Long Sargent Poems
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"Road to Lovejoy - Piano for the Self Taught" (Part 2)
His name was
Flight Left-Tennant V.C.Burton,
or "Victor Charlie Bravo", when he
got pulled over by the cops, explaining
"a sherbert or two Lynette, but not on the rocks".
though he makes me spell it
off by heart
“Flight L.I.E.U.T.E.N.A.N.T”.
for spelling it right I get
Lamingtons and a hot Cuppa sugary Tea.
Royal Australian Airforce
(R.A.A.F.) - "R Double A, F"
his current stint,
“Mate! Airforce base with all the big Spitfires
and Jet Fighters, Amberley,"
then later after
"THE" "Event"
(quotation marks hushed reverent tone)...
he asks for posting up the Mountain
7 Stores Depot,
free reign of the "Mess"
where there he is the Commander's Adjutant,
his rank still Flight Left-Tennant...
I think they must be very messy there
and he cleans up all the mess.
"The Yanks say Loo-Tennant!”
he advised in his Sargent Major way -
his pride of course
were the medals
he wore from his Tour of Duty days...
First Regiment into Vietnam
Saigon based, Royal Australian Army
way back-in-the-day.
“We're HOME Nan”, he gently
carries me out of the car
up to bed
from the rented
Airforce Base home's
driveway.
It's no tin shed, it's a flaming Fibro Mansion.
“I’ll get your sisters next,
Cream Buns for Breakfast!
Tomorrow’s Sunday”.
It was Saturday night,
we’d been for a visit down
the mountain to North East
near the Ocean that day
to lay flowers on
HER grave.
“We’ll do Bribie Island another day.
I’ll read you bloody Loose Arabs 3",
this delivered so so not P.C.,
"the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner,
tomorrow night. I’ve had enough
of the Nicene Creed for one day!”.
Piano for the Self Taught? Well,
that’s a story for another
day, something that can’t be
bought.
Priceless in it’s own way.
This is a story of
Love,
“Unconditional” -
the Lovejoy-Burton Way.
...to be continued.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2017 Dec)
1."RoadToLovejoy- (Piano for the Self Taught)"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8dPPtMiwl4
it takes a fox to catch a fox
so tell herod that hillter is dead
Geof Guthner a proud futher more a seduction of the haraalot
purple is the platform as they fuel up nomitated me to s[peak up
as they sneak by i reach for a sylobol
reacher has a quill in his hand
the pen is mightier than the sword Churchill said once
that virtue we are born with
not gaven by our recollection of past lives
even i feel like i died once
i still breathe from the same the life form
dipol belcast greivences are from the kings men
even though he fears the outcome
still he hears their continual cry for Christ return
so as an upright man he signs and seals the production of the firearm
the signet of the queen steals the protest of the englands heirarchy
lovers lanes fort bragg never boast when they sorrow
children this is spoken arappoh George McWashington is a God send
2 days marked om my calender
appreciate the memo look out Trumps back in im in the power
Vocalized it would sound terrible like the understatement of a century
plenty of chymes in the graveyard as they sign the declaration of indepence
bears im not scared of lions are my playpen
the dark should not be feared but prepared for
like a light cast a shadow master sargent Cladiua
i need a expediant assignment of your squad it would take a batallion to kill thgem all
if i gestured and intruced to fort beautiful
she would tell you trigger puller reccomends agents to oprate operation passlode
and blackhawks are no desire to a vitnam veteran
istead use the white wall
blast of passions such as seeing your child bourne
acts of compassions such as God prepares my table in the presence of my enemiea
no i will not feed them
mostly at worse i figurev torture would be more appropiate
lord is the earth gone
does it not live at your mercy
please come and He restores us
hurry is from the devil
as i take time to write this
24 hrs is a timeline
sealions exports merchant marines sheiolds up
blindfolded by shear love
if you love something enough you would let it go
GRIEF....
My name is GRIEF let me introduce myself
I'm here to wreck havoc on your life & take your health
I shall make you feel pain like nothing or no one else
I am the black cloud above the trees
I am the gut wrenching SADNESS that brings you to your knees
Clouding your vision see you can't see
If you have ever had a worst fear here I am it's ME
I start off slowly than rise with debilitating intensity
You won't know what hit you asking whats come over ME?
