Writings Of Boondockers Poetic Justice Members
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Site Awards
Lighter Side Of BPJ
Lighter Side #2
Lighter Side #3
LIGHTER SIDE#4
4TH OF JULY 2003
THE KOREAN WAR REMEMBERED /July 27,1953-July27,2003 50 years

This Is A Place Of Remembrance

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A Young Soldier`s Vision...No Defeat

All day long and into the waning night,
the young soldier became weary of the fight
Still the enemies attacked as did a hungry hound
There was smoke and fires and dying all around
Many of his buddies had now gone down
They were steadily,steadily losing ground
Out of men,out of ammo,not to mention hope
Out of everything, Lord,but prayer,
.......................... that was no joke

The young soldier prayed as never before
'Jesus, help us out of this place, so poor
I don`t want to die at just nineteen,
but I see no other end to this scene'
The young soldier thought that he did see,
through the smoke and enemy fire,
the form of another soldier begin to transpire
He watched this soldier come across the battlefield
In the midst of fierce fighting, this man did not  yeild

He still could not see the soldiers face,
but then, like lightening, then,he knew.
This was his answer of faith, so true
'Welcome ,Lord Jesus',he quickly said,
'I have been praying for help from you'
This,' soldier like', Jesus of the battle field,
walked straight to him and did not yield
as in a hail of fire, the soldier did go down
He lay wounded,bleeding on the ground

The soldier was afraid to open his eyes,
` lest the new found friend be gone.
and he would again find himself alone
He heard these words, whispered,
........................... like promises anew,
'Be not afraid,for I will go home with you,
and you know in your heart, it is true,
for if it may be,that your soul has been set free,
then,my friend,I will take you home with me'

©Faye Sizemore   6/10/03

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This Is My World

This is my world and welcome in

Its always nice to see a friend.

Even if its in a dream.

 

Friends from so long ago visit while I sleep

Into my dreams they tend to creep.

Faces from the past.

 

Friends that have been dead for such a long while

Now at night they visit me and smile

Welcome to my world.

 

Men that came to be my brothers,

Friends like no others.

Still they visit me at night in my world.

 

At night while I dream

They say "its O.K." it seems.

Their presents leave me with memories of the past.

 

Ive made friends in the time since

But none that can fill the loss so intense.

Welcome to my world.

 

For every one that died there in that place

Hundreds more took up their race

That means more to visit me in my world.

 

So if you have the time or the urge

And if you think within my dreams you can merge

Welcome to my world.

 

So many last night I did see,

Standing in heaven waiting for me.

All were there to Welcome Me To Their World.

©David R. Alexander

June 11, 2003

All Rights Reserved

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Thanks Gal!

 

You were always patient.

.....quiet and smiling within that new world
of us.

Ohh! how I loved your arms around me
always....and only
here.

........and in this home you have given me.

I can live with the death and the War,

.........the hatred I felt
when children and villages
were savaged and torn.

Hanging in death,
within the bloody forever
of history.

I was made of steel
...then!

.........but now
the rust and tears of old age
have made me human
again.

The deadly weapon that remains
within my eyes
is placed
on 'safe'!

Here
with you,
the scars continue to heal.

Love is what I feel.

You Diane,
my very love.

You!


.......are real.




Caliber
©Jun 12 03
LJKlaiber

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Dare to Dream?

Humping in the toolies while my mind drifts into reverse, Thinkin'
bout the past couple of star lit nights. This jungle is
treacherously beautiful at times. Moon dancin' through the canopy as
the stars peek through the thick leaves. Takes ya back to a more
peaceful time and place. Problem is drifting off in this state of
mind can get a person killed. Tryin' to keep focused is a real
pisser out here in the big green. Subconsciously scanning the tree
tops while wiping sweat from your eyes can take the romanticism
right out of ya. The razor grass has its own way of sucking the
strength outta ya. Least it lets ya know your still alive cause you
bleed from little strips, gotta be thankful for the little things
eh'. Skeeters buzzing, inhaling dust ,this pack feels like a hundred
pounds of canvas on my back. My M14 slung barrel down over my
shoulder hangs horizontally resting in my hands ready for action,
while this piss pot on my head cooks my brain from the inside out.
Friggin romantic all right a real love story going on here. What
would we have if we couldn't dream? Complain about the damp cool
jungle at night and then moan about the heat of the sun during the
day. No happy medium, all we got is the dreams of yesterday and the
hope of tomorrow. Right now drags on endlessly and it doesn't
matter. This second does cause I'm still breathing and walking the
bush. Two seconds from now ain't guaranteed and we know this to be
true, cause we have seen how quick eternity began for some of
us.Wonder what they were dreamin bout when time stopped for em'.

