I remember rockets…
I
remember rockets
there
is no red glare
tracer
rounds flashing
yellow,
white - hot red
into
the black night air
the
cool spring rains
of
March 1968 –
an
“old man” of twenty one
among
mostly younger kids
fate
falling to each his own
arriving
on ships
by
sea
or
by jet via Saigon
most
unknowing
the
urgent answers
to
the important questions
unasked
right
or wrong.
We
arrive
on
our “tour”
so
called –
for
a year
some
stay forever
others
leave
free
and clear –
many
return home
in
pieces
broken
hearted
deserted
by lovers
held
dear.
Still
others are crushed
by
the lies,
the
promises not kept
by
those
that
should be
waging
these wars –
our
politicians, so inept.
But
they are never in country -
as
their bullets are words
piercing
our hearts through the back.
Their explosive devices are their fake smiles
Their explosive devices are their fake smiles
and
the laughter attacks
at
bad jokes -
the
well staged handshakes
blowing
up in our
children’s
innocent faces
with
wars fought
and
the bills adding up
from
unpronounceable places.
And
all this for what –
all
this to promote the greedy few
staying
in political office
with
the well paid jobs
and
the perks to support corporate profits.
So
it seems to me – Marine
father,
simple citizen that I am -
our
wars are fought
in
the wrong countries.
We
veterans must tweak our sights
-
on politics for the real fight.
Aim
your well earned words
at
those that
hide
in the high tech jungles of Wall Street
and
Washington -
we
must put black under our eyes
again
and enter into their dark
tunnels
of terminals.
We
must find them one my one
hiding
behind ivy
league
educations
and
false reputations,
follow
the bloody trail
of
our brethren lost in combat
to
the money they hoard.
This
jungle trail is littered with dead
and
scarred Marines
foreclosed
homes, unemployed vets –
ghosts
of the 100,000 suicides from Vietnam.
Prepare
your streets for Iraq and Afghanistan
veterans.
They will all speak.
Army,
Air Force, Navy –
how
many senators sons
or
daughters serve
this
country – let us count
the
few and let them stand
and
be recognized.
I
remember rockets
landing
in Chu Lai –
and
I know this –
things
must change
in
America –
and
veterans must be the change
they
wish to see in this
new
America – this prouder America
this
ethical America
this
people’s America.
That
no man or woman
shall
be sent to sudden
sacrifice
of death or loss of limb
when
not every man and woman must
serve.
When
you send my son Mr. President
then
you send your daughters – when
you
vote for war in Iran, Mr. Senator, Mr.
Representative
– then you send your son
or
your daughter.
It
is only then –
that
the decision you make
is
weighted equally – and has integrity,
but
until then -
I
shall turn my metaphoric sights
upon
politics – upon politicians.
And
one at a time – we shall review your records
with
Veterans. I turn my sights
on
bankers – on corporations
knowing
that as long as your profit reigns supreme
and
not our country, not our people
and
not our highest ethical conduct – then
we
veterans shall not support you.
We
are fighting in the wrong countries -
we
need be here at home.
at
once in an ethical war with politicians and corporations
daily
firefights of heated words and actions of discontent
-
this is our country, we fought for it.
Veterans
– we must fire our fifty caliber rounds
of
truth – words aimed relentlessly and purposefully
our
succinct words must pierce these corporate veils
“people
are most important – not profits.”
White
hot tracers, tracks of truth
must
ring into the political jungle – leaves must fall.
Our
words war is here in America
not
in Iraq – not in Afghanistan
those
are political wars – not people wars.
The
people war is us – what are you doing
for
veterans in America?
Veterans
– what are we doing for ourselves?
I
remember rockets
there
is no red glare
only
tracer rounds flashing
yellow,
white - hot red
into
the black night air.
Doug Claybourne – Chu Lai – 1968-69 – Memorial Day – for Wayne
Claybourne – 9th Marines WWII and A.B.Brudvig - Quang Tri 68-69.
Copyright © 2012. Doug Claybourne All Rights Reserved.