September’s song sings of the last
days of summer’s madcap affair
of lazy days and moonlight’s cast
on dancing in the midnight air
being together as a pair
September reminds of time past
when sunshine felt a sudden pall
we tried to make the sunshine last
but the boys heeded war time's call
they left when leaves began to fall
There’s sadness in September’s name
The crowded beach then could not last
with empty spaces not the same
September comes and soon is past
Its memories remain too vast.
I still love summer’s grand allure.
But September I can’t endure DHR
my dad's dad would tell him tales
from the war
so many strangers who fought
stories from ordinary men
who washed up heroes on the shore
he told my father
they were sold a dream
a golden scene
they'd save the world
at only nineteen
but no
that wasn't the case
bullets flew by overhead
like the planes dropping bombs
on unsuspecting nurses
preparing the beds at base
horrific
soul destroying, with men deploying
for politicians trying to save face
horrific
Peaceful battles fought
With no enemy aside,
Friends you trust never.
Wartime of peace
Moments of joyous sorrow:
Jolt of the mire.
A race for life,
A ring with no boxers,
Bout of no sense.
Wartime of peace
Is a seasonal murder:-
No foes in sight.
I was a good Buddhist jack tar,
Confident to sail this ocean of time alone,
All desire renounced and stowed away
Like smuggled cargo I pretend is legal trade.
I was well-practiced in the art of navigating perils,
Steering clear of revenue cutters, hostile native islanders,
And other such threatening complications.
Now has a typhoon struck that threatens contentment,
The swells have made me dizzy
And my sea legs seem uncertain
As I ride Poseidon’s roller coaster sick as a lubber,
An unlucky smuggler caught in the act
Of feeling long dormant desires stage mutiny
And relieve me of command of my senses,
Lusting after that other salty wonder.
Gunfire and grave sites pepper the hillsides,
trucks with ammo taking position.
We have visas, fake I.D.s besides,
men in disguise infiltrate battle lines.
Heard about Houston, heard about Detroit?
fierce conflagrations abroad on the air,
eyes blinded 'til we can barely see,
taking shots, swallowing pills.
Will we ever see the end,
have we gone beyond the limit,
can we ever return to a peaceful trend
must we continue to murder and maim?
The world's gone haywire,
mistrusting our brother,
lusting after one another,
we're tapping phone lines
running road blocks, this ain't no party,
manipulating computers, a sign of the times.
...an homage to Talking Heads
and their song with the same title.
********
Gunfire and grave sites pepper the hillsides,
trucks with ammo taking position.
We have visas, fake I.D.s besides,
men in disguise infiltrate battle lines.
Heard about Houston, heard about Detroit,
heard about Pittsburgh PA?
fierce conflagrations abroad on the air,
eyes blinded 'til we can barely see,
the sky is thick with startled sparrows.
Will we ever see the end,
so much more of the same,can we no longer see around the bend,
must we continue to murder and maim?
The world's gone haywire,
mistrusting our brother,
lusting after one another,
we're tapping phone lines
running road blocks, this ain't no party,
manipulating computers, a sign of the times.
...an homage to Talking Heads
and their song with the same title.
********
Gunfire and grave sites pepper the hillsides,
trucks with ammo taking position.
We have visas, fake I.D.s besides,
men in disguise infiltrate battle lines.
Heard about Houston, heard about Detroit,
heard about Pittsburgh PA?
fierce conflagrations abroad on the air,
eyes blinded 'til we can barely see,
the sky is thick with startled sparrows.
Will we ever see the end,
so much more of the same,
can we no longer see around the bend,
must we continue to murder and maim?
The world's gone haywire,
mistrusting our brother,
lusting after one another,
we're tapping phone lines
running road blocks, this ain't no party,
manipulating computers, a sign of the times.
...an homage to Talking Heads
and their song with the same title.
********
Gunfire and grave sites pepper the hillsides,
trucks with ammo taking position.
We have visas, fake I.D.s besides,
men in disguise infiltrate battle lines.
