1985
The righteous shall rejoice when he seeth
the vengeance; he shall wash his feet in
the blood of the wicked. Psalm 58
It was the fortieth year since Buchenwald: two thousand
Jewish refugees in Sudan starved while Reagan visited
the graves of Nazis. CBS paid off Westmoreland
for their rude disclosure of his lies and crimes:
he had killed thirty of the enemy, let’s not forget,
for every one lost us: he was owed something.
That year, though, no terrorist could touch God’s work
in Mexico and north of Bogota: an earthquake here,
volcano there, and numbers do not signify the dead,
each corpse incomprehensible as to the widow Klinghoffer
her Leon, shot, dumped overboard as if to make a point.
Westmoreland said, the Viet Cong could be indentified
from the attacking aircraft as all personnel in uniform
below. Their uniform, he told us, was the native dress.
poem by Brooks Haxton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
We moved in to help the Vietnamese defend their country and confront the Viet Cong.
quote by William Westmoreland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It became very clear that Hanoi was in effect strategically running the Viet Cong operation.
quote by William Westmoreland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I do not believe that the men who served in uniform in Vietnam have been given the credit they deserve. It was a difficult war against an unorthodox enemy.
quote by William Westmoreland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man In A Uniform
Oh, she said
(hut!)
She said c man in a uniform
2night thats what I want u 2 be
She said c 3rd time this week u wore that old suit
But I dont give a damn, u see?
Because man in a uniform do funny things 2 me
And I said c its the 3rd time, but I dont mind
Cuz that sister just so damn fine, ah
Man in a uniform (hut!)
Thats what I am
Man in a uniform, uh
Thats what I am
She said c man in a uniform
Sufferin every stroke of my hand
From the dusk until the early morn
U will grant this girls demands (why? )
Cuz she need 2 be drunk with pride
Wait a minute, Im gon tell u why
2 make up, 2 make up
2 make up 4 the emptiness that she feel inside
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Come on
Man in a uniform, mama
Thats what I am (hut!)
(hut!)
Man in a uniform
She said c 2night (2night)
I want your attention (tention)
She said c 2night I want your violent tongue
2 swallow my stench and be loyal 2 me
Shell never be free
Until u do me like a man in a uniform (hut!)
Man in a uniform (in a uniform)
Thats what I am
In a uniform (baby, baby, yeah)
Thats what I am
Dirty little man in a uniform
Thats what I am (hut!)
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Story Of White Man Leading Viet Cong Patrol
The Story of White Man Leading Viet Cong Patrol
-AP Dispatch, Des Moines Register, August 4, 1968
The slain enemy resembled
an American Marine
who was 18 years old
when he disappeared.
The violent episode
was one of the strangest
in this strange war.
*
For a moment
the two young men--
the American Marine
and the white man
in the uniform of the enemy--
stared at each other.
"He had an AK 47
automatic rifle
but he just looked at me."
Gordon fired
after a moment's hesitation.
*
Several of the Marines suspect
that the unknown white man
whom they call "the Caucasian"
could have shot first
but deliberately held fire.
At the debriefing
everyone was afraid
to say what they had seen.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Eric Torgersen
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A Child of Then
I lay down on my living room floor
Convinced that the world would end.
A crisis off Cuba with missiles in route.
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
A lady in pink with blood on her dress.
A President shot in the head
I remember where I was exactly that day
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
Police battle Blacks, Watts is in flames
Protests rage on without end.
King is dead at the hand of a bigoted man
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
Camelots heir sought to bind up the wounds
Then Sirhan Sirhan shot him dead.
Bobby bled out on the kitchen tiled floor
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
Asian girl running, naked, on a dirt country road.
A Viet Cong man shot in the head
Fifty Eight Thousand names on a wall
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Women In Uniform
Beehive hairdo, 45 on the hip
Patrolwoman Saunders, don't you give her no whip
Took me to the station for a breathtest
then back to the bedroom for some house-arrest
[Chorus:]
Women in uniform, sometimes they look so cold
Women in uniform, but, Oh! They feel so warm
Coming back to London on a 747
Stewardess made me feel like I'm in heaven
Looking up the aisle to see what I could see
She leaned over said; Give it to me
White apron, brown leather shoes
The nurse at the clinic left my heart all bruised
Gave me a massage, sprained my right
Now she takes my temperature every night
[Chorus]
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Commando raid on the Lebanese border
Sergeant Anita, she gives the order
Khaki jacket and a love gun
Baby, I surrender, let's have some fun
[Chorus]
[Solo]
[Chorus]
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Women in uniform, Khaki, white and blue
Women in uniform, coming after you
Women, women, Women in uniform
Women, women, Women in uniform
[Chorus]
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lies Told To Children
religious incantations,
written with dead bodies,
buried in ditches
with face drawn shovels.
