Best Hanoi Poems
Try to get out of bed early, try to make your bed. Inhale.
Your off-white bedsheets haven’t been washed in a month.
Try purchasing a new detergent, one of those that’s petal-scented:
2 in 1 Aroma Boost Spring Daydream Wash.
Try smiling in the mirror; especially
If you have dimples. They’re the new “it” thing.
Inhale. Do yoga.
Do yoga and dance. Catch your breath.
Go on YouTube and search up Boho Beautiful, pretend
you’re a clean-girl white-flare has-it-together pilates almond mom.
Make a protein powder banana-peanutbutter shake. Ignore its soil taste.
Inhale and purchase some lululemon leggings.
Write out your feelings. Inhale. Lie to your journal about
the ache hosted in your ribs.
Call it your “self-reflective daily diary,” where you
Write about a fond memory, your [insert therapy term] place, pretend
your year-long headache isn’t pumping your eyes out anymore.
Write about your childhood. Write about the dog you never had.
Act like you finally know what’s caused your hollow.
Travel. Book your Ryanair all-exclusive roundtrip to
Hanoi. Book a tourist bus. Go on a zip line.
There, you will find yourself, and when that stranger
Puts a conical hat on your head
You will thank them for healing you.
You will return, completely changed, smelling
Like hibiscus flowers. Inhale and call your friends.
They’d love to hear from you. Just not
during your 5 AM seeping into icy bathroom floor tiles,
or the third day in which you’ve needed to take extra sleeping pills
that made the window light look hazy.
Call them. Just make sure it isn’t during their own
self-reflective cinnamon candle eating ritual.
NEED MORE TIPS ON HOW TO FEEL BETTER?
SUBSCRIBE: ONLY $5.99/MONTH!
Inhale. There’s still time to save yourself.
MEMORIAL DAY
June 1, 2015
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To all of you that have ever worn
"THE UNIFORM"
The Uniform of safety and security,
The Uniform of pride and liberty
THE UNIFORM OF FREEDOM
THE UNIFORM OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THANK YOU
Thank you to all, in every branch, in every time From:
1776 - 2015
The American Revolution
The Civil War (North or South)
World War I
World War II
Korea
Vietnam
Cambodia
Laos
Panama
Nicaragua
The Falkland Islands
Somalia
Yugoslavia
Bosnia
Kuwait
Iraq
Afghanistan
Pakistan
The Persian Gulf
~~
War Zones and Battlefields, such as:
Lexington/Concord, Gettysburg, Pearl Harbor, Midway Island, Normandy, D-Day, Berlin, Tripoli, Iwo Jima, Okinawa, The 38th Parallel, The Bay of Tonkin, Me Lei, Hanoi, The Hanoi Hilton, Saigon, The Ho Chi Minh Trail, Baghdad, Kabul, Ground Zero Manhattan, Pentagon 9/11, a field near Shanksville PA.
and many many more,
(not all locations are listed with no dis-respect)
You are all Heroes and Role Models,
not for a Nation, for A Peaceful Planet
not for Americans, for all Humanity,
not only today this Memorial Day,
for all days and all days to come.
You are appreciated! because freedom has high costs
and you pay the price for all of us.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Godspeed, safety and peace where ever you are.
Sincerely,
Warner C. Baxter Jr.
American Patriot
Scottsdale, AZ. U.S.A.
GOD BLESS AMERICA
Semper Vigilo
AIR FORCE
There were those times
On long missions over Laos and the Gulf of Tonkin
When a weariness settled over us
Over pilot and navigator and crew
Settled on us like a resigned acceptance
Like the letting go before sleep arrives
Our shoulders sagged
And our voices became hoarse
It was as if we were entering another dimension
Where worry was not a concern.
And then over the radio came the voice of an F105 pilot
On a bombing run over Hanoi
Whose voice sounded the weariest of all
MAYDAY! He called out on emergency frequency
My plane's been hit and I'm bailing out
As if he realized at that moment
That his life hung on more than his parachute
On more than a missing man formation.
