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EnTREES
The Trees are legion,
in the place I call home.
They never move
from place to place.
They,
are a silent race
that lives and dies
in just one place.
They stand
strong,
and tall,
...remembering all.
...and they welcome soldiers
coming home.
They are the tall soldiers of the sky.
Faces dressed in green.
.........Dreamers!
Shapeshifters,
... who love
both Sun
and Moon, and boys who climbed their branches
as children.
The Trees are Legion
in this place...
that I
...call home.
İCALIBER
May 17 2003...(Armed Forces Day)
 : For Diane....(inspired by Stacey Jones...BPJ)
IF I HAD A GRANDCHILD
THAT LOOKED LIKE YOU
I WOULD SIT HER ON MY KNEE
AND TELL HER A BIT ABOUT
ME...AND YOU
WOULD JUST GIVE HER THAT OLD 'BUSHHAT'
AND LAUGH WITH HER
AND TOUCH....
JUST TOUCH ALL THE DARKEYED HAPPINESS
THAT WE COULD SHARE
I WOULD HOLD HER
CLOSE
AND TELL HER OF LIBERTY
THE MEN OF PENNSYLVANIA
YOUR FAMILY WHO DIED FOR LIBERTY
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....AND THE STORY OF THE FOUR RACES OF AMERICA
THAT FREE MEN HAVE THE SAME FACES
THAT IT IS ALWAYS, AND ONLY
LOVE
THAT WIPES THE BLOOD OF WAR FROM OUR OLD FACES
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AND LATE AT NIGHT
WHEN SHE IS TIRED
I WILL PLACE ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD
BESIDE HER
TUCK THE DREAM IN BESIDE HER
I WILL WISH HER DREAMS OF PEACE
...AND HOME
SEE YOUR FACE
SMILING UPON MY VISION
OF HER FACE
AS I KISS HER GOODNIGHT
I SHALL KISS HER GOODNIGHT
TURN DOWN THE LIGHTS...
THEN
PRAY AGAIN
....AND THANK GOD FOR THIS HOME WITH YOU
MY LOVE
THIS HOME
...WITH YOU.
İCAL
2003
 Todays Military and ...US!
How proud I am
of them who come home from Iraq
and tell me
yes!
It is not color
of skin
or country
of origin...
IT is JUST
HERE in the Goddam' good ol' USA
We ...the goddam' free
can play with our children
and smoke the pipe of freedom.
Hell!
We are all just
old
....old damn Indians
comin' home.
BIG LOL!
İCALIBER
May 19/2003  Thinking about Memorial Day (revised)
I Don't Come Cheap
I am the lump in the throat of the grandfather who listens as the
bugle's haunting, familiar melody sounds Taps at his namesake's
graveside
I'm the tears of anguish that flow so freely and fall from a mother's
cheek as she accepts the folded flag which covered her fallen son's
casket
I am the unborn child of a father who laid down his life for his
friends these many years past
I'm the knot in the stomach of the young wife who watches as a somber
faced chaplain approaches her door
The flowers and tiny flags placed with loving, trembling hands by a
granite stone
I am a soldier who survived and came home with both dogtags yet I
live under a bridge with only a bottle of cheap whiskey to warm me
and to send me blessed sleep
And I'm that soldier's buddy who stepped on the mine just seconds
after the other had passed safely over it
My bones rest under battlefields, cemeteries, oceans, beaches, and
jungles and are your receipts marked paid
I'm the cold sweat and midnight scream of the nurse who just tried
and again failed to `save' this one, I'm the missing limbs, I'm the
thousand yard stare in the eyes of your neighbor
I am.....the cost of freedom!
The price....of fleeting peace!
The payments made to liberty!
Am I worth it?........God help us........yes
And may we never ever forget to thank you or appreciate what you've
given to us!
İRandy Richmond 18 May 03
WAKING UP DEAD
Eyes never again to open
this day with endless time
not knowing at this moment
all that was left behind
Columns of troops, grace the sky's
wearing colors, so clean and bright
in perfect steps of rhythm
a proud and beautiful sight
Many different soldiers
from many walks of life
their tour of duty just beginning
this time an everlasting fight
They now serve the Master
invisible wings upon their backs
protecting those below them
from everyday attacks
They're proud Memorial Day Veterans
a thousand million strong
standing tall and together
knowing rights from wrongs
Their task many times rewarded
Their names etched in stone
Now on full time duty
watching over those at home
Each day their ranks grow stronger
as many leave their beds
it's called a new beginning
It's called.....Waking up Dead
İChuck Preston May2003
 WHERE THE MOON RIDES
AS A BOY
I CLIMBED THE SUMMER NIGHTS
WITHIN COOL BREEZES.
ALONE
WITH TREES.
HAPPY,
AS I WATCHED IN SILENCE,
THE JOURNEY OF THE MOON
BENEATH A PROMISE
OF STARS.
I LEARNED THAT DEATH COMES
AS AN OWL,
.........SILENT!
ONE CRY,
ONE STRIKE,
AND GONE.
THAT IS THE WAY OF A NATURAL WORLD.
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...............
...but War was a screaming bird
in a flaming night
that died
long into the next day,
and again,
the next.
War was a place where all are wounded.
...and no one had time to dig graves.
...and the birds were large and noisy Iron Birds
with iron feathers flapping,
...always gathering
the dead into their belly.
...and then the war fell away,
from so far away.
..just for a while,
in the years after,
those many years after
....... I came home.
