Die each year,
A little more.
So many years,
Can’t get away.
Napalm drops,
Flesh ripped,
Children burn,
Cadavers smile,
Darkness comes
Starlight burns,
Shrapnel frags,
Ghouls scream,
Bodies stacked,
Obscene smirk.
Each day,
A wound,
No remains,
Shallow man,
Fixed stare,
Lacking love,
No emotion,
Why live this,
Just to die?
Deadly sleep,
Never wake.
No dreams,
Or screams,
No emptiness.
Let me die,
The KIA
I truly am,
01-30-1968
Posts
2 comments:
I just started my space and i was looking for the other people profiles and found a match with you about the Dalton Trumbo's Johnny got his gun. I supposed nobody remember this book today and got surprised to find you! Its a very special book for me, cos it opened my mind to see the war from within and the dimension of its damages. Congrats for your blog. Keep fighting.
Thanks to both for your kind words. Tet 1968 was the bleakest of all times for me. It's haunted me for all these years. For years I felt Vietnam a curse and it is in so many ways but it's also been a blessing that I failed to understand for a long time. That blessing is my participation in the atrocity of war has led me to work for peace and justice ever since 1968.
Mona, you're always welcome to post any of your thought provoking poetry or words. I'm so jealous of the vivid way you can pack so much into so few words.
Gunther...yeah very few folks know of Dalton Trumbo and his masterpiece which should be required reading in high school before the recruiters can talk to the kids.
Peace to you both.
Terry
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