the tint of skin tastes
like things done in the night.
and lies told to children
to let them sleep!
redemption killed
on a desert highway,
left to stink in the sun
of another faceless day.
we are what we have done,
in the final end.
yet we close our eyes,
and wash the blood from our hands!
blame it on the cost of freedom,
a white god with special needs.
religious incantations,
and lies told to children!
written for the spirits of over
100 million Native Americans killed!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Paper Cuts
I stand and look at this uniform in discust
paper cuts. Paper cuts. Can you see my paper cut?
Soon. Soon this uniform will touch my open skin.
I go to sleep but suddenly I awake to the morning,
in this trench I hear the sound of guns, the rain is falling,
like myself,
my uniform is discovering blood from and because of my guts,
you thought a poets biggest pain was a paper cut?
You never knew that I knew pain
don't you know that I know pain all too well
well, I know it well like the devil knows hell
well, like a drug dealer who knows how to sell
like a life sentence inside a cell,
you cant touch the pain I feel the pain I felt.
Quiker than the bullit the word spreads
so take your shot make sure you dont waste it
bullit to bone word to mouth I can taste it.
You aim towards no mans land, you stand behind the barb wire
you are the boss and the bullits are your emplyees that you must fire
you are a soldier a soldier that holds great desire
this war is one big debit card that will one day expire
although there isnt a date, I can see a gate. I can see you.
I can see you being led astray by propaganda
you are talking but I can not understand ya. I can see you.
I can see you firing your final round.
I can see that movie moment the one with slow motion and no sound.
I can see you from here. Up here, up high in the sky, down on the ground.
I can see you. You are sat with me in the mud. You speak.
Your eyes shut,
they open like the notepad but the words open up a much deeper cut.
I look. I see. I look at your uniform, I see your guts,
I see your blood.
We sit here with open eyes, the amminition flies through the sky.
Paper cuts. Paper cuts. I sit still as you stand on the front line,
I close my eyes as I realize the blood on your uniform, was infact mine.
poem by Daniel McCann
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The Blood of Thousands
Thousands upon thousands are slain
Each year, are killed in cruel, cold blood.
Thousands cry out, but to no avail—
They are attacked with cruelest hate.
They scream and shout!
But do we care? No! and we never will!
Let’s murder some more! Kill more from inside!
It doesn’t hurt us in the least!
They’re as dead as dead can ever get—
They’ll not trouble us again.
They are gone and now you can rejoice!
Take pride in your murder of innocent blood!
Who are these thousands killed every year?
The infants in your womb!
Murderess! ! Fiend! Heartless animal!
You don’t deserve motherhood!
Abort them. Go ahead. At least they’re in a better place,
A place you’ll never go! At least it’s over, and they
Didn’t have to deal with you, selfish pig!
I hope that guilt tears you apart the way you did to them!
This is abortion.
This is evil.
This is.....
Murder!
poem by Paige Scott
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Today, only 2 percent of the people know the name of someone serving in uniform. That means 2 percent of your listeners can actually conjure up the image of someone wearing the uniform of the military of the United States.
quote by Oliver North
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Refugees
I come from a musical place
Where they shoot me for my song
And my brother has been tortured
By my brother in my land.
I come from a beautiful place
Where they hate my shade of skin
They don't like the way I pray
And they ban free poetry.
I come from a beautiful place
Where girls cannot go to school
There you are told what to believe
And even young boys must grow beards.
I come from a great old forest
I think it is now a field
And the people I once knew
Are not there now.
We can all be refugees
Nobody is safe,
All it takes is a mad leader
Or no rain to bring forth food,
We can all be refugees
We can all be told to go,
We can be hated by someone
For being someone.
I come from a beautiful place
Where the valley floods each year
And each year the hurricane tells us
That we must keep moving on.
I come from an ancient place
All my family were born there
And I would like to go there
But I really want to live.
I come from a sunny, sandy place
Where tourists go to darken skin
And dealers like to sell guns there
I just can't tell you what's the price.
I am told I have no country now
I am told I am a lie
I am told that modern history books
May forget my name.
We can all be refugees
Sometimes it only takes a day,
Sometimes it only takes a handshake
Or a paper that is signed.
We all came from refugees
Nobody simply just appeared,
Nobody's here without a struggle,
And why should we live in fear
Of the weather or the troubles?
