Best Fatigues Poems
Romeo Jaxx had a friend for a fool
So he never thought "Baby's in love."
He fought for his rights
and he slept through your dreams
With his self-centred wolverine paralysed
Drove out of the camp on a bright summer's day
waving last weekend's pass-out goodbye
Phoned Jenny, then Julie, who never complained
Filled his tank, with the world running dry.
Throws off the fatigues now, just too tired to fight,
He will walk to the beat
of another man's drum
sometimes valour's the best part of sin.
With a grin shoves his ring
on the pawnbroker's manicured thumb.
Now this story splits down three parallel lines.
My version, the truth and your lies
You saw him conversing with 12-year-old Jim
in myriad tongues, his back to the wind.
I found him saluting a girl in Key West,
Where admirals croak and malingerers lie.
We both know he broke each old, weary taboo
Well, salmon will leap
when they're straining to die.
Maybe Romeo Jaxx is of much sterner stuff
And never was swayed from some destiny's path.
Straight as a die
but the die is now cast,
the cast are now blind
and the blind are aghast.
Our Romeo sees that there's no one ahead
don't tell him, there's no one behind.
I remember
That summer
Days in slow motion
Longer nights
Nothing to do
Bored
And angry
I enlisted.
Military orders
In breast pocket
Standing In formation
Gear
Next to my right leg
Family, friends and memories
Lurking
Somewhere in the shadows.
Cargo plane
Engines thrusting
Size beyond imagination
Pushing through a crowd
Of olive green fatigues
I grab a seat near the back
Meet another soldier
Friendly round face
Broad shoulders
Southern drawl
We share some things in common
I call him Country
He calls me City.
An eternity
Flying in the clouds
Hours pass
We finally land
Stomach churning
Running on adrenalin
We disembark
Carrying 90lb backpacks
Walking into
Oppressive heat
Nauseating smell
Suspicion everywhere
In the distance an ugly black cloud
Blocks the sun
From a place where children hide
And death is just a step away.
Numb with fear
All the tough words and slogans
From basic training
Slip away
I grip my rifle
A soldier yells out
Watch my back
And I’ll watch yours
The words strike a raw nerve
Country slaps me on the back
Up front someone cracks a joke
Nervously we laugh
And I think to myself
Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.
"The Gift"
Communication to a friend...
Responding to what you have written, responding to your thoughts. This is a very deep and very sad write and I get it.
I would like to read the story further to see how it unfolds.
One, no matter how F’ing awful the cards drawn in this life, expects to see a “win” at some point, even if it’s a small win. I think this is a metaphor for the treadmill of life and the large amount of driving down roads and passing parcels (messages) to others (you experience also in your job). Life becomes so stilted and routine after a while, like going to sleep and waking up (when you’d rather stay in your dreams, even the nightmares are lacking routine).
I wonder sometimes, when passing the parcel (like that game we played – or some of us played – at children’s parties, when we were very very young, with the expectation of a message of mystery and elation, then the unwrap, to find just another parcel wrapped underneath it all with another message for the next player we passed the parcel to – well, I wonder, what that person hides in their journey, no matter the glossy and cheery exterior they wear in front of us, swinging their gaslight, as some kind of torture, to say, “see I’m doing so much better than you”….when perhaps they aren’t and they are hiding great depths of despair internally, where they fall fathoms daily, not reaching even the bottom but they, in their own way, are trying (boy are they trying), to find the ladder to claw their way back out of the sinkhole (built by themselves, or others), towards the light. Depression loves its camouflage fatigues. Eventually, surely the last parcel reaches the person it is intended for and when the final unwrapping occurs, what’s contained in the Pandora box, may or may not be the diamond we were expecting.
I think you should continue this – it is like the opening chapter to a novel.
Have a lovely, peaceful, safe and joyful Christmas and I think perhaps 2023 might be your Year (for all good things to come your way).
With LOVE,
that is all that matters,
through every waking moment
p.s. I expect to read your next instalment on Christmas Day.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
Christmas
A soldier by the name of Patricia
Was teased by the guys in the militia
Instead of a grenade
They made him a maid
In his army fatigues he had charisma
© Jack Ellison 2015
for me i still have the war within
a fight that was not mine to hold
i should rejoice for our side won
but left some brother and sisters
in the cold flag draped boxes cold
put down my rifle, helmet, boots
married but the war was still going
the battle ground bloodied with scars
bullet riddled lies booby traps of deceit
she has to sleep with the enemy me
put to rest my bloody fatigues
take away the war in me
help me be the man i should
and over come the pride i could
remember those who paid the price
who won't come home
memorial day i lay it down
no more fight no more gun
just remembering the ones that
didn't make it home
As an era of rage and power surged forth;
there were Nam warriors crossing the line...
did they have fate, did they have a choice
but crown a homeland's need for supreme win?
