I remember the day
that Washington burned,
And the bloody bits of JFK
still floating in
that Cuban bay
Hey, Hey, LBJ,
How many Kids
Did you Kill today?
Well, what can I say?
I wasn’t there to count ’em.
Napalm and Vietnam,
and a broken Saigon
and Viet-cahn,
Now President Saddam
and a Hydrogen bomb;
War.
What is it good for?
Look down and be reminded by your stumps
that you Can’t
Stand Up for your rights,
You left your legs in Afghanistan,
Just like your Dad left His in Iran!
Wheres the Taliban? There they are!
In the twisted scalding nails
And bits of metal in my Entrails!
In the desecrated monuments
And in the Veiled Females!
The Enemy is in my Head,
And if I shoot him Now,
He will be Dead.
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What am I waiting for
if the only thing I have left
is this empty
Screaming
Fucking head?
What am I waiting for
when the very Land
on which I stand
is Dead
And my thoughts and ideas
have all been Bled?
What am I waiting for
when the Ghosts are closing in
and my bleating Heart has fled?
My Mind has Become
an Animal you see,
One I Fear
and It
Fears Me
Give me a Hold
in this sharp and
cold
wall of Rocks,
something that I can grip
and not
Cut Bleed or Slip
for the Fall
is far
into that
Petrifying Mist
and there is No
Coming back
from that black
Abyss.
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What’s the deal
with how you feel
For those who can’t see
below the knee
Finding something
which I’ve found
buried deep beneath the ground
So come alive
and don’t be dead
Find the notion
Within your head.
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Leave a comment | tags: alive, buried, dead, deal, deep, feel, found, ground, head, inside, knee, notion, original poetry, originalpoetry.org, Poem, poetry, reach, reach inside, see, something | posted in Uncategorized
The Elegant Eaglet flies far far above the horizon
So young so bold yet so naive
I stand with my menacing German Mauser firearm on a small cliff, crouched to avoid detection
So Stealthy so powerful yet so vulnerable
The Eaglet swoops, her beautiful movement like that of an exotic dancer in a dimlit club on a friday night
So sensual so entrancing yet so innocent
I sit in a prone position in my camoflauge with my merchant of death weapon in hand
So cladestine so strong yet so weak
The Eaglet slows up and passes me at an angle of elevation of 30 degrees
So slow so smooth yet so fast
I pull the trigger of my rifle and the bird falls out of the air to the ground
So dead so dead yet never more so alive.
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Leave a comment | tags: air, alive, and, beautiful, camoflauge, club, dancer, dead, detection, eaglet, elegant, elevation, entrancing, exotic, fast, firearm, friday, ground, guy, horizon, hunts, innocent, man, mauser, menacing, naive, poetry, rifle, sensual, smooth, strong, swoops, the, vulnerable, weak, weapon, who | posted in Uncategorized
Original Poetry 