There's a storm coming & its swirling just like the sea
I dont care wheather or not you agree or didagree
Your opinion dont mean a thing to me
COULD care less Im your new reality
Ive got no time for useless pleasantry
Better recognize I hold the lock and the precious key
Im in charge the Sargent of this infantry
You will be obedient and bow down to me
Your Emptiness will go on for eternity
The circumstance boo hoo such a pity
I'm EVERYWHERE in every town & every City
I'm here to beat u up make you feel nasty and unptetty
I will drive some to drink others to use
What do I care Ive got nothing to lose
I will steal your energy and rob your smile
I will cause u self doubt keep u in denial
No one is safe one day will all will owe
Once I latch onto u its hard to let go
You will try while I taunt you saying "I told ya so"
Im in your every thought every minute of every day
Dont you worry my friend I WILL be back to play
Guaranteed this game is not the one of your choosing
This game your most defiantly will be losing
I doesn't show compassion or respect
The job is simple Im here to collect
So give it up dont give a dam your heartbroken and lonely
Time to pay your dues hand it over you OWE me
Don't u worry I came for them I will come for you
There's only one thing you can do
Listen up this is the KEY
but dont say you heard it from ME
Deal with the grief head on and set it free
If not prepare to live your life in agony
And be expecting MANY visits..from..yours Truly
There was a man I once knew.
His name was Norman.
You know how there’s a first for everything?
Well, he was my first.
Despite my visits to the nursing homes with my grandma,
I really didn’t know anything about them.
I had to learn what an Ombudsman was.
Despite having a little one,
I had to learn how to properly tend to people.
At the time, I was a virgin in every sense of the word but one.
I knew nothing.
I knew of no one.
I was made to keep my head down and learn.
Ask questions, but don’t argue.
I saw you there.
I would walk with you around your bedroom.
Somehow you changed bedrooms.
I was so happy to see you.
I was sad for your condition though.
All the hurts would spill forth from your dry, chapped lips.
Believe me, you had a lot of hurts.
It’s as if you’ve spent years in a trench.
Weren’t you a World War veteran?
You’d know what I’m talking about.
How people would get holes in their bodies?
I saw a lot of painful holes.
Oozing, goopy, gooey and painful holes.
You endured so much.
When you finally fell into an eternal sleep,
When I finally saw you in your black body bag,
As you were being rolled along the hallway,
I couldn’t help but feel like you’ve had a good, long life.
Until that moment,
I once again referred to myself as the medical virgin.
That was my very first time.
No, not with death in general,
But with being that close to a person’s final moments.
I would watch and wait patiently.
You would scream in agony.
Those deep, dark holes couldn’t have been good.
They oozed a smelly liquid.
I don’t take offense.
This was always something I never had to learn.
I’m the type who would talk about poop at the dinner table.
From that moment on,
I knew I was in for quite the adventure.
Mr. Norman.
Sir. Captain. General. Sargent. Colonel.
Whatever you were,
Father. Grandfather.
You were my first.