AND THE MOTHERS WEEP
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
A young lanky sod buster with no place to go
Thought things would be better in San Antonio
Joined some of his Texas patriots at the Alamo
To declare freedom from a tyrannical foe
He and his friends were all destined to die
All slain. Giving rise to a sacred battle cry
“Remember the Alamo”
The fathers swear, and the mothers weep
A bright young man with a future to share
Awoke one cold morning at Ypres, over there
Fixed bayonets, following orders to prepare
Innocent of the burdens they will bear
Existing the muddy trench, charging en masse
They all succumbed, victims of mustard gas
“It’s a long way to Tipperary”
The fathers curse, and the mothers weep
A recent collegian learned to aviate
Totally innocent of the awaiting fate
Sailed into the pacific on the USS Enterprise
Trap is set, catch the enemy by surprise
Torpedo squadron raced to the scene that day
No members of the squadron survived “Midway”
“Lets Remember Pearl Harbor”
The fathers wrathful, and the mothers weep
A day in June the world arose to a horrific hell
Invaders from the north crossed 38th parallel
The lightning attack caught the south asleep
The slaughter was constant, the invasion deep
Pusan, the stronghold that stopped the attack
The price paid for by 58,000 that never came back
“Not War, a Police Action”
The fathers enraged, and the mothers weep
Mothers weep (2)
Moist and dense jungles, once known as Indo-China
The tragic battlefield producing murderous drama
58,000 paid the price, more than half million deployed
Napalm burned villages, ancient temples destroyed
Saigon once called the Paris of the orient
The Hanoi Hilton’s prisoners now absent
“Hell no, I won’t go”
The fathers bitter, and the mothers weep
Erect a stele to all women in a public place
On it etch the painful notices they may face
It will be a warning for those yet unborn
The unending years, that they will mourn
The fathers filled with vengeful cries
Seek retribution with watery eyes
The mothers turn and toss unable to sleep
And the mothers weep, and the mothers weep
The enemy has young men they want to keep
And the mothers weep, and the mothers weep
Don't go calling baby-boomers no heroes
Our legacy won't be much above zero
What GRAND contributions we've made
We blessed you with cocaine and aids!
All pop wanted when he survived the war
Was a quaint little family of four
But reality busted their bubble
What they got was truck-load a' trouble
We grew up too coddled and cozy
Running rings around po' little Rosie
Whatcha' get for paid college tuition?
A spoiled brat who can't do addition
Staging sit-ins to protect the masses
With pillows for tender little asses
No Vietnam or bust for THIS Joe
(My congressman will intervene, you know)
So go stuff your damn draft notice order!
(Later dude, gotta' run for the border)
Welcome back Sarge, here's your homecoming prize
How 'bout the finger and spit in both eyes?
We stand PROUD may God bless our sweet flag!
(You SALUTING?? Good lord what a drag!)
How we LABORED to set the world free!
Hey, wanna' check out my new SUV?
***Vietnam was of course a tragic mistake and there were many injustices during those times...However many of the protesters and draft dodgers were privileged, insulated rich kids who had no clue about the real world...The ultimate insult was Jane Fonda's visit to North Vietnam in 1972, where she proudly posed on an enemy anti-aircraft gun while POW's were being tortured practically next door..One of those POW's was Senator John McCain who was offered release but refused because those imprisoned earlier were not offered the same...now THAT'S what I'd call a Baby Boomer hero!
To her very small credit, 'Hanoi Jane' later apologized calling her visit a mistake and a betrayal to the troops...ditto to you, Ms. Fondue....
M. I. A. ( Missing In Action )
The date was nineteen and sixty nine,
A soldier wrote a girl named Caroline,
The VC were starting to close in,
He wasn't sure when he could write again.
But there was something he had to say.
Three words he should have said before this day.
He poured out his heart on every line,
Then finished with "I love you Caroline".
The letter arrived one winter's day,
Weeks after she heard he was MIA.
And her tears stained the page as she read,
For in her heart she knew that he was dead.
He had disappeared without a trace;
Lost somewhere in that God forsaken place.
The Army said he might not be found,
So an empty box was placed in the ground.
Then she tried to move on with her life,
And she became a mother and a wife.
But each year she visited his tomb,
Around the time the flowers were in bloom.
This went on for nearly thirty years;
Yet no amount of time could dry her tears.
She would pray beside his empty grave:
"How could this be the fate of one so brave?"
Then one day, in nineteen ninety nine,
A phone call sent a shiver down her spine.
While breaking ground just south of Hung Yen,
Some workers found the bones of seven men.
One of those men was her soldier boy,
And after he was shipped back from Hanoi,
They honored each MIA who served,
Then buried him the way that he deserved.
If you call America your home,
From Tampa to Oahu and to Nome.
Don't forget the men still MIA.
And pray to God that they come home one day.
(In Tudu Hospital in the former Saigon,
several hundred dead babies have been
preserved in formaldehyde. They are
hideously deformed as a result of their
mothers having been contaminated by
Agent Orange, a chemical diffused in
Vietnam as part of the American military
offensive, Operation Ranch Hand.)
Things To Do
Everything's sterile. The quiet reek
of formaldehyde seeps from neat shelves.
Tall glass jars, the size of mega-buckets
of Colonel's chicken, line the walls
floor to ceiling. Let's take a look, friend.
Downtown Hanoi, at a loose end,
we'll see the sights.
But they won't see us.
These fetuses and newborn babes
gaze out uncomprehending,
the faintest hint of surprise
darkening their big bug eyes.
Here, a head is elongated like squash.
There, a tongue cascades from a mouth
to fuse with a sternum. Tiny heads
hone to a point, like someone tried
to put them through a pencil-sharpener.
Faces that will never blink look out
and seem to ask, rhetorically,
if this was really meant to be.
By what rule of law or war,
by what technological advance
could it have served somebody's end
to make us monsters,
before we even had the chance
to be born?
