I remember what you said to me,
Covered in the grains of my juvenile determination,
“Come back in one piece” said with a deceiving
grin; crisp words you knew would never be.
I carried them like a wanting child,
Full of helplessness and curiosity,
Smoothing the turbulent rumblings,
That jolted me from inklings of the dark cloud,
That hangs and waters the reservoir of ruins.
Those words carried me along asphalt baked with defeated dreams;
Roadsides: the waiting point for the chariot that delivers us from buffering.
God does not live,
In the worn stained carpet of churches,
Or in the deceiving tongues of serpents,
But in foxholes mired with subtle cries
Of green fledgling lives.
And still is the wind that carries the want of a mother’s embrace;
A face implanted in the bosom of chance and pace.
I’m looking for Veterans who write poems/short stories to include in the hardcover version of War Poems. Works should range from gripping experiences overseas to the realities of returning home. Artists are welcomed.
If interested contact me below
We sit beside each other,
Not able to hold hands:
Bros only by another name.
We will not be written in books,
We will fade into the dust of time,
Our sweat dried from the escaping cracks
And we will carry whatever remnants
We have left,
In the coffers,
Brazen with smiles behind broken lives.
We hide in the early hours of the night,
Our faces enamoured with killing objects
on digial screens.
Yelling into a microphone “fuck you dude!”
Bitter between championed teams.
Mountain Dew fuels aggression and suppression of innocence stolen.
Chips are crisp with salt and plucked from fingers that pulled triggers.
Memories blare like trumpets inside lucid dreams,
And a drink soothes the nerves of a dream deterred,
Or so we heard.
We pray that light will shine,
Maybe for a few precious moments our minds drift off into a bliss of calm and contentment.
If we are mindful maybe our resentments will transform into forgiveness.
And addiction doesn’t run rampant,
Unchained in a field riddled with avoidance,
Transported to console the suffering.
Still in the lonely hours we needle every thread that quilts us to a time,
Where heroes dined on succulent dishes of mission.
Now we are confined to living our former lives through pictures,
Depicting a time where life and death were a line shorter than this sentence.
Where are the cuts,
When there is no flesh to see,
Beneath the layers of dirt,
There’s the wound,
Open and undertakened,
Of feelings born anew
Amongst the soil of fear and anxiety.
Thoughts of being damaged,
Ravages the inner sanctum.
The sharp touch of metal,
Caresses my fist,
As the light,
Devours a lonely glimpse,
Of what life has become,
For the boy,
Who left the shielding arms,
Of Apple pie and Monday night football,
To save a world from evil,
Without a uniform or flag.
As the faucet drips,
The tune of the forgotten,
Is lulled to sleep,
By the lullaby of the safety.
Click, click, click,
Is the rhythm of thought,
That dances between,
I’m very grateful to announce my upcoming book War Poems: Over There:
War Poems: Over There is a gut-punching journey into the soul of a soldier, with striking imagery relating war experiences in Iraq and the later acclimation to civilian life. It is a collection of deep and honest thoughts on war and its aftermath without glamour or flag-waving. Regret, suicide, love, lost, naïveté, destruction, are deeply woven within the candid poetry of Over There. If you have ever wanted to feel and discover what Veterans face both in the heat of battle and in the silence of suffering, Over There will open your heart.
It will be available to purchase this upcoming summer through Kindle, Bitcoin, and Dogecoin. Follow me for more details and announcements as we move closer to the launch.