poems of the vietnam era

[fabboss]

These are poems and other items i copied (most from the SEA TIGER newspaper) where I was smart enough to copy the authors name I have included it and some were in the Sea tiger anomously. But hope you enjoy.




A TEENAGE WAR
Yes, he may be just a kid of eighteen
But if you only knew the horror of war
His eyes have seen.
To lose his youth and become a man
To fight for the right to live free in his
own home land.
With the laughter of draft-dodgers
And protesters going through his mind.
He stands tall for what's right,
And the freedom of mankind.
To bring forth the enemy's blood
Before the can spill his guts in the mud.
To be cold, wet, and at times hungry,
So the people of his own home land
Can stay safe and have freedom in their country-
But the time will pass and again some day.
He'll return to the good old U.S.A.
He will bow his head to no other man
For he earned the title of American in Vietnam.

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"Lamentation"

It's hot,
Lord!
And my rifle weighs a ton,
I'd like to lay it down,
Lord,
And climb in a refrigerator,
And close the door,
I'd like to be cool and dry
For a change
Instead of always
Sweaty.

And my Feet!
Lord!
I've been sloshing around
In the boondocks so long
My feet feel like sponges
Lord
I'd give five bucks for a drink
Of ice water,
This warm bilge in my canteen
Don't do diddley
For my thirst.
And this damned pack!
Lord
If I had a dime
For every mile I've lugged this thing,
I could buy a yacht
And sail home>
Home.
Lord,
How I'd like to be there right now
With my girl
And my Mom
Instead of sitting in this stinking ditch.
A million miles from nowhere.
Why am I here anyway?
Why me?
Lord?
Oh I guess I know.
Down deep I know why I'm here,
I'm here to hold fifty yards of terrain,
Because if I don’t hold it who will?
If they crack our line here,
Lord,
What then?
Well, they won’t crack it.
Not with me here, they won't
Lord,
I hope.
And Tomorrow
I may have to go
And take fifty more yards from them.

…. Listen!
Oh Lordy, Lord?
Here they come again?
It's going to get pretty hot
Around here
In a few seconds,
Lord,
Help me to hold
And to live,
Please
Lord…..

Author unknown



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VALHALLA

They're dirty, St. Peter, they smell of sweat,
Clothes they've been wearing for weeks are wet,
With jungle mud stink and rice paddy slime.
Snipers and mortars left them no time
To shower and shave for the pass-overdue-
High command orders caught unaware too.
Now the line waits for the gate to swing wide.
Each wondering how he will fare inside.
Some smiling, some still with the same worried frown
He was wearing when death came hurtling down.
Grimy boys lined up for issue of wings
The wide gate opens, they enter like kings
St. Peter acknowledges smart salutes.
Heaven welcomes our sons in mud caked boots.



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He Returned

What could he say to the fatherless son
And what could he say to the sonless father.
After returning from that land with only one hand
Yet thanking God with all his might
For the gift of his continued life.
While others' fathers cousins and brothers
Will never return to their long suffering mothers.



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MY GOD HOW CAN IT BE.

My God, how can it be that one boy lies rotting
from malnutrition and torture in a jungle prison camp
and another boy spits and tramples on the flag of his
country in the steps of a university of California.

That one boy lies sightless in a U.S. Naval Hospital
from wounds received in the face by communists
and another boy wears a communist flag in drape
himself in defiance of the laws of this country.

That one man of medicine begins his thirteenth
straight hour standing over an operating table in
pursuit of life for men serving his country.
And another man of medicine implores groups
of young men to refuse to serve their country.

That one Negro holds the face of his dead white
comrade in his arms and cries pitifully in a dirty
foxhole in Vietnam. While another Negro screams
with hate against his white brother on the streets
of countless American cities.

That one boy lies in a coffin beneath the ground
because he believed in duties to his country, and
another boy lies on a dirty cot giving blood to the
enemies of his country.

That one man of God shields a wounded boy from
an enemy bayonet with his body and dies.
And another man of God uses his cloth as a
shield to preach hate, dissension and lawlessness.

From the Sea Tiger 12 July 1968.


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The Brave
The war grows long
The heart grows weary
The endless days
Are ever dreary.

It's a dirty war, son
Cruel, mean, and hot.
Yes Ma'am, I know Ma'am
But it's the only one I've got.

So fight on Marine
For what it's worth
You are the hero's
Of this earth.

Let your spirit be a banner
Long may it wave
For those who shall follow
The path of the brave.

Author unknown.


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WIRELESS
She stands supported by the bar,
Holding a drink limply in her hand.
The beauty of her long blond hair and
Tall slim body is enhanced by the soft,
dim glow of the red and green lights.

His body is sore and aches as the sweat
Oozes off him from the blazing red sun
beating down.

She watches oblivious and listens to the beating
of the band and the mesmerizing lyrics of "Love Power".

He lies low, rifle in hand
Trying not to hear the mortar fire which,
With each ear – breaking blast approaches;
He thinks of her.

She places her empty glass on the bar which is refilled
And kindly refuses a dance from a bearded long-haired
Man; Man?

He crawls through the thick, scum of the ground
Trying to reach his comrade who lies motionless
in the open field; rifle in hand.

She watches the music-drugged people of her generation;
So oblivious to it all – "Love Power"?

He desperately reaches his comrades who is dead-
Blood, sweat, uselessness. His heart aches and tries
To restrain the sobs which are lodged in his throat.

She accepts a dance from a bearded long-haired man.
His arms hold her tight, his lips brush her neck; she thinks of him.

A shot echoes through the clear hot air –
He lies wounded, bleeding.

She dances close, eyes shut, swaying to the
Lyrics of "Love Power".

He lies close to the ground,
Hot sun beating down,
He thinks of her; he dies.

She sways, held tight by a man, Man?
She stops. She thinks, she knows,
She cries.

By Donna Staresinich
From the Sea Tiger (1968)


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[Sparrowhawk]

What was the name of that other paper published in Nam?

Been trying to think of it, but can't remember?

[thedrifter]

Good Read Fabboss.......

Cook the only one that was given to me was Stars and Stripes.....


Sempers,

Roger