Heard about Houston, heard about Detroit,
heard about Pittsburgh PA?
fierce conflagrations abroad on the air,
eyes blinded 'til we can barely see,
the sky is thick with startled sparrows.
Will we ever see the end,
so much more of the same,
can we no longer see around the bend,
must we continue to murder and maim?
The world's gone haywire,
mistrusting our brother,
lusting after one another,
we're tapping phone lines
running road blocks, this ain't no party,
manipulating computers, a sign of the times.
They fought with grit to save the nation,
From poverty, squalor and infidelity,
And when they marched it was the Nazi’s or them,
Who would suffice to keep their dignity.
The Second was really over the same as the First:
The freedom and equality that democracies offer;
Hitler was not to rule the freethinking lands,
Which representative governments quietly did proffer.
Their Ladies’ which, it was said, almost flew themselves,
Were engineered by women as superior planes;
Through dogfight and bullet, over occupied territories -
The pilots exploded German ammunition trains.
Rhoda Monihan
You would've labeled it a shotgun wedding,
if you'd seen how we rushed it,
snagging the license on Friday morning
and exchanging vows that same evening.
No white dress, no people-packed pews,
simply a long drive in my brother's Chevy,
from St. Louis to Morse Mill, Missouri;
that July day burned into our memories
at a hundred four degrees, no A/C,
and a flat tire on the road to the church.
Uncle Vernon officiated
in a less-than-five-minute ceremony.
You mean that's it? Is this legal?
I certainly didn't feel married!
"They'll think you're pregnant,"
my mother said. No chance of that,
with our entire courtship advanced
solely through airmail letters.
He was marked for Japan,
courtesy of the U. S. Air Force.
Only death or instant wedlock
were valid pleas for allowing leave.
We hadn't clapped lips together in 10 months.
When he called, I said yes,
and we had the shotgun wedding,
without the gun.
It is the time for war,
The world shakes as the lion roar,
I can imagine what it must be like,
When you look around and see your friends die,
There will be no time to feel bad,
No time to feel sad,
You struggle to survive,
You run for your life,
Without looking back,
cos now the back has become the past.
We don't need war,
Peace and harmony we need more.
Moments to tell the truth
Moments to still tell lies
What do you prefer
The time god
Decides if you should live or die
The time when you kill
And not to feel the guilt
This is war
Some think its great
Others think its hell
People getting
Shot or stabbed
This is war
They march in the shadows
In the streets or fields of battle
This is war
We wear our medals
Proud to be alive
Holding little burning candles
For the ones who died
This is war
To the right or left
We will fight to the death
Till the edge of the world
Comes to a rest
This is war
We come home to our families
Tears in our eyes
Just so happy
To see there smiling faces
We kiss and hug
Making sure everything is alright
Then we say goodnight
For the day has come to a rest
This is war
We will always have
The memories of others
Until one day
We will see them again
In the light of shimmering candles
He stole a gun today,
a telescopic rifle made for hunting.
From a sixth floor window overlooking Main
he thinks, 'how cool!' that the 'scope brings
the people on the street so close and focused.
He spends all day breaking down
the gun and re-assembling it,
polishing each part until it gleams.
He fits the telescope,
lifts the weapon to his shoulder
for just another look.
He'll bide his time until it's rush hour.
The streets will be teeming with people
making that last minute dash to get
last minute presents for Christmas.
The time has come, his palms are moist.
In the cross-hairs a Salvation Army captain,
a pregnant woman on a cell phone,
an old man struggling with his walker,
and children, lots of children.
A half-hour passes.
he slowly lowers the rifle
and puts it back into its case.
A half-hour passes
and he stumbles down the stairwell
to the street, his mind confused and torn.
Crossing a bridge he stops
to hurl the case into the river.
He wanders slowly home
to his studio apartment,
his haven of forgetfulness,
his pressed and perfect Ranger uniform
and wonders why he just cannot stop crying.
He stole a gun today...
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