Article 108: Military Property of the United States—Loss, Damage, Destruction
This article applies when a service member damages or destroys military property, which includes government-owned barracks and family housing. The charges depend on the intent and value of the damage.
Negligent damage: If the destruction was the result of a service member's negligence, they can face confinement, forfeiture of pay, or a bad conduct discharge, depending on the value of the damage.
Willful damage: For intentional damage, such as vandalism, the maximum punishment is more severe and could include a dishonorable discharge and up to 10 years of confinement for damage over $1,000.
Representative Brownley
In the conclusion of military members by family are we concluded further by this article?
Why should I add another word
To words already spoke and heard.
Because to say, "The morning web was hung with light."
Is not to say,
"A spider gathered jewels today."
While wishing for that convenient chair
do not arrange answers with presumed prayer.
Wise words in recourse reckoning -
patience preferred and bless-ed beckoning.
Listen, look up until grace
rewards reason with your Father’s face.
Find rest and relief in His embrace.
(works for parking places also)
Assistance for spiritual purification needs attention
in our hearts blessed with kindness
for to restrain our body and mind cleansed without contention
and flourish remotely as not to blindness
gifts given unto us to stay in holy blessedness
that we've acquired through love not to boast
beget me strong with your presence that's not incredulous
maintain my living uncontaminated as is foremost
encourage me to be patient with others who are different
and unlike myself and let me be in tune with them
so as not to become dismayed when it seems efferent
to understand that we're all in this united we come
for to be polished and shiny as a stone
of sparkling white and colored vibrant
and to rise up and convey messages to own
with no sorrow and stature to be in alignment
Flush with falling leaves of rust,
I stand balanced among the dampness of night;
Glittering skies alighting my path.
A chilled repetitive moan of wind
catches the serried strands of my hair,
while frost lightly tickles my frozen face.
The celestial crescent adorning October
surrounds me in a quilted patch of darkness as
the harshness of Winter confrontation draws near.
If at worst I seem
Pray not for hell
Or the heavy beam
Say alls swell
Fight the force
And quell the calm
Without recourse
My love has never been closer.
Unfold your eyes to the hushed glow
That strips your armor.
Oh, our emotional multitudes!
Our quaking desires!
Where does a whisper come from?
Does your head not twitch as the crow's does?
We’re all holy in our being,
Sacred in our existence.
Our blood rushing through
Livid presence.
All being One.
All being Love.
No other recourse.
I seek help from no one else
But Jesus Christ, my Lord an' all.
This daily grind ever fails;
In Christ, I'm free from brawl.
I can't go back to the place of death
From where He snatched me by His blood.
His grace and love are my breath;
From Christ does my life daily bud.
Though I face a stormy gale,
His faithfulness is ever sure.
Though tears make me pale,
In Jesus Christ my face's pure.
He calms great waves by His word,
And floods me with great peace.
In His arms, like a nesting bird,
I bask and glow, unbroken piece.
I arise and shine for Him alone,
And show His love will never dim.
I seek help from heaven's throne
Where Alleluia's my only hymn.
I seek help from no one else,
All I need's in heaven's throne.
A cry of faith that's never false
© 2013
Blow
Blow now, blow
Wind of recourse
Blow
Sweep the thistles off
Their rooted feet
Clear the sharp thorns
Off the fertile farm.
Blow
Blow quickly, blow
Wind of recourse
Blow
Let the millet grow in peace
Without the troubling weed
Let the spinach bloom and spread
Without the piercing nails of the thorns
Blow
Blow hurriedly, blow
Wind of recourse
Blow
Blow across the length
Blow across the breadth
Of this fagging farm
And let the labours not be vain.
Blow
Blow right now, blow
Wind of recourse
Blow
Don’t leave the weed to grow
And share food with precious mustards
What become of the yield?
If the weeds in pride are left to live.
Blow
Blow thither, blow
Wind of recourse
Blow
And let the crops be free
From those hateful weeds
It’s then the farm shall rejoice
Like one with lasting splendour.
Recourse
The old man bends his
knees-
to the graveyard of
speech.
His barren stretched arms
raise up.
Orates the last
of his unpronounced
plea,
for a piece of sky,
for a grip of dust.
Unresolved.
Like that of a master
and his beast
unwilling
to pull the bondage
of labour and grin.
The latter's breath
of unspelled words
reveals a stealth
of cracked soil,
a labyrinth of deep
and shallow wounds-
of the earth. Touch-
me-not grows
and blooms and suckles
from these breasts of hardened
inaudible numbness.
The quiet morning dew,
splinters over the barrow
a thousand bits, a handful of stain.
Gone is the deafening
first flight
of light, salvages, salvages-
a gentle sigh, the slightest
of touch,
from an old and cunning
man, to the silhoutte of
scorched earth; an impasse
between the obvious
and the pale.
A mist is coming off the dishwasher sea,
Noon daylight is wearing thin,
A dormouse rustles last year’s leaves
The village sward shines verdant green
So much is done, so much will come,
So much is still to do!
So, we’ll make a friend of the soft grey dawns
And by light work the long evening through.
© Joe Maverick 08-10-2010
tick. . . tick. . talk the time today
busy a great gather of
basketed flowers
that might move us towards
great outlawed-metered parked cars
ticketing themselves
and twist. . . twist your fire-hydrant wrist
while the streets look the other way
simple lack-luster
awaits your perceptive 50’s point of view
but it’s all the daughters that decide
off which part of concrete to part with
and wake up
in which car to ride in
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