Heart In The Wall

Folder: 
Viet Nam Pieces

       The "Taps",   for  'Nam-vets



(to the tune "Taps", repeated middle-phrase)







Duty  Called

            And We Went.

                        Never Doubting The Cause

                                                We Just Went;

And we'll Never Come Home,

    So Remember Your Men,

         Who Were Lost And Alone,

               And Who Still Bear Their Wound;

                    We're Your Sons Who Are Gone........



In  Viet  Nam.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



That  WALL

written with tears,

etched by our blood.



Black slit, ugly gash, oozing whore-hole!! : :

You see names; I hear cries;

you see stone; I see flak-jackets;

you feel cool granite; I remember cold sticky blood;

DON'T ASK ME TO COME SEE IT!!

Oh!, GOD, how can they TOUCH IT!!!

We paid and paid, and STILL pay!

More than any granite-price!!

It's just SO  SAD  what they did to us!





Today we seem men;

we were just boys then.

We stand and cry here

(some did

some didn't

some can't come yet.)

We look with hundred-year-old-stares.

How can we unremember?

When will it become forgettable?

Only when we are ALL gone.





I hope you never try to tell me

what color are the ripples

in an ocean of blood.



What do rain-drops really tase like

now that I am here to taste them,

and not  THERE, where I had no choice.

Here I do the same as there:

one-step-at-a-time,

keep moving,

don't look

back.



Oh!, how I want it to be

like I was   N E V E R   THERE!!



Never come up behind me unless you make a lot of noise.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



"It Is An Honor"

they told us.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~



At night

it still settles over me

I hardly realize it

It doesn't seem like pain

It is a lot like grief

I did not feel it sweep

It did not creepily creep

I awake in the mornings

It is sitting there

cold, dull, sullen, dark, grinning

sitting, brooding, weighing my chest

its talons sunk deep

in the middle of my heart:

memory.







c  1970    trexx







Sound / smells of metals:

breech slamming in on hot brass!

bolt repeating Death! : :



Repetetivly screaming

Death!!  Good-bye!!  Good-bye!!  Go die!!





I saw the tigers.

I knew their prey.

I saw them come

and carry men away.





I fed the tigers.

I can't forget.

They'll come

Author's Notes/Comments: 

They asked me to speak at "The Wall" ceremony;  I wonder if they had  THIS  in mind.

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