Woodstock Generation/Memorial Day
For every aging boomer
there are one or two they've known:
Heroes of the battlefield
Who never made it home.
Some classmate who was butchered
in a fire fight in “Nam.
A sibling who had perished
in the standoff at Khe Sanh.
Perhaps the Tet offensive
left some friend's blood spilled and spent.
Politicians speak of glory-
It’s the grunts who pay the rent
From the walls of Hue to Can Ranh Bay
from Tonkin to Saigon.
there is a wall in Washington
with their names inscribed thereon.
The lucky ones who did come home
recall the name and face
of some heroic eighteen year old
who perished in their place.
(dedicated to Corporal Frank Evangelista, Jr. and 58000 others who never made it to woodstock)
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Butterfly
A caterpillar had the feeling
That change was coming
That time was stealing.
To embrace the metamorphosis
It wove a cocoon around its chest
And choose our wall to take its rest.
The young are thoughtless, often cruel
And I was no exception.
I would have destroyed it but
for Frankie’s intervention.
Frankie lived in the corner house
He was older and quite wise.
He taught me that this green cocoon
would change into a butterfly.
He bade me watch, he had me wait
to see the wonder taking shape.
We saw the Monarch first take wing
once caterpillar, now a King.
Several summers passed us by.
I still lived but Frankie died-
He was just eighteen, Young and brave
A landmine put him in his grave.
He died just before Saigon’s fall
His name’s inscribed upon the Wall
Corporal Frank Evangelista Junior,
beloved by mother and mourned by sister.
A terrible loss when Frankie died-
He might have been a butterfly.
(The incident with the Butterfly happened in 1960. Lance Corporal Frank Paul Evangelista jr.USMC died during the Vietnam war when a landmine blew up his jeep. I recall he died in March of 1969, but I altered the time lines slightly(using my poetic license) .. Had he emerged from the experience of war, he may have proved to be a great man.)
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Remember
I hear the sound of distant guns,
as good lives march away,
to foreign lands to fight and die,
to preserve the rights of freedom,
for those in that distant land,
can have the right to live,
and not under a tyrant’s hand.
They go not as heroes for glory,
but to help innocent souls,
so they can sleep securely at night.
However, the battlefield where they are,
hold allsorts of dangers there,
some will never return safely home.
Their souls will look over
the battlefield where they fell,
possibly wondering at
the folly of it all.
Therefore, the next time you look at,
a monument with columns of names,
remember that their sacrifice
was made not for one, but for all.
poem by David Harris
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Tears Of Blood
On every battlefield,
the ground is stained with tears of blood.
The cruelty of war holds no bounds.
Men and boys fight together
and against each other.
Theirs deaths are just numbers
on someone’s statistics chart.
Their names are quickly forgotten
except by their loved ones.
Their bodies rot where they fell
in the no man’s land on a battlefield.
No one can make sense of the useless slaughter
by a faceless enemy across the invisible lines.
Lines drawn in the lunacy of a moment
for which hundreds will die for.
The tears of blood will fall like raindrops
from machinegun fire,
and so the crazy war goes on.
Each side losing brave men
to save some politicians face.
There is no glory in death
and wasting tears of blood on some foreign land,
just a waste of good lives.
When will it ever end?
22-23 May 2009
poem by David Harris
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Warrior's Wall
At the forefront,
of the grassy mead, my post.
Sentry to the residents, resting,
inscribed upon my field.
I am the Warrior’s Wall.
Imposing, polished granite.
Tribute, to the heroes’ names I bear.
With no sound, at attention I stand.
Heroes, who returned, not in parade’s ranks.
But, borne by troop stepping out in silence.
Silence cultivated, by bonds of respect.
Heroes, their names etched upon my face.
From every walk of life,
no matter station or status.
Visitors, comrades, as well the curious.
Before me, all become humbly reverent.
Some sob, and lean upon me.
That I might heal their pain.
Others, lay empty paper ‘cross my face.
Tracing out the names, to forever keep.
‘Tis my honor, my delegated duty.
To guard, my sleeping charges.
I shall stand my post, ‘til time infinite.
