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ON THE FLIGHT TO SOUTH VIETNAM
A young poet
goes to war
laughing at the uniform
he now wears,
and
cries
because
he must.
Not totally aware
of why,
He goes
because
it is his duty
and
tries to understand
and
cries
because
he cannot!
#
October, 1966
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ON LEAVE BEFORE GOING TO WAR
Standing alone with others
on Telegraph Hill
I searched the incoming fog
for answers.
I could find none.
The lights of the city below
burned through the darkness.
I could hear the mute sounds
of people around me.
Some may have been lovers,
Perhaps, having to say good-bye.
Others may have been voices
of angels chanting prayers for peace
in the foggy mist.
I saw myself
like that lonely fog,
That hugs the city for it’s very life,
hoping that some
future wind doesn’t blow it away
before it can fully taste life.
This is my city.
My home.
My place of birth.
This is where I began my journey.
This is where I will begin a new one.
I have felt this city breathe
and I’ve known her cries
as she bid farewell to countless
departing war ships,
each filled with young virgin warriors
venturing off to some distant war-stained shore
to meet themselves and their fate
on some battleground graveyard.
I love this damned city
filled with so many lost souls, suicides, broken dreams,
and lonely poets
who hate to say good-bye.
#
October, 1966 - San Francisco, California
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I AM OFF TO WAR, MY GENTLE
CAROL
Gentle Carol.
Your soft voice
still murmurs within my memories.
Your image
hangs onto the very corners
of this young warriors heart.
I can feel traces of my heart
leaving wet rivers
down my manly cheeks.
Gentle Carol,
must I go?
Must I be taken away
like a fallen leaf
in the cold fall wind?
How far
is a long time?
How many moments
must pass?
Will tomorrow still
be waiting for us?
Gentle Carol,
How many leaves must fall?
How many cold winds
will chill the air?
Will you still be there
and
will I still be
your young warrior poet?
#
October, 1966 - San Francisco, California
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I WANTED THE WORLD
I wanted to travel
When I was just a child.
I wanted to reach out
Across seas, skies, green valleys,
Climb tall mountains,
Walk crowded city streets
filled with beautiful young maidens
Who lived only on poetry and oranges.
I wanted to touch
Souls of people
Who were not like me.
I wanted to see and be in places
That were foreign to my young being.
I wanted to live in places
That I only saw and felt in dreamland.
I wanted to taste foods and life
As it was experienced someplace else.
I wanted to hold
Snowflakes from Himalayan mountain tops
On my tongue
And dance naked across virgin beaches
on some uncharted island.
I wanted the world
When I was just a child.
I wanted to find
Some enlightened poet
Who could show me
How to find the rainbows end.
I wanted to understand why, and how,
And find that truth
That laid hidden
Under layers of forgotten karma
And other lost dreams.
I wanted so much
When I was just a child.
I wanted the world
Back then,
But now,
All I want is you
And me!
#
October, 1966 - Berkeley, California
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SECRET SUN
Secret sun
Flashing innocent smiles
Across your bare skin
And veiled eyes
I whisper
In the darkness
And stare quietly
At your modest
Warm body
Touching mine
Tomorrow we’ll go
To the beach
And run naked
Across the sand
While the sea
Stares quietly
At your modest
Warm body
Touching mine.
#
Originally written 1966 – revised July, 1998
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LONELY IS A RESERVOIR
Lonely is a reservoir
Of bad times
And people
I’ve cried sometimes
Watching the dawn
Break across
Future graveyards
It’s funny how thoughts
Seem so loud.
Pounding away at our insides
With memories beyond
Obituary-dreams
And suicide –smiles
I look around me,
at all the young faces,
with thousand year old eyes,
Reflecting only the mute
Sadness of the morning light.
And we stand there
Waiting
For the battles to begin,
Not knowing
Or being able
To taste tomorrow’s joys.
#
December, 1966 - Somewhere in War Zone D - South Vietnam
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