We all came here from somewhere.
poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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Job
All I know to do is work
Dress myself in the morning
And go to that place
I am a gardener
I mow the lawn
I plant the plants
I watch your wife sunbathing
I sip your tea
How sweet it is...
All I know to do is work
Put on my uniform
And drive the streets
I am the law
I keep a careful eye
I nip trouble in the bud
I bring your daughter home
I drink your tea
How sweet it is...
All I know to do is work
Wrap my white coat around me
And go to work on you
I am the coroner
I make the cuts
I weigh the organs
I report on what really killed you
I drink your tea
How sweet it is
How sweet life is
From time to time...
(2009)
poem by B. Alexander
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Bible Stories: Esther (PartVII)
What Message Does The Story Convey?
God chooses Mordacai, an upright Jew,
Who brings up Esther, related by blood;
God gives a dream to Mordacai, one day,
Of things that happen later in his life!
The man gets chance to serve in King’s courtyard;
And saves the King from being killed by plot;
The King remembers what the man has done,
Rewarding him when opportune time comes!
God makes a Jewish girl of beauty rare,
The Queen and wife of Artaxerxes King,
Who rules a kingdom from Ind to Sudan,
And through her saves the entire Jewish race.
The wicked Haman gets punished by King;
Because his arrogance had gone too far;
God never spares an evil-hearted man,
Who schemes to destroy God’s beloved people.
The fervent prayers of the Jewish race
Evokes the sympathy and grace of God;
The Lord never abandons righteous souls;
The innocents are protected by Him!
God transforms rulers’ hearts to change for good;
Good Emperors are blessed by Providence;
The scattered Jews are ‘shepherded’ so well;
These are some points that Bible stories tell.
God has a special plan for everyone;
Our piety and fortitude will help;
No evil minds can destroy God’s people;
The wicked get punished even on earth.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-20-2007
poem by John Celes
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I think these ladies, that group of 130 women, are going to make a difference in what goes on down there, because they're going to hold the locals' feet to the fire.
quote by Lynn Westmoreland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I was being paid thirty-thousand dollars a year, the very least I could do was hit .400.
quote by Ted Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Krystallnacht 1938
I fear the sound of booted feet.
They inspire painful memories
though fragmented and incomplete
I can recall so vividly
The sound of breaking glass and boots.
I was too young to understand
the screaming jeers and gleeful hoots.
As storm troopers took full command
and attacked Jewish properties.
Without restraint from anyone
protestors beaten to their knees.
All semblance of the law had gone.
November nineteen thirty eight
The Nazis had proscribed the Jews
the ninth a night of spite and hate.
Who lost all that they had to lose..
My parents sent me to the States
a privilege for which they had to pay
with everything they had. It grates
upon me still that I survived.
because of their self sacrifice.
The guilt I feel still eats away
because they paid the final price.
I know I am alive today.
Because some cousins took me in
and raised me as American.
Although I was but distant kin
Though I would rather not, I can
recall that night so long ago.
The cries of men in agony
how much is true I do not know.
In dreams I see so vividly
The dreadful scenes I did not see
deeply etched in memory.
A turning point in history.
affecting my whole world and me.
I was a child of only eight
The Nazis killed my family
Though I was saved I had to wait
Til we defeated Germany.
To know for certain they were dead
along with many millions more.
The sound of boots fills me with dread.
I’m glad I can’t remember more.
Now I have children of my own
a fit old man of seventy.
I wonder If I could have shown
their courage which would send me free.
To strangers in a far off land
where they decided I would be
safer. I think I can understand
their only thought was to save me.
I wonder where it all began
I see no reason for it still.
Mans inhumanity to man
and don’t suppose I ever will.
30-Nov-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Noel Leon
(Mike Geiger/Woody Mullis/Ricky Ray Rector)
(Spoken)
Leon Dixon leaves his Christmas lights up all year round
Its somethin different about our town
Weve often wondered why he never takes em down
But Leon leaves his Christmas lights up all year round
Theres a big bright noel flashin off and on
In the yard where the children play the whole year long
Weve all gotten used to it year by year
Now its kinda gotten to be a part of things round here
(Sang)
Peace on earth, Good will to men
Christmas time is here again
Can it be all that wrong
To feel like Christmas all year long
(Spoken)
Leon got sick, its been back awhile
Short on luck and money, but he still wore that smile
And nobody could stand to see him do without
So we all drove over to see if we could help out
Yeah, the noel flashed on and the bills stayed paid
I felt so warm as we drove away
I had never seen Christmas spelled so clear
As when I saw "LEON" flashin in my rear view mirror
(Sang)
Peace on earth, Good will to men
Christmas time is here again
Can it be all that wrong
To feel like Christmas all year long
(Spoken)
Noel Leon...