I am the Warrior’s Wall.
03May08
poem by Kurt Hearth
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Home:
Home…
Home is where you were born.
Home is where you were raised,
Home is were you grew up,
Home was what had shaped you,
Home is what gave you your foundation
And what help you grow into something amazing,
Home is what you left behind to become something bigger,
Home is what you remember many years after leaving,
Home is what you become missing for,
Home is where you crave to be when you're done with you adventures,
Even thought you left home, for another place,
Home has never left,
It's still there,
On the same old street,
With the same old lawn,
With the same old people,
Just waiting there,
For you and only you,
It is there for you and only you,
Because with out it,
Without a home,
You wouldn't have a place to go back to,
A place was you can call your own..well, home...
poem by Sherry Painter
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Saigon
You got everything that a girl should grow
Im so afraid to kiss you I might lose control
You can hold me tighter but turn loose of my gun
Its a sentimental present all the way from saigon
Honey, honey, honey, please call me
You dont need no money we can do it for free
I got a friend in phoenix with a two-way radio
All the static in my attic getting ready to blow
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
All the static in my attic getting ready to blow
I was talking to the mailman late last week
He had a letter in his sweater from stuttering don
He said things are getting better in sa, sa, sa, sa, sa
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Things are getting better back in saigon
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Things are getting better back in saigon
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Things are getting better back in saigon
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Saigon, honey, honey, honey
Things are getting better back in saigon
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Year
The Old Year's gone away
To nothingness and night:
We cannot find him all the day
Nor hear him in the night:
He left no footstep, mark or place
In either shade or sun:
The last year he'd a neighbour's face,
In this he's known by none.
All nothing everywhere:
Mists we on mornings see
Have more of substance when they're here
And more of form than he.
He was a friend by every fire,
In every cot and hall -
A guest to every heart's desire,
And now he's nought at all.
Old papers thrown away,
Old garments cast aside,
The talk of yesterday,
All things identified;
But times once torn away
No voices can recall:
The eve of New Year's Day
Left the Old Year lost to all.
poem by John Clare
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I've Lived My Life
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
I left the country for the city thought I was smart but I was silly
I should have known I'd get in trouble being so green
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
I met a boy and learned to love him I would have done anything for him
I've loved him more than anything I've ever seen
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
Only eighteen but it's all over I ruined my life to please my lover
I made him happy he made me cry then said goodbye
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
Only eighteen but it's all over...
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mayaguez Incident
Look and find our names upon The Wall,
Hargrove, Hall and Marshall were our names.
We were three men that were left behind,
three Marines still owed honorable graves.
Marines took back the hijacked Mayaguez
and recovered all her crewmen safe and well
But while our mission accomplished its objective
The Ninth Marines were ferried into hell.
The helicopters took us to the island,
Koh Tang, in the Southern China sea
The Khmer Rouge were dug in on the island
prepared for an assault from air or sea.
They say it was a failure of Intelligence-
The crew of The Mayaguez was moved before
The 2nd battalion forces first were landed
Upon that hostile beach, that deadly shore
Lieutenant Col. Randall Austin was commanding
Our perimeter was shrinking by the hour
Our landing force had taken heavy losses
Some died upon the beach, more drowned offshore.
It happened in perimeter reduction
we three men were forgotten in our hole.
When Helicopters flew the rest to safety
We were left behind on the atoll.
Some say we died that day, some say after
Reports are we were tortured and then killed.
Some claim we were forgotten by our nation.
But our names are on The Wall- you never will.
Look and find our names upon The Wall,
Hargrove, Hall and Marshall were our names.
We were three men that were left behind,
three Marines still owed honorable graves.
On May 15,1975, two weeks after the last Americans fled Saigon, the men of the fourth
and Ninth Marines were ordered to retake the U.S.S. Mayaguez and rescue her crew. The
ship had been seized by elements of the Khmer Rouge of Cambodia. It was mistakenly
believed that the crew were being held hostage on Koh Tang Island, Cambodia. While
the 4th Marines Delta Company successfully boarded and retook the Mayaguez, the ninth
Marines were landing on the beach at Koh Tang. Officially, the second battalion of the
Ninth Marine Regiment lost 18 dead,41 wounded and three MIA. In addition 7 of 8
assault helicopters that took part in the original assault were destroyed.
