The Vietnam War was on the news when I was in high school
The ones who got sent over to be fodder were from poor counties
Sons of congressmen and senators were not drafted
But other men were readily plucked up and sent over
To morbidly hot jungles full of mosquitos and the enemy
More got blown up or killed than came home intact
If they went over as an officer, they were killed by their own men
Usually in eight minutes
Why? Because if there is no officer to lead, you do not have to fight
Many of these young men were not fighters, they did not want to be soldiers
They had been involuntarily drafted, with little training
If they lasted one year, they could return. Most did not make it.
‘The natives are L-A-Z-Y,’ she says,
barely pausing as she stirs
her Earl Grey.
The letters fall, like pebbles,
into a chasm,
waiting for impact.
Or for the plate of Huntley & Palmers
to be passed around.
A cricket ratchets up the afternoon
while meager figures
crouch above herbaceous borders,
hacking at something.
Jacaranda, frangipani, bougainvillea…
the garden is overwhelmed
by its inventory.
Back in the paneled hall,
the grandfather clock has been
counting down to the apocalypse
since 1895.
It can wait for another
decade or two.
1960 superheroes
arrived inside our grayscale tvs
sporting fringed jackets, leather chaps, and stars on their chests
we knew they were the good guys
the bad guys wore black hats
I am John F. Kennedy as
President.
I am a civil right activist
100 percent.
I am Woodstock rock n
Roll festival.
I am the first man on the moon
Unforgettable.
I am Andy Warhol 15 minutes
Of fame.
I am Martin Luther King shot
Down in flames.
I am President Kennedy gets
Assassinated.
I am the Cuba missile crisis
Activated.
I am Walmart opens it's
Door.
I am we enter Vietnam
War.
I am the Beatles I want to
Hold your hand.
I am discrimination spreads
Through the land.
I am the NFL's first Super
Bowl.
I am Ceasar Chavez reaching
His goal.
I am the Peace Corp
Uncovered.
I am Miranda rights
Discovered.
I am Motown records
With Shop around.
I am the Beach Boys
With a surf sound.
I am at the Apollo with
Marvin Gaye.
I am Del Shannon singing
Runaway.
I am a hit with, Please
Mr. Postman.
I am Sgt Pepper's lonely
Heart club band.
TURBO1904
On a winding road of Channel Eight
I come across a test pattern, for I am late
In the form of the moon, an eclipse? Oh, great!
I stare into the eyes of grayscale fate.
I feel mesmerized, violated, a pawn somehow.
There it is, in front of me, an unbelievable wow.
No animal in sight – not a horse, human or cow.
Who on God’s gray earth will believe me now?
I expect to hear the National Anthem of course.
This test pattern eclipse is a nineteen sixties discourse.
Have aliens somehow learned our secret code in Morse?
And will they now take to their planet by weirdness or force?
The Thresholds of Tomorrow
David J Walker
It is 1959 and
the television
is my constant companion
Comforting me during breakfast
Praying at noon over meals
Saying good night before
Turning out the light sparkling
Over its ghostly screen
Flickering gray & green
Retreating into infinity
Speaking of the expanse and
The advanced enhancements
Of 1960
When new math counts life by
the numbers 1-0
there will be no returning from
the thresholds of tomorrow
1st Grade With Miss Harvison at Thatcher Elementary
David Walker
I
Miss Harvison’s smile greeted each taker of
An assigned seat of big kids desks
in our very first First Grade class
at Thatcher Elementary
It was early in September after a
Long summer and a
Successful year of half-day kindergarten
The beginning of numbered grades
All in a row
12 years was my first glimpse of forever
II
Miss Harvison was no taller than the
Tallest boys among us
And I was proudly one among them
Gray hair and pale blue eyes
Thin with the skin of an aging angel
She made learning fun
She made us want to come
For another chapter of Dick & Jane
And adding numbers
III
Miss Harvison never married
But by 1960 knew 50 years of children
She was 25 when she first arrived
And had her first 30 in a
Baptism of fire
She knew everyone
by name and by heart
It was the start of a life-long
love affair with teaching and learning
IV
Miss Harvison has always lived in the
Memories of a thousand and a half
Half-pints seated in neat rows
The children who became her students
Her treasures
Her measures of a meaningful life
blue granny glasses
bubbly lava lamp
yellow happy face
Mamas and The Papas
Karen Carpenter
Embroidered blue jeans
Flowered shirt for men
Janice Joplin
decorated Volkswagen bus
Hip hugger bell bottoms
Shag carpeting
Hypnotherapy
1960's
Star
Shiny Tinsel
Laughter sounds
Nirvana of Christmas
Grandma's house with cousins
Chasing and frolicking, glad to laugh
Gingerbread and cinnamon wafting around
Nirvana pure and simple, Christmas of my childhood
Amazingly beautiful bubble lights at Grandma’s are magical.