1862
TWAS IN THE SUMMER OF '62
WHEN MEN WORE GRAY
AND OTHERS BLUE
WHEN SOUNDS OF MIGHTY BATTLES RAGED
AS WAR BETWEEN THE STATES WAS WAGED
OH WHAT YOUNG MEN WERE WE
FULL OF LIFE AND FANCY FREE
BOASTING HOW WE’D WIN THE WAR
A DAY OR TWO, NOT ANY MORE
AND ON THIS DAY WE START OUR VENTURE
MARCHING TOWARD OUR GREAT ADVENTURE
ALL DAY WE WALKED ON DUSTY ROADS,
THE SWEAT ON BROW FROM HEAVY LOADS
THEN DAYS END ON THE RIVER BANKS
WE FINALLY CAMPED AND GAVE OUR THANKS
STORIES WERE TOLD AS THE PICKETS PATROLLED
THE SARGENT WAS THERE
SOME GRAY IN HIS HAIR
THE SCARS ON HIS FACE
SO EASY TO TRACE
AND SO WAS A BOY
JUST 15 NO MORE
HE ASKED THE SARGENT
JUST WHY WE’RE AT WAR
THE SARGENT LOOKED UP
WITH A COLD MILKY EYE
AND SAID SON I’LL TELL YOU
AND IT WON’T BE A LIE
THE STARE SO INTENSE
THAT CAME FROM HIS EYES
HIS VOICE STAYING SOFT
HIS WORDS WERE SO WISE
WHEN SOULS OF ALIKE
ARE NO LONGER TOGETHER
WHEN ALL TALKING STOPS
LIKE YESTERDAY’S WEATHER
WHAT ONCE WAS FORBEARANCE
THAT THEN TURNS TO HATE
WILL TAKE A GREAT MANY
TO THE DEVILS OWN GATE
WAR IS A THING SON
IN WHICH WE ALL SIN
WAR IS A THING
NOT TO BE IN
WAR IS A WORD
THERE IS NO DELIGHT
TONIGHT WE’LL HAVE PEACE
AND TOMORROW WE’LL FIGHT
TOMORROWS THE DAY
HE SAID WITH THAT STARE
WHEN BOYS BECOME MEN
AS SOULS BECOME BARE
YOU’LL KNOW WHO YOU ARE
IF YOU LIVE THROUGH THE DAY
YOU’LL KNOW WHAT YOU ARE
BY THE MEN THAT YOU SLAY
WHO AM I THOUGHT I
ON THAT WARM SUMMER NIGHT
MY SENSE OF IMMORTAL
HAD NOW TURNED TO FRIGHT
AND AS IT TURNED OUT
I WAS NOT SO ALONE
A CHILL RAN THROUGH ALL
RIGHT DOWN TO THE BONE
AND SO THE DAY ENDED
NOT AS IT BEGAN
OUR THOUGHTS NOW SUSPENDED
OUR WILL NOT SO GRAND
NOT ONCE COULD I SLEEP
NOT EVEN A YAWN
IN FEAR DID TIME CREEP
THE MINUTES TO DAWN
EL JALEO
school outing …
prep school day trip -
the Isabella Gardner Museum, Boston …
I round a corner inside,
a sunny courtyard to my left
ahead, an exquisite scalloped arch
sculpted columns on each end
and beyond, softly lit ...
- I gasp, air sucked from my lungs
in the literal sense
my hand clutches my chest,
knees wobbling ...
noticing, someone asks if I'm okay
"physically, yes ... thank you"
(when my breath finally returns)
blown as a mind can be, I'm transfixed
minutes pass, then hours ...
tranquil water, am I -
no ripples, no vacillations
no concern of what’s taking place around me
an entire multi-floor museum -
exceeding artistic genius on every wall
yet the bulk of my day is spent ... right there
entirely and utterly spellbound …
light, dance, music
romance, color, shadow, laughter -
every motion and emotion, churning
I can hear the guitars, the clack of her shoes
feel the heat of el club nocturna, pressing
mind spinning with the feigned haze of absinthe
the waft of cigar smoke and perfume
words stir deep inside me
wound in phrases I can not speak
phrases and fires unknown and unspoken …
and unquenched …
I am but a child -
in the presence of The Divine
frozen to my marrow by the bloom of
resplendent brilliance
my soul, a chaotic milieu of terrifying beauty
and all I can manage,
all I can do ...
is breathe.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Creativity In Visual Arts" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
* This happened when I was fourteen ... art became very real to me that day, as did the phrase "divine Inspiration", thanks to the painting above, by John Singer Sargent. If you've ever seen it in person, (or SO many others!), you know whereof I speak. (Above image is slightly compressed). *
I Remember -by Trevor McLeod
The soldiers gathered at the wreath I remember.
The coffin covered just beneath I remember.
The poppies at the corner store I remember.
The amputees the coins were for I remember.
The fighters flying through the sky I remember.
The trail of red to catch the eye I remember.
The bombers at the airport strip I remember.
The radar with the foreign blip I remember.
The sailors with the semaphore I remember.
The air raids to incoming horror I remember.
The sailors with the folded flags I remember.
The victims to their body bags I remember.
The granite tomb to seal them in I remember.
The sign outside to say we win I remember.
The cemeteries many stones I remember.