This last battle of the Vietnam War era was a tragedy of errors. The Marines were sent to
rescue crewmen who were no longer on the Island. The crew was rescued elsewhere. The
Khmer Rouge troops on the Island were expecting an attack by the Viet Cong as the
island was the subject of a territorial dispute. The marines were sent in, based on faulty
intelligence, against a force whose strength and dispositions had been badly
underestimated by our leaders. The fire fight on the Island was so fierce that the dead
had to be left where they had fallen.
Lance Corporal John N. Hargrove, PFC Gary L Hall and Danny G. Marshall’s names
appear on panel 1W lines 130-131 of the Vietnam memorial in Washington D.C. They
are the last combat fatalities of the Vietnam conflict. Not all heroes are buried in
Arlington Cemetery
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A War To End All Wars, But Wasn’t
They not only fought the enemy,
but fought the elements as well.
They fought for their country
in lands far from home.
They fought rain, mud and the enemy
in trenches stained with blood
from those who had fallen there before.
They fought on and on
while the Generals watched
the slaughter from far away.
For their mistakes men died
by the score across the battlefield.
Their blood would stained the land
then and forever more.
Then came the gas
like a creeping mist across the battlefield
that silenced all in its wake.
It made no distinction to young or old,
just poisoned all it touched.
Their contorted bodies rotted where they fell.
They said this was a war to end all wars, but it wasn’t.
Almost twenty years later
men from different countries gathered to fight another war
and again in the trenches men fell.
The mechanics had changed;
machines became more prevalent across the battlefield,
still men died for small victories in the tide of war.
3 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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Take me Back home
Take me back,
Back where I once came from,
From the place I was born and raised,
This place I am at its not home its pure hell for me,
A young child who was only
8 left home to be in a new so called happy place,
That place made me miserable,
Hated by those who hated me,
Picked on those you can’t fight back,
Yet I cry and cry over no one heard my pain,
I scream no one heard,
It’s a little too late for me to go back,
At 16 yet I still think of my true home where my true heart lays,
Where I must try to go back no matter what it takes,
Just take me back home where I feel safe at.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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The Hands Of A Teacher
Optimism,
Optimism perished from the face of my earth
And then you came along, came along and swept me away,
She kissed me, as we stood on the edge,
The night made the day as we made for the bridge
It started raining hard, and I saw we may live to regret
No I never really understood
No I never really understood why,
Because Ive never been given,
Never been given two tries,
No I never really understood,
Understood why...
Pessimism,
Pessimism perished from the face of my earth,
And then you came along, came along and swept me away,
Did you miss me? did you miss me as we walked
Through the pain, attached the chain so you could
See me again
I started asking myself, did I teach you right?
No I never really understood
No I never really understood why,
Because Ive never been given,
Never been given two tries,
No I never really understood,
Understood why...
Understood why...
You came to me, you broke the bonds,
You set me free
And then the love that you promised me
Came a tumblin tumblin tumblin down
Into my hands...
No I never really understood
No I never really understood why,
Because Ive never been given,
Never been given two tries,
No I never really understood,
Understood why...
So teacher teach me...
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home
Where is ones home,
As He passes through the corridor's of life
Is it the bed that He was born onto
Or the place, fate chose for him to die.
Where is home for the Sailor
Who sails the world upon a ship
Is home a port He has docked into
Or is home a well remembered crib.
Where youth was a friend and tomorrow a dream.
And sorrow and sadness was never seen.
Where is home for the woman
Who has had many different homes
Where is home for the drifter
Who loves nothing more to roam.
Where wishes are still alive and never to far
Where home is a dew drop, and sleep are the stars.
Where is home for the child
Who has lived many a childhood dream
Where is home for the prisoner
Who someday in life will be freed.
Home is many different things
Its a bedtime story or a childhood dream
A piece of a wall or a blushing wife
Or is it that hazy memory still never out of sight.