Gotta live somehow and we gotta survive even if it's in a semi
focused state of mind. Thinkin' bout that centerfold in Playboy
beats the hell outta dwelling on the ambush last night, or lifting
them body bags into the chopper this mornin'. Had friends last night
and today they are gone. Like I said this jungle is treacherously
beautiful at night. The stars ain't all that light up the sky. But
that's life in the boonies. If ya don't book a trip once in awhile
in the shadows of your mind you'll lose control big time. Everybody
here's got the thousand yard today, stepping light and living right
somewhere stateside. Tryin' to forget. Going through the motions
while tryin' to bury the emotions of war. Last night I was livin' in
hotel hole while staring up at that orange Vietnam moon when stars
turned into tracer rounds ripping our position to shreds. Charley
was busy with war while we were booking flights to Disneyland. Paid
the price to One-Way-Ville with tickets soaked in blood and steel
rattling in the Platoon sergeants hand. Note to self, I gotta book
shorter trips. Question was " What would we have if we couldn't
dream?" Perhaps the lives of those who bought it last night under
the darkness of the canopy. Death does not enhance itself in the
golden glow of Vietnam Moonlight. Today I hump the toolies and I'll
try to forget. But tonight! tonight I won't be buyin' any dream
tickets to the World. Tonight I will be tryin' to punch a few Cong
tickets of my ownDestination, Deceased-Ville North Vietnam.

Live and learn, Learn and Live.

Boon
©Richard Preston 6/13/03

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Café De Hades, A True Account

It's been a long day, my feet are smokin' like a water-boo caught in
a napalm strike. Thought we would never dig in for the night. Got to
wonder how many clicks we went in circles today. I think we went
round that yard village six times at least. Crusty little rascals
that's for sure but Charley sure respects em'. Blow guns and spears,
Bow and arrows and five foot of mean wrapped in loin cloths would
tend to discourage a body from aggravating them. It would be like
tryin' to slam-dunk a hornet's nest into your own sleeping bag. Saw
the captain bartering with em' a bit earlier, could be we will spend
the night encamped around the Ville. I hope so cause we could sleep
heavy for a change.

Beauty is most definitely in the eyes of the beholder but the
culture ain't real pretty. Don't know how Pappa-sahn can smooch old
Mamma-sahn with black teeth and red beetle-nut juice running down
her chin. Love is blind and seeing as they don't have mirrors I can
understand the attraction, but good Lord I hope they don't invite us
all to dinner. The last time I ate with the locals was a few months
back, south of Phubai. We were in holes for a spell overlooking rice
paddies. Down the road a bit was a river and a small village where a
couple of these jarhead geniuses would go to get some local food.
Seems they had a favorite Mamma-sahn that would cook for em' in
exchange for some C-rats. I was invited to go with em' one afternoon
so we four hopped in the jeep and tooled on down to the ville with a
case of hot C's bouncing around in the back. I don't know what
possessed me to go with em' but I believe it was the temptation of
the local Cuisine. The Café de Hut or some bullshit like that. We
pulled into the ville and three of us hopped out and headed into the
hooch while one Guarded the jeep. With the case of C's slung up on a
shoulder we sauntered on in and took a seat on some rickety old
straw bench. Mamma-san flashed her toothless smile grabbed the case
and within a couple of minutes three bowls of soup were delivered
and set down in front of us. Then she graciously bowed and stepped
back into the back room. There we sat, three shitheads with steaming
hot grayish liquid bowls of a mothers home made soup permeating our
nostrils. One of em' said go-ahead newbie, this some good stuff.
Mamma didn't raise no fool so I waited for bigmouth to dig in. He
did and he didn't choke or nuthin' so I went ahead and started
eating. Let me tell ya, this bowl was dee-eeep. Couldn't see much
but I was hoping it was chicken, sorta tasted like chicken but then
doesn't everthing? Slurping away and grinning like a bunch of rubes
at a strip joint we MMmm'd good and gulped this delicious gray
concoction down. All was fine til I got down to the bottom of this
endless supply of soup. I stuck my spoon down to the bottom and drug
up a piece of chicken all right, the only problem was it was a head,
eyeballs beak and everything staring at me from the center of my
spoon. I thought to myself, Naw tell me it aint so. So I dug in
again and hoisted up the head but this time it had a claw stuck in
it's eyeball. Shit yeah, I am seeing what I am eating and now I must
run. I hit the door and dinner was served to the shitbird guarding
the jeep. Needless to say it wasn't pretty. Put a whole new meaning
to phrase spit shined boots.

Three days later after spewing out beaks and eyeballs, shining the
shitter and pulling splinters out of my spark shooting ass I started
to remember my own name. Threes company and we became very close
during this barrage of dysentery we shared. No Vietcong in their
right mind would have come within two hundred yards of our odor
wreaking position , hell for all they knew we went and poisoned
ourselves at mamma-sons Café de Hades. Or it could have sounded as
though we had one hell of a load of heavy ordinance going off for
thirty-six hours. In my fevered state I can remember looking over at
the connoisseur of Asian dining and between shivers saying I-I-I-I
M m m G g g GONNNA F f f FRAG Y y YURRR AAAASSSSSSS! But then I
thought I would be doing him a favor so I let em' suffer along with
the rest us.

Experience is knowledge.

We will encamp round the Yard Village tonight. Sleep we may even if
it's with one eye open. Charley won't be by to pay us a visit, we
can be rest assured of that. These Yards scare the hell outta me and
their reputation for dealing with the VC precedes them. I think they
boil em' and eat em'.Funny thing though, Looks like the chief took a
liking to the Captain. Invited em' to dinner so it seems. Maybe we
will be here a bit longer than we expected. How's about a bowl of
Dai wee stew. Feel like huggin' the old Yard chieftain, yes-sir-ree-
bob!!!

©Richard Preston 6/14/03

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