Dressed in fatigues, soldiers baked in hot sun
booby traps and minefields nailed on minds,
as wet noon blazed around their acidic voices,
morphine and death kicking dim walls of night.
From 1965- to 75, this lost war ended...
the comedy of politics gone wrong,
although a homecoming of men’s brigade
lost a victory... screams of peace reigned.
Promote peace not war
Sponsor: Silent One
10/27/2015
Normal people scare me
The other day,
I shuffled my way,
down the street,
minding my own business.
As I raised my glance upwards
to the oncoming pedestrian
traffic on the busy sidewalk,
I noticed a young woman (I think)
as she (?) approached me,
I saw her,
navigating her way through
the stream of people crossing
in front of her,
like a salmon,
swimming against the current.
She had purple spiked hair,
sides shaved,
her face,
pierced like a pin cushion,
and, every inch of exposed flesh
was covered in profanity laced ink.
She wore army fatigues,
and a T shirt, with the words
"NORMAL PEOPLE SCARE ME".
emblazoned across her chest!
As her brazen eyes,
searched for reactive glances,
I cast my gaze downwards.
Strange thing was...
no one even seemed shocked by her!
Upside down world!
John Derek Hamilton
Feb 27,2017
Craggy-bearded, old gent;
cigar in-hand;
faded army fatigues,
thread bare from the years at war.
He sits, on a cold mall stool;
chats away with the passersby.
An old-timer
with more stories to tell,
than he has years left,
to live.
The crowd gathering ‘round him;
all curious-faced and half-smiling;
listen intently
transfixed by his war-memories.
The faces that he makes,
Expressions morphing,
into sadness;
at the relating of exploits
of long-gone comrades.
A frozen-faced,
young boy in the crowd,
absorbed in the old Vet’s memories,
says to him;
“Wow, you’re a real hero!”
Craggy-bearded old soldier
Laughs; points to the, purple heart,
proudly displayed on his chest.
“That’s exactly what they said,
when they gave me this medal, son.”
By: M.L. Kiser
Entered into, "Sketch-A-Character" contest
First Published on Poetry Soup: 10-29-14
Parading through tangled vines, dense brush
Green fatigues twining with emerald canopy so lush
A humid vapor drifts overhead; perspiration founts gush
Under foot decaying leaves and rotting vegetation mush
The eerie stillness on all sides made my adrenaline rush
We meandered through the jaded obstacle course
Search and destroy our tour de force
Stalking amorphous foe who cunningly uses every available
resource
Walking through the valley of death with little recourse
Seeking the beauty of nature from the artifice of war to divorce
Rustling leaves ahead put unit on full alert
Silhouettes flutter, then through the plush seams squirt
Enemy artillery moving into place and soldiers around our flanks
skirt
Without warning, enfilading fire from both sides did spurt
After momentary pause, I hit the dirt
Lieutenant screamed for the mortar unit
Crawling down an embankment; I dove into a pit
Head up, I fired at every moving figure in my orbit
I heard 'fire in the hole'; the rampart became a fiery spit
Springing from the fiery inferno, I felt a piercing pain; I had been hit
A surgeon was called to my side
Blood flowed from head gash so deep, wide
After a shot of morphine, a bandana was around my head tied
On a stretcher quickly thrown, and through the mayhem we plied
Smoke and fire all around; tossed to and fro on the bumpy ride
Into the clearing, we cautiously strode
Snipers greeted us with volley after volley; our pace slowed
The pick-up point posse, now in view, were in full alert mode
Earth-shattering fire from the helicopter team did the woods
explode
Serpentining to the helicopter, the rescue team with a daring lunge my stretcher did load
Vietnam: World of War contest
Stephen Parker
Today the air seems cold and still
darkness has triumphed over the day
when hope for the return of daylight
touches of a lavender appear in the sky above
looking east the horizon is a rich royal blue
with black mountain silhouetted highlights
to the west sky is dark purple a grayish tint
mountains are sleeping lazily on the landscape
without any doubt daylight is approaching
there is a struggle within the night time sky
the heavens in the east sky begin to glow
to the west the sky is painted a reddish hue
darkness fatigues with this celestial glory
the earth awakens and begins to glow
Victory is a daybreak in Oregon
Edward J. Ebbs - Winter 2005
Spring ! The clip shot out:
Empty now of rounds and clout
Waiting for the next, for
Me to load the killing rounds,
The equalizers, bullets shot
Through steel
Spring! I sit in mud and
Dream of spring, that
Soother, that fragrant mist
That speeds through gardens
Flowers and young boys
Chests and brains Spring!
