Short Barracks Poems

Listen to poem:

Behind a fence, the barracks,
the grim barracks,
but the barracks are no more.
Their domes were like an onion,
stealing the great show.

Julie went to see them in 1939,
but much after, no, soon after,
grim barracks were no more...
The onion domes don't mystify:
there's only mist to show.





6/21/2016...

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Bodies all dusted.
Choices all busted.
Voices all gusted.
Rights all rusted.
The schools like barracks.
The play fields like Graveyards.
Buried all freedom lied in the backyards.
Speaking a word here  brings you thousand hazards.
Calling themselves doves are all Jeopard's.
with due regards to all nationalistic retards.
I want to say that Free Kashmir is on the cards....

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Red ,dark barracks,is where fight meet
Can you stand in spite of retreat?
You can't see the youngster near the
Monster,thus his power on the mighty
Tower
When they go out of fear,they still
Need the use of gear,so
When the time comes,life will
One day be like drums
The barracks are a station of will,
And the act of drill
From that comes the conclusion ,the
Fact of a barrack...

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Thunderous clap barracks
A resounding yell…
On the red carpet of fame
Snap! Snap!! Snap!!!
Camera lights and flashes blinks
In illumination of a star…

From a pogue's roar came a stunning speech
Once jeered to fail by unstable frienemies-
Scorned by the die-hard fans and cursed upon
Till failure beget victory, it became known that -
Success has a voice, the voice of failure!...

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They are drinking beer in huge mugs
Like the world is ending tomorrow
Toying with the lovely ladies
Rounds are easily exchanged

Tasting the fleeting peace
Every grain of it savored
For tomorrow they might
Be required to take up arms

Enters the Military police
Then they all leave quietly
Entering the military vehicle
Departing towards the barracks




CODE 254
(private command center)...

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Maybe the old toad was right,
There really is nothing to be said
As a magpie picks its way along
Crumbling bricks which do little to conceal
Barracks demolished without a fight.
What once was alive is now dead,
Memories echoing like the last chord of a song
Beautiful resonance before they congeal
Revealing the uncomfortable truth that
One day it will be us.
Every moment, proud or painful
Will be forgotten in time....

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on rolling hills they were laid
given a tomb stone and honored grave
up right and at attention
all standing in formation
on peaceful and silent hills 
they laid
in rows, government issued graves
a place to stay until Resurrection Day
a place with a Name, on visitors day
a place to put flowers
or drop tears on a grave
they lie there waiting, still serving
as hero's are laid
on the rolling hills of Jefferson Barracks
cemetery they lay...

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on rolling hills they were laid
given a tomb stone and honored grave
up right and at attention
all standing in formation
on peaceful and silent hills 
they laid
in rows, government issued graves
a place to stay until Resurrection Day
a place with a Name, on visitors day
a place to put flowers
or drop tears on a grave
they lie there waiting, still serving
as hero's are laid
on the rolling hills of Jefferson Barracks
cemetery they lay...

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Fingers

They used to translate the war 
for a newspaper;
My fingers
Filled with the dead.
They are tasteless in bed.


The fingers that cross 
Over the breasts at night
Are the same fingers that pull 
A trigger, 
Write reports 
And open prison gates.


Fingers that left their prints  
On a bus near the Zawra Gardens 
And on a rusted gun
At the Rashid Barracks
Have filled with snow;
With letters that cannot write from the left....

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Fingers

They used to translate the war 
for a newspaper;
My fingers
Filled with the dead.
They are tasteless in bed.


The fingers that cross 
Over the breasts at night
Are the same fingers that pull 
A trigger, 
Write reports 
And open prison gates.


Fingers that left their prints  
On a bus near the Zawra Gardens 
And on a rusted gun
At the Rashid Barracks
Have filled with snow;
With letters that cannot write from the left....

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"He went over the hill, Sergeant."
"Are you sure, did you search the barracks?"
"Yes, only personal possessions are missing.
Photographs, cd's...that kind of stuff."
"I was so sure this one had the right stuff, Sergeant, 
and would go the distance."
"There is no such thing as a sure thing. 
You should know that by now."
"File the reports, Private."
"What should I do with what is left?"
"Box it and trash it.  Anything left will not be missed."...

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Dachau

The train rails are gone, the processing center an exhibition. The barracks scrubbed.  

The hanging loops in The shower rooms removed, racks and whipping tables clean and displayed. The execution wall & Blood Ditch grown over, trimmed and landscaped.

“Shower” rooms with gas jets are sealed.  The three-person ovens impervious to the scorn. 
Ash dumps and mass graves covered, and monuments marked. 

Hell has been sanitized for public viewing......

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Have you seen the boobie? Asked Copper Mike to Steve McLiss.
Steve was horrified. Just one? What kind of woman is this?
Not a woman, but a platypus-look-alike, said instigator Mike.
She’s down by the red hibiscus cottage, want to take a hike?

They marched down the path, Steve, all excited ready to see
One boobie, and yet, he saw not one, but three.
And they were blue-footed boobys, not a boobie at all.
He stalked back to his barracks angry, right before mess call....

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In the Shadow of a Moon Shadow
David J Walker

Just yesterday
I was able to reenter the room 
We shared in the barracks overlooking
Ansbach

Like a casual thief in the middle of the day
Taking my time, strolling through the past
As if I belong there now

No one saw and I touched nothing as the 
Intangible apparition in a place that can
Exist only in another time in layered
Memories that lasted until 
The end of the song

In the shadow of a
Moon Shadow 
Then gone...

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How to write about such a thing?

Stalin in his vacation train
across Ukraine to Sochi-
Eating and drinking,
full, talkative.
A smoke or two.
A nap.

And the children in the barracks
wanting only to die outside in the air,
brother clutching sister,
Sister sister.
Bread,
and then nothing.

Oysters, salmon, pork loin,
Steamed vegetables-wine.
He ate what they could not
imagine in a dream.

They dreamed of dying with the clouds.
He of wheat harvested
by skeletons....

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