The flowers growing through their bones I remember.
The bugle player playing taps I remember.
The Sargent Major never claps I remember.
The crosses planted by their head I remember.
The helmets hanging off for dead I remember.
The Legion playing in the band I remember.
The drummer pausing for a stand I remember.
The legion drinking in the hall I remember.
The stories being shared by all I remember.
The rifles firing twenty-one I remember.
The bullets deafening to the gun I remember.
The widows left at home alone I remember.
The women of the bombs been blown I remember.
The cannon shot to send the ball I remember.
The powder black to scare us all I remember.
The poem we know as Flanders Field I remember.
The author killed within it's yield I remember.
The unknown soldier questioned who I remember.
The final words our thanks to you I remember.
The soldiers gathered at the wreath I remember.
The coffin covered just beneath I remember.
The poppies at the corner store I remember.
The amputees the coins were for I remember.
The fighters flying through the sky I remember.
The trail of red to catch the eye I remember.
The bombers at the airport strip I remember.
The radar with the foreign blip I remember.
The sailors with the semaphore I remember.
The air raids to incoming horror I remember.
The sailors with the folded flags I remember.
The victims to their body bags I remember.
The granite tomb to seal them in I remember.
The sign outside to say we win I remember.
The cemeteries many stones I remember.
The flowers growing through their bones I remember.
The bugle player playing taps I remember.
The Sargent Major never claps I remember.
The crosses planted by their head I remember.
The helmets hanging off for dead I remember.
The Legion playing in the band I remember.
The drummer pausing for a stand I remember.
The legion drinking in the hall I remember.
The stories being shared by all I remember.
The rifles firing twenty-one I remember.
The bullets deafening to the gun I remember.
The widows left at home alone I remember.
The women of the bombs been blown I remember.
The cannon shot to send the ball I remember.
The powder black to scare us all I remember.
The poem we know as Flanders Field I remember.
The author killed within it's yield I remember.
The unknown soldier questioned who I remember.
The final words our thanks to you I remember.
~Two different legends - one stating that lovers who passed under The Bridge of Sighs to kiss at the moment the sun
set and the bells tolled would forever be in love, the other (instilled by Lord Byron) that the bridge received it's name
from the sighs of prisoners who passed under it for the last time on the way to their execution~
Perhaps The Bridge of Sighs becomes to each
a haven or the last to bid fare well
as happiness in channels seem to reach
the prisoner, the lover's hearts to quell
A last to Venice sunsets to elate
A last epitome to wishers well
the bells to toll, a kiss and then to wait
as lovers see forever in their eyes
the buildings seem to breathe and contemplate
with curiosity to passers by
as Sargent captured blue under the bridge
so to the prisoners do let a sigh
to know full well the weight of what they did
would leave lagoons and islands with a glimpse
to execute they glide the waters bid
and lose the soothe of sunsets in a wince
as lovers pass into forever more
the other holds the key to recompense
Perhaps the Bridge of Sighs is either or
to Venice skies a promise or a curse
as under pass sweet love or prisoner
reciting under breath this very verse
as mist and darkness break under the bridge
we wait to see which one emerges first.
As the suicide bomber detonates himself at a roadside check
I wait for my coffee machine's light to turn green and beep
Carnage unfolds after all bits of shrapnel finish their courses
I add my spoonful of local honey to suppress my allergies
One of homeopathic medicine's simplest of analogies
Gunnery Sargent Patton's mind lays out in the desert's hot sun
I watch the milk swirl as it is added in contrast to coffee black
Corpsman Green drags himself to the moans of Private Daily
I blow the steam away as it rises from my most favored mug
The warmth is as savored as the aroma, as my cold hands hug
Private Daily's leg was removed when the Humvee separated
I have woken up an hour late and will be reprimanded for it
Green's tourniquet above Daily's bloody nub does not hold
My boss is younger than I am and was hired by his cousin
Indignation's towards him have now exceed multiple dozen
Daily dies looking into the eyes of Green who gets sniped
I watch out the window as a light snow falls to the ground
Green's head hits sand and lands on a chunk of Patton's brain
Inclement weather is the beast of burden that haunts commuting
My Hummer H2 idles in traffic as it is perpetually polluting