But rest your pretty head
Those who seek to rule by
Jest and paltry death: not
steal our heavenly flowers
Pulled from scented gardens
Breath.
Return your combats and
Fatigues to roses spread
About your knees and
Love that’s true, upon the
Stones that writ the soldier’s
Caveat.
“Think not of gold or frosty
Frown but how the spring rose
Wears its crown”
It was summertime and healing from the winter’s dark
Felt like memories were alone and silent, warring with the doubts
Leaves green and dancing with the breeze, wings of hope
Laughing at the lost moments when we played tag with hide n’ seek
It was a game, summer’s cure for the past that was all pain
Clouds of melancholy folded into shadows where Michael gave us
All the ice cream and root beer we could eat and drink, consume
With overwhelming urgency, appetites for a home cooked meal
Crushed beneath the sugary syrup and cold vanilla breath
It was summertime, before the moon and stars caught up
With twinkle of fireflies in a Mason jar, quarts of shimmering
Lights, delighting our hearts and our thoughts with their breathless
Glow, their embers alive with silent joy, amazing music only
Discovered in the dusk, just before day fled into the ebony distance
It was summertime and Michael wore his camouflage fatigues
After the Army, he never seemed without some tale, flickering images
Moments of comical whims delighting, inviting the twinkles, laughter
In Granny’s clear, blue eyes – alive with the love she had for him
The youngest boy of six siblings, all gone off on their own now
Inspired by the croaking frogs on the edges of a summer evening
Blended with hearts who were beating hope, light, love…
Before Michael would leave, dying beneath the heavy cruelty
His alcoholism wore him down to a shadow of the child she’d known
The man who laughed so that he seemed to vibrate, tremble
With the joy that poured forth from his throat, his wonderous light
It was summertime when he died and I mourned… oh, how I cried
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 11 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
August 3, 2022
A Mother's Heart
She brought this babe
Into this world with such care,
A life full of hope and dreams
Nothing will happen to him...nothing would dare.
She sends him to school
And days filled with little league,
Never a thought he would
One day leave dressed in fatigues.
That day came too soon
A day covered in clouds,
Kissing him goodbye
Knowing he would make her proud.
Her son fought for his beliefs
For the red, white, and blue,
For independence and justice
Freedom for his mother and for you.
There is nothing more wrenching
Then that of a mothers cry,
For the loss of her child
And the call saying her son has died.
You see I can not understand
I can not say its okay,
All I can do now
Is kneel down and pray.
"Dear God
I know you have taken him
And made him strong once more,
But I miss him so terribly
All the way to my core.
There is no way to describe
This pain which fills my soul,
Could you not take me too
Release me from this black hole."
Her son fought for his beliefs
For the red, white, and blue,
For independence and justice
Freedom for his mother and for you.
Can you even for a moment
Imagine the ripping apart,
The pain and agony of
A mother's heart.
2004
Edie Hendrikse
Something for my lady, gettin that money by any means.
Who get with the player type, a thug, from the hood with good dreams,
Who kick it in high heals, plenty tank tops, camouflage, fatigues
Her thongs clear to the vision, so you can see some good things
Stretch marks, body smoother then Marble floors in Hamptons
Lampin' large in a condominium or mini mansion
Sidekick mobile phone, three flip like kirk
I'm very religious, superstitious, and like David I ain't scared to flirt
I'm from the dirt, root and soot. Came up on my own foot.
Used to hang with the crooks, But now I'm legit don't ask where I work just know keep a job
on the books.
I took my chance with many girls, but until I looked for a woman.
I got one thats crazy, sexy & cool. Waterfalls, good lookin'.
I can remember back in school, being judged by chicks,
People hearing I have some money, suddenly I'm the sh,
Past baby's mama, drama, karma, dillemas and problems
got me writing this jingle, ready to mingle, Holla, holla, holla, holla.
They marched past my lane warriors all
Smart green fatigues, mirthful soldiers tall,
Hats inclined, their buttons shining bright
Boots drumming into a warming light,
Young hearts harking to their nation’s call.
I laud mother’s who have given birth
To lads seeking a heavenly berth,
Spurning their tomorrows’ for others
Courting death for sake of their brothers,
They are but heavens’ glory on earth.
They melted into that day of June
Unsung heroes in a blazing noon,
Cheered by townsfolk bidding them goodbye
Packing them to battle fields to die,
Their wreaths being readied as festoon.
Their bravery in battles I read
On alien soil they lay and bled,
Spilling pure blood of mothers’ somewhere –
Whose tears of valour only pride can bear,
Their flesh ceded to the land of dead.
O’ History on your pages I smote
That heavens’ pen this bloodied note,
Of unsung heroes who gave their breath
Quartered their flesh at altars of death,
Patriots for whom praises it quote.
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