will not.
I grin at my own folly.
This is merely to keep the other gods in suspense.
I should have known.
The last step is taken
Behold!
The throne room of The Fates.
Behold!
The stronghold where the “evil” of this world
Has controlled and ruined the lives of those above.
…Only You and I know the truth…
The Fates are as powerless as I.
The ailments of this world are only of Your doing.
The battle is a well-scripted dance.
The dialogue is a perfect conclusion to the end of a journey,
Of my journey.
A journey of happiness, companionship, and ignorance,
That led my long since fallen comrades and I
Into the depths of purgatory
With only the bitter knowledge
That this is how You wanted it to end.
Just more martyrs to add to Your list of the dead.
The battle is drawn out
With taunts, curses, and weapons flying through the air.
You sow the words of fatigue into my body.
My arms are like lead and become another burden.
My legs become weak and feeble,
Barely able to continue in this fight.
My muscles are straining to keep me standing,
My wounds expand further,
And the warm blood trickles down my body.
I watch it,
My very life draining away.
The magic is spent,
Breathing becomes a labor and stops short.
It cannot be the end,
You cannot be finished.
Wait,
What’s this?
A miracle in the form of a heroic last stand!
With nothing left of my strength but my soul,
I subdue the embodiments of “evil” and drive them into the eternal void
With not but my final sacrifice as leverage.
The victory is won,
My comrades avenged,
The world is at peace again,
And all for the cost of one…life…
Mine.
You tell the other gods
That my last thoughts are of peace,
Fulfillment,
Serenity,
That it was an honor to have died in battle,
And lived a life without regret.
But it is all a lie.
A vicious lie
That began when you wrote that
That my victory is won.
Fool.
Ignorant fool.
It can never be won.
My sacrifice will never spare those to come after me.
You will create more evil, more enemies,
And You will create others to replace me,
To follow in my hollow footsteps,
To feel my pains, my joys, my sorrows,
Until they are crushed like a leaf underfoot,
To serve Your purposes.
The pages are turning.
You’ve moved on now with Your story.
But I am still here.
Lying on the blood soaked floor of my last battlefield,
Where I will be for eternity
Until someone else begins my story anew.
Whenever another god wants to relive the trials of my life,
They need just to see the forgotten pages
That are forever bound in this book.
The only proof of my existence.
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