Drawing me like a Luna moth as their bubbles gurgled and floated.
Seeming to be brand new each Christmas, magical, mystical, and fresh.
sweet
lovely
pure
delight
in Jesus's
honor
the time is
now 1959
on a twenty
four hour
rolex watch
watching the
time so it dare
not stop while
flipping through
an a to z rolodex
wondering if I put
her under m or r
i'll show you
a photo of her
before she be
came famous
these are her
toes and this
her lips with
no, even though,
a retro photo in
black and white,
no lipstick worn
she is a natural
and naturally
she can keep
a great conversation
up even longer then viagra a
symbol and image of a tower that
after hours has let off a lot of steam
but she looks the part
and from the start
becomes the
star
i saw a photo
of her years
ago and
it was
very becoming to even
say that it was one
of the best dis
played sites
i'd ever seen so
let's create the
scene played
by everyone
and me again
with her here
and everywhere
let us pray as i
am now on knees
begging absolute
absolution for once
i agree scientifically
that they have
determined
that alcohol is
a solution
but now
i need
to find
the
problems
100ft. under the paving, 100f o into work.
Heat attacks via, boilers, stoves & grill.
Languages thrash & assail the ears,
Chilling the blood of the faint hearted.
Why do it? Fulfil artists quest?
Unpaid by the guests our two hours of stress,
Hours of prep functions of 100’s demand,
Bins of ‘turned’ spuds, sacks full of veg,
Work for the youngsters learning the trade,
Guided by elders experienced & skilled.
Stay alert for 'the orders'; answer "toute d’suite”
Ever aware of high standard’s demand.
Teamwork smooths edges, as tensions rise,
‘Tools’, armed for battle with soup, fish, or roasts.
Satisfying those titled, indulging & spoilt.
With training & practice, dexterity grows,
With passion helps the designs shine.
The gifts gained last us a lifetime,
For the staff & customers; ‘sometimes’.
The pay-back of skill's greater than pay.
Our bones were once strong,
Our blow was once a punch,
Our teeth's were once healthy
to munch,
Our skin didn't wrinkle in a twinkle
We didn't become old, we grew old.
We were once young,
We were once
"The beautiful and the handsome"
But for this century I don't know
what love has become.
You'll give your all and get
nothing in return.
I met your father back in 1960
during the month of November,
That moment is one to forever
remember
He was charming, wearing a
smile with his cowboy's hat.
That time he couldn't afford a bike
But then 'True Love' was worth
more than fancy cars.
He steps closer and said;
You're the most beautiful woman
I've ever seen,
Those words took my heart
to places its never been.
We were once young,
Truth be told, true love never
get old.
Olajire Damilola Muyideen
(SmilingPen)
© Copyright owner
IG - smiling_pen
Please, mister, take me back in time
To the 1960’s, so sublime
Loan me your machine that changes time
What is wrong, are you a Mime?
Please mister, take me to the days
When everyone was nice in all their ways.
Take me to the 60’s when we were all sunny and fun.
And everyone took care of all the children on the run.
Take me back to a time when everyone’s mom gave you a whack.
Take me back to the time when people cared if you drank from a paper sack.
Take me back to a time when the entire neighborhood was concerned about you, Mack.
Please mister, I am pleading with you, Let me get in your time machine and travel back.
VietNam War – TET
war
60’s
Viet Nam
youth quickly lost
Greyscale TV’s final shock and awe
Written April 28, 2019
Contest: Tetractys This Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Charles Messina
Flipping through the pages
Skimming the dried ink
So many questions it raises
Oh, the many things I think
Who are these young faces
And where are they, today
Though they left many traces
Green, they couldn’t stay
The smell of aged paper
Nostalgia hits my nose
20th century flavor
Ketamine and blow
They wrote of their “tomorrow”
But that was yesterday
I feel a bit of sorrow
They’ve surly passed away
I compare them to myself
And ponder my demise
Tucked away on a shelf
Live all these hopeful eyes
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