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Why was the choice made
In a jungle so deep
That allowed me to live on
Theirs permanent sleep.
Most days I would switch it
Change the facts of it all
Let them raise their babies
Let me be the 'Wall'.
And I try to do right
By the names left behind
And I write just for them
To slowly unwind.
Looking constantly forward
For cool nights to be
When I understand then
The choices that be.
I would not scream or shed a tear
You know I'm almost a Man.
No need to protect me anymore
No need to hold my hand.
Besides I'd know just what you see
And fight to comprehend.
And stay and fight the battle too
Just you and me in the end.
But this is not for a young man's eyes
Look instead to the setting sun
Walk the river to where it forks
To the stream bed as it runs.
Sit long hours with new found love.
Enjoy your youth so pristine
Run through the fields of meadow flowers
Only in joy may you scream.
But do not ask wherefore I stare
To view my sight when young
I'll try to sheild that view of War
Forever from you Son.
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Ak-rounds can leave a mark
But not a mark like this
Time photo in the minds of men
Left to die
Without a kiss.
I’d rather never see a sun
Than die this lonely death
Walking quietly in the fog
Sucking every breath.
So I made myself a promise
To the Wolf and Eagle too
Visit your Brothers in
Combat arms
They’re dying
Just like you.
And when I fulfilled
That dream of mine
A bond of love was set
Never to be equaled still
Never.. Will I forget!
I no longer call the Arty
I have my own F.O.
He’s with me in the darkness
I know him now as Joe.
And when the tracers lace the night
And piercing screams do rise
I turn to a Bro who’s also a grunt
With memories in his eyes.
And Brother Tom responds to me
With the perfect soldier's sword
I’ll take your point until you heal
My promise
My dying
Word.
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It was just a skirmish or so I’ve been told
not really a War at all
Fought by some rag-tag unpopular sorts
Some black list of names called a “Wall.”
Leave it and let it fade from your past
it’s taking it’s Toll on you
What is this Brotherhood word that you use
Have you nothing better to do?
But those with the questions
and hurried pace life
never in touch with their Heart.
Can’t see the Warrior, can’t feel his touch
Can’t live life
Much less even start.
They cry for their freedom,
then trample the sword,
It is written somewhere
That’s their right.
While the black list of names
And the rag-tag sorts
Remember their Brothers
At night.
If you really want answers
If you really want more.
Live life it’s fullest
After the ‘War.’
You’ll see very quickly
That the price that we paid
Protects all your freedom,
Sacrifices
We made.
But I'll never turn, from the friends left behind
Holding position to scream.
Still sweating in rivulets
that run from my chin
Shaking me still from this dream.
One knee firmly planted in the mud and the rain
For years kept my thumb on the latch.
And You only see past the eyes when they stare
Smell the burning and flaring of thatch.
So I stay to myself and walk on a hill
With nothing there closing me in.
And I'll fight any battle, with you at my side
Stabbing at those who can't win.
And when it is over and nothing is left
And no one to help anymore.
I'll pack up my ruck,
And come down from my hill,
'Our' time to come Home..
From the 'War'!
For as the words poured from this Man
I saw him reaching for my hand.
Not perceptible some think they know
But very apparent to this Bro.
He thought he was the only one
Who had lost more than friends
Laid low by guns.
What he spoke was of lost youth
What I heard,..more than the truth.
The Eagle his talons imbedded in Me
Had protected a Marine
Who now I could see.
No need to worry about what is past
No need to scurry
So quick to the last.
The Eagle at a vantage point high on the hill
Understands life,
As no other will!
With the music cutting through
His soul is lost.. his time is due.
A friend that once stood proud and free
Continues calling just to me.
Why..? did young boys have to die
And others live.....especially I
Why..? the names on blackened 'Walls'
Why..? the cries... Why..? the calls
Whose sons walk and live in horrid strife
To piece together a lonely life.
Why…does every breath of winds
Remind me still
Of all those friends.
Lord carry me now away from this
A touch of passion…in your kiss.
Vietnam.....?…No is not yet through
Until the day
I pay my due.
Infantry
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Who the hell do you think you are
To turn your nose in the air?
And disrespect our freedom flag
By burning with fire! How dare!
Who the hell do you think you are
With your desks of cherrywood?
When there are so many homeless children,
Would you help them if you could?
Who the hell do you think you are
To walk a mile in my tread?
Caked with mud and blood of those
Defending Freedom instead!
Who the hell do you think you are
To have never dropped "the bomb"
That a young man has died in another War…
Then tell that to his Mom!
Who the hell do you think you are
In your three-story fancy home?
Somewhere a Vet with a leg blown off-
A wheelchair of his own!
So, go ahead and ask me once
Just who the hell I am!
I am the Soldier who fought for you!
But do you give a damn??
When the fists grow tight and tears do flow
When you pace the floor with fright
You won't be pacing the floor alone
I'll be there long into night.
When questions fill your thoughts with hurt
When answers seem hard to find
When all you see mirrored in your eyes
Are the friends you left behind…
When loneliness seems a way of life
And insisting you "pay your due",
Please remember it's not your call
The Lord has work for you.
When you want to talk and release the load
When you need someone to "hear"
Not only the hill that shadows the Soldier,
But I as well… am near.
When you need peace and rest within
And nightmares refuse you sleep
When you awake in a drenching sweat
Remember, you're home for keeps.
Vietnam will always be a part of you
That will always be
With Wolf and Eagle by your side
But open your heart to see
No blame is placed on the Soldier still
No need to feel the guilt
There are no answers to the question "Why"
For even a flower must wilt.
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"A rose has thorns that prick the skin,
And violets are too small.
A daffodil does not last long,
And gladiolus way too tall.
White daisies are too colorless,
And peony's hard to last.
Lily's are too delicate,
And gardenias die too fast".
And as the seedling did criticize
Each flower it could be.
It awoke one bright Spring morn
And found itself a weed.
Heed the lesson here my friend
Of the criticizing seed.
Allow yourself to be who you are,
Be a comfort to those in need.
When you see fault in your fellow man,
Is it really fault you see?
Each is unique, just as the flowers -
And deserve love, unconditionally.
Do not pass judgement on one another,
It's not our job, you see.
For if you do, you may wake to find
That you've become a weed.
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