Home is not where you lay your bones
After a day of hardened work
Home is not even the place that you stay
When your feet have begun to hurt.
Home my friend it might not even be
The place where you currently do live
For home my friend is not just a word
But it is, where the heart is.....
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The Wings of the Morning
It is quiet, even peaceful here,
out past Hana on Maui’s Isle.
Near Palapala Ho'omau Church,
This is where I have come to bide.
To listen to the Ocean’s roar,
to find what peace is left to me.
I could not hide from you, oh Lord
Not in the uttermost depths of the sea
My time is fast approaching when
I will lose this quarrel with disease.
The air is warm and liquid here,
It has a perfumed fragrance that
would bid a younger man to stay.
but Cancer bids me to fade away
As I will, I’ve seen the stone,
simple enough to mark my space
In the Churches’ graveyard here
my friend Sam has made a place
I recall, when youth was dawning,
You gave me the Wings of the Morning.
Was it simple vanity
that made me venture the unconquered sea.
I took off from Roosevelt field alone
and touched down in Paris, far from home.
Now I am far from home again,
See where Death approaches, like a friend.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Paschendale
In a foreign field he lay
lonely soldier unknown grave
on his dying words he prays
tell the world of Paschendale
Relive all that he's been through
last communion of his soul
rust your bullets with his tears
let me tell you 'bout his years
Laying low in a blood filled trench
killing time 'til my very own death
on my face I can feel the falling rain
never see my friends again
in the smoke, in the mud and lead
smell of fear and feeling of dread
soon be time to go over the wall
rapid fire and the end of us all
Whistles, shouts and more gun fire
lifeless bodies hang on barbwire
battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
be reunited with my dead friends soon
many soldiers eighteen years
drown in mud, no more tears
surely a war no one can win
killing time about to begin
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
The bodies of ours and our foes
the sea of death it overflows
in no man's land God only knows
into jaws of death we go...
Crucified as if on a cross
allied troops, they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
such before has never been seen
swear I heard the angels cry
pray to God no more may die
so that people know the truth
tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
everyman does play his part
terror of the men we kill
the human heart is hungry still
I stand my ground for the very last time
gun is ready as I stand in line
nervous wait for the whistle to blow
rush of blood and over we go...
Blood is falling like the rain
its crimson cloak unveils again
the sound of guns can't hide their shame
and so we die in Paschendale
Dodging shrapnel and barbwire
running straight at cannon fire
running blind as I hold my breath
say a prayer symphony of death
as we charge the enemy lines
a burst of fire and we go down
I choke a cry but no one hears
feel the blood go down my throat
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
See my spirit on the wind
across the lines beyond the hill
friend and foe will meet again
those who died at Paschendale
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home is where our bed is
We can fight all we want
You may even call me names
Telling me how much you hate me
But home is where our bed is
Home is where you forgive me
Home is where i let go of all the pain
Home is where we come to
When we show all our love
You can tell me how stupid i was
I can even show you all my anger
I can vent thru you
And you will feel like walking away
But home is where our bed is
And our bed we most come to
There i will tell you how sorry i was
And there you will forgive without no holding back
You can tell your friend
How bad I've treated you
You can even make some up
And they find it hard to forgive me
But baby home is where our bed is
Home is where you take my crip and still says i love you this man
Home is where you tell your friends that they are wrong
Home is where you tell them all to go to hell
Home Is where we wake up to
Home Is where you forgive
Home Is where you don't sleep 0n me baby
Home Is where our heart is
H0me is where all doors are closed!
Curtains are drawn!
Blinds are shielded! And 'its just you and me
Home is where you forgive no matter how big the sin is
Cause home is love
And i love you!
poem by Hontonnu Dominic
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I Wish I Had My Home
Home
Brandon
Home
What is a home?
Where is home?
When can I go home?
Home is a place where you can feel safe
Home is a place where you can break down in the free
Home is the place where you feel joy happiness and whole
Home is a place where you lay your heart in
I have laid my heart in three different places
(What) My first home is a place everywhere
All I need is a basket and a ball
All I did was give a ball love and I got something better in return
A ball gave me hope, understanding and appreciation for true love
I have never put more hours into one thing than it
It was always my top priority and I was it’s top priority
Better than any girlfriend and any friend
Home
Brandon
Home
What is a home?