SLOW POKES
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
A gut wrenching sight I witnessed this morn
A tragic encounter that left me forlorn
I saw stumbling wrecks of what was strong
Bent over and lame not much time to prolong
They are seniors that once were young
There bodies and minds becoming undone
All at the mercy of changing days
Slow to react in so many ways
Time moves fast and they move slow
Most marking time with no place to go
These are the folks who in previous days
Shouldered the weapons, made incredible plays
Its hard to accept its just history now
She was a riveter, he honored his vow
He piloted a fortress over enemy skies
She sang and danced for a thousand GIs
His fingers froze at place called Chosin
She tended his wounds without and within
He spent a thousand nights as a guest of Hanoi
She packed supplies for search and destroy
These are the stalwarts we’re all about
They did their duty with a winning shout
They’re now suspended in the twilight phase
They keep on serving til the end of their days
It’s a blessing to come from heroes like these
They still say” thank you” and” excuse me please”
Times have changed but they remain loyal and true
Their courage and fidelity made it easy for me and you
So have patience for these slow women and men
Cause its an honor to be in the company of them
A singer in search of a song
Discovered that they were all wrong
Whatever she sang
Was like a bell rang
And everyone flashed her their dong
There’s a small lake in the center of Hanoi,
you need a guide to find it;
the tail of a B-52 bomber lies, still; there,
50 years or more:
shot out of the night sky,
and fell its tons, while red hot metal announced
its glowing heavy arrival
people were eating, around, and the mass
and the weight emptied the small lake of fish
and most of the water
what a splash!
Our leaders who are Caucasians
On some previous occasions
Would A-bomb Japan
And Viet Nam hides tan
But hate all bias against Asians
Author's comment: Hate crime is always bad. Here's an idea for a political cartoon:
Frame 1: Truman and advisors celebrate the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki with laughter and joy even though those targets were not military and innocent civilians died.
Frame 2: LBJ and Nixon celebrate with the military and their suppliers over dropping bombs on Hanoi.
Frame 3: The same people claim outrage after any act of violence against an asian here.
Rice paddy wakes up ready to be planted.
Where are those lazy farmers?
Snicker laughs. Nothing lazy about them.
They are the most cheerful workers she knows
She feels swampy today, colder than usual
The plow is heading her way,
She can see it a bit past the tiered fields
Golden streams snaking through tall verdant grasses
She waves, but pointed bamboo hat man does not see
He is getting older, slower,
He does not bend as long over her as he used to
Gets more angry about the menacing rats too
Losing his grip in some ways
She learned that her sake is a hit in the west
No surprise to her.
Japan, Hanoi and Vietnam love it, don’t they?
She has heard old coolie brag about her rice, more than any other paddy.
Rice Paddy watches him turn the plow over to his son
Son is lazy. Should be getting plow himself. Spends too much time over nothing.
How will she fare when Old Man Farmer is no longer of this world?
She bows to him as he enters her waters, knowing she will miss him terribly.
The Man She Buried
She buried her husband decades ago
He died fighting a needless war
Held prisoner for so many years
He wrote to her every day
Yet, she never heard a word
Her two children never knew their father
They were told stories
But, they never knew for sure
Over time she lived her life
As he became a distant memory
The a day came when a canvas bag arrived
A thousand letters were poured onto the floor
Each one was sent from a cage in Hanoi
Addressed to her, but never sent
She read each one through tear-filled eyes
And as the last letter was put back in the envelope
She fell in love one again
And again she mourned the man she buried so long ago
As a child, men of science warned me.
About the coming of a second ice age.
They flashed pictures of stomping mastodons,
hungry saber-tooth cats.
Giant sloths with enormous claws.
I was all in and took quick action.
I learned how to build an igloo.
By stuffing snow into hollow plastic blocks.
I sharpened the end of dozens of sticks.
To do battle with the giant cats and mastodons.
Now, Bill Nye, Mr. Gore and Hanoi Jane.
Shake a crooked finger
Warn of global warming and biblical flooding.
I'm taking them seriously.
So, I'm stockpiling tuna fish, beer and seed.
And building a tiny ark just for three.
As I'll never have two of everything.
There's only the cat, an olive-eyed dove and me.
1. To Fly
My father was an admiral, and so
I joined the Navy. Back in fifty-eight
to be a pilot seemed the way to go:
ship-sailors were committed to a crate.
Scrub decks? Paint rusting gunwales? That’s a ‘no’.
The Skyhawk was my weapon (and my fate!)
2. Rubicon Crossing
Some nations follow rainbows, I am told:
we thought, in Vietnam, ‘search and destroy’
would lead us to our fabled pot of gold.
For years we tried it, but it brought no joy:
we lost our nerve, and switched to ‘clear and hold’.
Saigon endured the selfsame end as Troy.
3. Brainwash
The Hanoi Hilton. Yes, I was a guest.
They found my father was a VIP,
and left off hurting me. Impressed,
they wanted to restore my liberty.
But if I left my buddies, I’d detest
myself. I turned them down. That’s decency!
4. Frozen Side of the Sun
Should politicians simply sing the song?
A woman voter told me, in the hall,
Obama was a Muslim. I said, “Wrong!”
I guess I lost her vote. I made the call
I knew was the correct one. I was strong.
Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all.