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...
I AM ALONE AGAIN
AMONG THE OLD TREES OF HOME.
AN OLD MAN!
LOOKING UP AT THE SKY
WHERE THE MOON RIDES.......,
FAR
ABOVE THE SLANTED TREES.
THE STARS FLASH AGAIN,
AND AGAIN....
SENDING MESSAGES TO ME
........OF FAR MEMORY.
İCAL/RedCowboy
may 22 2003
...(for Memorial Day)
 MEMORIAL DAY ~ SUMMER BEGINS
A moments pause by Grandmas grave,
Then a heartfelt salute for those who gave
Their all in one of the many wars
And departed this life on some foreign shore.
Lets leave a rose for Daddy dear,
And bless Mamas stone with a jeweled tear.
The memories are warm on this special day
Of all of those who have gone away.
With a final sigh, our duties are done,
A glance at our watch tells us we must run
To catch the sales at some of the shops
And then prepare the ribs and chops
For the usual holiday gala cookout.
Isnt that what this day is all about?
İThurman P. Woodfork
May 23, 2003
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| copyright Steve Kossack |
Distant Melody
Our time on this sphere is not in metered rhyme
but mostly ,wildly tumbling prose...
Some of it, ethereal music, just below the range of our hearing
Time is not always presented with understanding,
but forever it is laced with wonder...
Sometimes we travel barren fields ,
and, othertimes, blossoming meadows
Valleys and mountains need to be traversed,
the means lying with the traveler...
We shall all arrive at our destination in our own time
Some sooner,some later,but all arriving one final day,
whether with the fanfare of trumpets or a just a gentle sigh
and, in traveling on, we realize the faint ethereal music
has become the welcoming sound of beloved familiar voices...
İFaye Sizemore 5/25/03
 A PRAYER...(May 26 2003)
WE WHO REMAIN
HAVE COME AGAIN
FROM DEEP PLACES OF THE HEART,
........TO REMEMBER THEM.
FROM WITHIN A PROMISE
KEPT,.......
....WE REMEMBER THEM.
FROM A BELIEF IN LIBERTY,
WE HOLD IN OUR HEARTS,
HER PROMISE TO ALWAYS
REMEMBER THEM.
WE CELEBRATE
THE MEN AND WOMEN OF ALL RACES,
AND DIFFERENT FACES,
WHO CHERISH FREEDOM.
..........AS WE REMEMBER
THOSE OF OUR BROTHERS
WHO FOUGHT WITH US,
SIDE BY SIDE,
IN THE VERY FOREVER
OF VIETNAM.
NONE ARE FORGOTTEN!
AND NONE WHO REMAIN
ARE ALONE
THIS DAY.
THE SUN PLACES HER WARM HAND UPON THE SKY!
THE EAGLE
FLIES!
Caliber/RC
İMay 26 2003
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Eyes of fire search for peace
Dreams of others lost never cease.
For over the hill lies the next fight
Not any different than those last night.
A mountain to climb with steep terrain
Whether it be sunny or pouring rain.
The mind plays a numbing story
No one finds the answer till one meets his final glory.
A conquest of anger and raw nerves
Leads each to the end they deserve.
This fight wont be won with knives or guns
The victory is found by each of mothers sons.
Sad goodbyes and fond farewells
Remembered stories that each tells.
This fight is within ourselves
Battles of long ago reach out and embed themselves.
To remember all is not achievable
To forget all is inconceivable.
Each day must be another conflict
They are all easy to predict.
For hours at a time talking to a shrink
Has yet to lead to any healing link.
Yet we each travel the same road
Some carries an even heavier load.
Of which I ramble on is P.T.S.D
For those that suffer the wish is to be free.
At last the journey is coming to a close
All are getting older and the struggle shows.
A lasting peace is found in the ground
With only peace to surround.
God shall wipe away all tears
Im sure he will as he has been there for all these years.
İDavid R. Alexander
May 26, 2003
All Rights Reserved
When Is A Hand Up Not A Hand Out?
Long ago for some and not so long ago for others
Many went to the service of their country and found brothers.
They were promised certain things for their service
Medical care, burial plots, and other things that make me nervous.
They fought the good fight many lost their life
Many lost more than they had to give, family and wife.
But they carried on with no complaint to be heard
Of course many things could have been changed that they preferred.
For the lucky ones that made it home
They expected the government to keep its word with the belief of Boehm.
Then to find that the wind blows many different ways
Most things change while very few the same way do they stay.
Now that they are growing older, maybe not much wiser
But with the help of many an advisor.
They have found that their ills can be treated
But to find the answer one must deal with the very ones that earlier cheated.
Many a veteran now finds ailments that are showing up later in life
Their only help is God, a good advisor and an understanding wife.
So before you put down those seeking their just dues
Maybe you could put yourself for one day in their shoes.
They want nothing for free
Just what was promised when they signed the military decree.
They have fought long and hard to gain the promised compensation
Wouldnt it be nice if the earned were given by a grateful nation?
İDavid R. Alexander
May 27, 2003
All Rights Reserved
How It Is......(PTSD)
From this pain
no escape ,little gain...
No cure,only control
doomed in time, growing old...
No magic cure...
Do you believe in miracles
Trapped with old demons,
forever bideing...
Pebbles in water...
ever widening circles..
encompassing all,ever widening,
ever widening...
surviving...surviving...
İFaye Sizemore 5/28/03
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