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EMPTY POCKETS
It takes
A long time
For one man
To walk alone
Putting
Yesterday-dreams
Into empty pockets.
Yet,
In the mourning-eyes
Of dawn
The earth hugging mist
Seems
To hang on
So desperately,
Seeking
The warmth
Of the womb.
And so
Must
I.
#
April, 1967
- South Vietnam
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JUST ANOTHER
WHOREHOUSE – SOUTH VIETNAM
The smell of burning grass,
And dirty GIs
Drifted from the doorway
As I walked past.
The door was open
So I looked in and listened
As they sang their own version
Of the blues
To anyone who would listen.
But no one else cared.
They all had their own songs within.
A few young maidens
Pretended to care,
but they were being paid
For their understanding.
The fig leafs were crying
As ex-virgin daughters and mothers
Hung lust where it hurt
For joy!
This was not it, and we knew it.
But it had been too long,
In death filled jungles.
And drunker we got
The better it all seemed.
"GI – buy me Saigon Tea"
She smiled
and took my hand.
I followed.
Too drunk to care,
And just lonely enough
To be on the edge of tears.
After all,
This was my twenty-first birthday.
I just always thought
It would be more fun.
#
March 16, 1967 - Phu Loi, South Vietnam
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GOOD GUYS ALWAYS WIN –
RIGHT?
We were all so young
Just sitting around
Getting older
And drunker
By the minute.
Telling tales
Of young warriors
And of close calls
With dying.
We spoke of killing
And death
As if discussing
Yesterday’s football game.
Tomorrow
would come again
Soon enough
And we would face
Death once again
However,
In the drunkenness
of our youth,
We believed
That the good guys
always won!
And we would
See home again
And all things
Would be the same
As before
our "tour of duty"
#
April, 1967 - On some hilltop in South Vietnam
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BLACK BROTHER
Black brother
Disfigured
And raped
Grotesque
By the vulgar
Aftermath
Of
An exploding
Landmine.
I watched,
As convulsions,
Rendered
That once proud body,
Helpless
Like a infant.
Until
My tears
And your blood
Joined
And became
A river
Of one!
#
August, 1967 - South Vietnam
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NATIONAL ANTHEM CEMETERIES
Sitting in my helicopter
With child warriors
Waiting
For us to fly
Them to hell.
Theirs were the
nervous eyes
Of youth about
To kill
And be killed.
So
You averted looking directly
at their eyes
(That last graveyard
for their fears)
One wonders
What dreams
Will be left
undreamed tonight?
Or what mother
Will have to mourn
What this day
we have done?
No one asks.
And we sit there
Waiting
Perhaps, a lifetime.
While kings and generals
Plot and blunder
Our future
In vivid color
Across
Our national anthem cemeteries!
#
June 14, 1967 - The Iron Triangle, South Vietnam
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