Where is home?
When can I go home?
Home is a place where you can feel safe
Home is a place where you can break down in the free
Home is the place where you feel joy happiness and whole
Home is a place where you lay your heart in
I have laid my heart in three different places
(What) My first home is a place everywhere
All I need is a basket and a ball
All I did was give a ball love and I got something better in return
A ball gave me hope, understanding and appreciation for true love
I have never put more hours into one thing than it
It was always my top priority and I was it’s top priority
Better than any girlfriend and any friend
It only treated me great when I treated it great
I could never leave my hear with it because it put it’s heart in mine
I wish I had my home
(Where) My home is a place where dreams are rested and free and comfort
I feel safe, I feel that I can get some sleep and I feel that Im at home
When my body needs a rest it has hammocks for me
When I need a place to think and collaborate it always had a quite spot with a beautiful view for me
When I need a place to escape to, it welcomes me with open arms and I can stay as long as I like
I have made my imprint in the Cayman Islands and It has left its imprint in me and have left one part of my life in it and
I wish I could go back home.
(When) I miss her so much and I would do anything to see her again
I miss her humbleness, her laugh and her comfort when I need to break down
I miss her when I need her there or when there is a good moment
I miss my home because my home is in her
She is my home but it is a place where I cannot stay
Instead of me leaving my home, my home left me and I forgot something inside
I know she can take care of my home but I hope she takes care of my heart
If it has too I know it will bleed for her and it would become hers
All I want is to know when I can go and see my home where my heart lays
poem by Buddha Love
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Honkey Tonkin'
Words and music by Hank Williams, Sr.
When [G] you are sad and lonely and have no place to go
Call me up, sweet baby, and bring along some dough
And we'll go Honky Tonkin', Honky Tonkin'
Honky Tonkin', Honey Baby
We'll go Honky Tonkin' [D7] 'round this [G] town.
When you and your baby have a fallin' out
Just call me up sweet mama and we'll go steppin' out
And we'll go Honky Tonkin', Honky Tonkin'
Honky Tonkin', Honey Baby
We'll go Honky Tonkin' 'round this town.
We're goin' to the city - to the city fair
If you go to the city then you will find me there
And we'll go Honky Tonkin', Honky Tonkin'
Honky Tonkin', Honey Baby
We'll go Honky Tonkin' 'round this town.
Repeat first verse
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Honky Tonkin
Words and music by hank williams, sr.
When [g] you are sad and lonely and have no place to go
Call me up, sweet baby, and bring along some dough
And well go honky tonkin, honky tonkin
Honky tonkin, honey baby
Well go honky tonkin [d7] round this [g] town.
When you and your baby have a fallin out
Just call me up sweet mama and well go steppin out
And well go honky tonkin, honky tonkin
Honky tonkin, honey baby
Well go honky tonkin round this town.
Were goin to the city - to the city fair
If you go to the city then you will find me there
And well go honky tonkin, honky tonkin
Honky tonkin, honey baby
Well go honky tonkin round this town.
Repeat first verse
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Eighteen
Lines form on my face and hands
Lines form from the ups and downs
I'm in the middle without any plans
I'm a boy and I'm a man
I'm eighteen
and I don't know what I want
Eighteen
I just don't know what I want
Eighteen
I gotta get away
I gotta get out of this place
I'll go runnin in outer space
Oh yeah
I got a
baby's brain and an old man's heart
Took eighteen years to get this far
Don't always know what I'm talkin' about
Feels like I'm livin in the middle of doubt
Cause I'm
Eighteen
I get confused every day
Eighteen
I just don't know what to say
Eighteen
I gotta get away
Lines form on my face and my hands
Lines form on the left and right
I'm in the middle
the middle of life
I'm a boy and I'm a man
I'm eighteen and I LIKE IT
Yes I like it
Oh I like it
Love it
Like it
Love it
Eighteen!
Eighteen!
Eighteen!
Eighteen and I LIKE IT
song performed by by Alice Cooper from Essentials
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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