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Oak Wood Piano on Kristallnacht
The SS guard hit Zindel Grynszpan on the head and he fell
Into a ditch. Father, he heard the voice of his son, you must
Go on. Zindel took the hand of his son and climbed out of
The trench. With his wife, a son and daughter on his side
They continued the march. But the SS guards did not stop
The savage whipping of the deportees. Blood was flowing
On all sides.
The Grynszpan family were Polish Jews from Hanover.
When the Nazis came to power they became outcasts.
In October 1938 they were expelled from Germany
And deported to Poland in a group of 12,000 Jews.
They were taken by train to the frontier town Neubenschen
And from there on foot to the German-Polish border.
When they reached the border heavy rain started to fall.
The Nazis confiscated their money. They had no food to eat.
Polish officers arrived and began to inspect their papers.
They admitted the refugees with Polish passports,
Housing them in military stables. Old, sick and children
Were herded together in most inhuman conditions.
One of the first things that Zindel did in Poland was to send
A postcard to his seventeen year old son Hirsch in Paris.
When Hirsch Grynszpan read the family’s tribulations
He became furious. His heart was filled with rage and hatred
And he decided to avenge their sufferings. On the morning
Of November 7, Hirsch entered a gunsmith’s shop on rue
Faubourg Saint-Martin and purchased a 6.35 calibre pistol
With a box of 25 bullets, for 235 Francs.
Then he took a ride on the Metro to the Solferino stop
And walked to the German Embassy at 78 rue de Lille.
Hirsch told the receptionist that he has some documents with him.
He was received by Ernst vom Rath, the third secretary.
When the German diplomat closed the door Hirsch pulled out
The gun. “You are a filthy Kraut”, he said, “and in the name of
12,000 persecuted Jews here is the document”. He fired five
Bullets from point blank range at vom Rath. The diplomat died
Two days later of his wounds.
The assassination came as a godsend thing for the Nazis.
Hitler denounced it as part of a global Jewish conspiracy
Against Germany. It became a pretext for the well-orchestrated
Pogrom of Kristallnacht, the night of broken glass.
During the night of November 9-10,1938, in every place
Throughout the Third Reich, Storm Troops attacked Jews
And Jewish institutions.
Hitler’s henchmen burnt down or destroyed in Germany
Nearly two hundred synagogues. They burst into Jewish houses,
Broke the glass of Jewish businesses and beat up Jews wherever
They found them. About ninety people were murdered
And thousands of others were wounded in the street violence.
The Nazis also arrested thirty thousand Jews and sent them
To concentration camps in Buchenwald, Dachau,
And Sachsenhausen. And on top of all this, the Reich
Cynically imposed a billion mark penalty
On the Jewish Community to pay for the damages.
In Berlin hundreds of truncheon swinging storm troops
Led the mob in smashing up the glass plate windows
Of Jewish stores. In the Jewish neighbourhoods of German
Cities the Nazis lit bonfires. They threw on them to burn
Torah scrolls, prayer books and whole libraries. Thousands
Of Germans joined the Storm Troops in the atrocities.
But many resented the pogrom. People watched in horror
The roundup; they cried silently behind their curtains.
On a third floor balcony in Leipzig
Storm Troops shattered a balustrade and pushed
An upright oak wood piano over the edge. It plunged like
A black wingless dragon and fell helplessly to the street.
It crashed on the pavement with a shocking clamour.
Its wooden casing had split. The strings stripped bare
Stood in the middle of the wreckage as an orphan harp
Screaming with a heartbreaking outcry.
poem by Paul Hartal
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The Date Of Christmas DaY
The Date Of Christmas DaY
A.D.Four plus thirty-three= A.D.Thirty-seven.
The millineum year Two Thousand Thirty Seven has not yet occured.
Inn mye humble opinion never will it ever bee.
Iff Christ was born in September Thirty-Seven,
we should have Christmas on September Three.
December TwentY-fifth is the dead works day of druids.
They still dance the maypole day in May.
May ONE could be the birthday of GODS son.
The time is tricky anyway after more than a few years.
Everything gets blurry after way too many beers.
The moral of this story just accept that it was done.
This Christmas try to worship on December Twenty-One.
Drink less eggnogg and have more FUN.
On this millineum day in Nineteen Fifty-Four;
Eye was not yet one year Young.
poem by Charles Hice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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