`
Last week, I had the pleasure of meeting an eighty-three year - young and retired military career soldier. He was with his disabled wife - She was in a wheelchair.
He was gregarious. He was likable.
He had a hat with WW-2 insignia.
That elder was so interesting.
The military honored him with:
Three (Valor) Silver Stars and:
*
focus . . .
*
an elder . . .
asking his seven-year grandaughter
to wear makeup
*
P.S.
No wear a sports braw
*
Pause . . .
The Elder I met wore:
A Combat Infantry Badge.
( I never wear war medallions )
( Today I'll notice some vets do )
`
It's very personal. I understand . . .
?
I just don't wear those military hats.
I've been remember a dead Veteran.
`
See tags: a drafted 'grunt' nicknamed:
Chicago. We were all nicknamed . . .
The old AP photograph was clipped.
A Mother who Loves does that stuff.
`
*
*
CHICAGO - ( It etched within me post-war )
`
Hog Butcher of the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and Nation's Freight Handler,
Storm, husky, brawling,
City of Big Shoulders:
They tell me your wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted Women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.
And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the guman kill and go free to kill again.
And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of woman and children I have seen the mask of wanton laughter.
And have answered so I turn once more to those who sneer in my city,
and I have given back the sneer and say to them:
Come and show me another city who lifted head is singing so proud to be alive
and course and strong and cunning.
Flinging Magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tail bold
slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;
Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action,
cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,
Bareheaded,
Shoveling,
Wrecking,
Planning,
Building, breaking, rebuilding,
Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth.
Laughing with white teeth,
Under the burden of Destiny Laughing as a
Young man laughs,
Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laugh
who has never lost a battle,
Bragging and laughing under his wrist is pulse
and under his ribs the heart of the people Laughing!
Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling, laughter of
youth, half-naked sweating youth
proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads, and Freight Handler to the Nations.
`
`
P.S.
I once participated in a delayed 'Welcome Home Parade' there.
That's not something I would normally do. I am glad I did that.
Chicago - Welcome. I opened a shut-down pain. Thanks for that.
I marched with members of the (Valor) Medal of Honor Society.
I don't hold that medal. John Baca does. I irked a few Veterans.
I carried a sign that read:
`
Sigh/Sad . . .
*
*
Vietnam Don't Mean Nothing'
Unless we Have Learned That!
We Must Never War-Kill Again
*
( my Mom saved a AP photo in a shoebox )
maybe later I'll 'cut & paste' pretty daffodils.
I'm off to spend a day at the Veterans Hospital.


Salon.com
Comments
Unless we Have Learned That!
We Must Never War-Kill Again
Amen, Brother~
Thanks. I'll be back later.
Erica K . . .
No worry . . .
It's a scheduled meeting.
The VA sorta gets a bad rap.
I get the left calf looked at.
It's an old moo-war-wound.
etc.,
It's routine check-in stuff .
`
I gather in a big cluster . . .
and pray that Fate delivers
a few plagues to Capital Hill
The irony is that those of us who resisted and refused to serve in that bloody rat's nest in the paddies are long forgotten. No parades, no holiday, no nothin'
I don't know what to say except you're an extraordinary man and poet. and I'll leave it at that.
this was a good poem for today. a very good poem, indeed.
:)
HUGGGGGGGGGGGG
Maybe now
if we make enough drones
we can save our soldiers
and then just kill the people
who happen to live in a place
where we don't like the creeps
that make their life
a living hell.
Love Sandberg
especially his Chicago
Hope all is well with your calf
and that we can hear it mooing
rated with love
It's a hope parade and you are at the font of it.
Thank you sir.
I wholeheartedly agree. Nicely done, Art!
I know you write of serious matters here---
war, veterans, hog-butchery, etc---
but ...there is a girl from the sober house next door
out sunning herself in a smart pink bathing suit, right
under my window! She is reading a book and lying in different
languid positions!
Then i stop and think: what if a war-bomb exploded nearby?
That lovely flesh torn to pieces?
That is what war bombs do, i know. I see it on the news.
It seems almost as if such a thing is impossible,
when you have a sober suntanner stretching her naked legs
up to the sun in your vicinity.
Why would anyone wreck tender flesh?
Girl or boy flesh?
I think of napalm. Agent Orange.
All the damage done to all the young flesh.
"I want you to make love, not war,
I know you've heard it before."
John Lennon, in his final fading statement
in "Mind Games" on Mind Games (1973)...
"As long as war is regarded as wicked
it will always have its fascinations.
When it is looked upon as vulgar, it will cease to be popular."
Oscar Wilde .
tis vulgar stuff.indecent; obscene; lewd...
not lewd in the good way...
she is alone, in the sun, and safe, and displays her body
without shame.
a street away? boys play with guns. shopkeepers are shot.
gangs of boys marking territory, only a few blocks,
but theirs.
War? Fuck war.
Physical war.
Mental war goes on, and there is the glory...
in this endeavour, you are a wily general indeed, Arthur!
"Bring me my Bow of burning gold,
Bring me my Arrows of desire,
Bring me my Spear—O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green & pleasant land."
Blake.
And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall Street, cash and collateral turned ashes ... in the dust, in the cool tombs.
Pocahontas’ body, lovely as a poplar, sweet as a red haw in November or a pawpaw in May, did she wonder? does she remember? ... in the dust, in the cool tombs?
Take any streetful of people buying clothes and groceries, cheering a hero or throwing confetti and blowing tin horns ... tell me if the lovers are losers ... tell me if any get more than the lovers ... in the dust ... in the cool tombs.
-Carl Sandburg
knuckleheads, pinheads, nude folks,
'Fat Tire' beer burps beeps peepers,
nor warmongers.
I always thank anti-war human Beings.
For some reason a comment bring tear.
If I'm called a idiot blogger I just Smile.
Late last night I stopped my P.U. Truck.
I sat ...
I Listened to Peepers jest Peep & Peep.
Nature's hilarious. Peepers are Strange.
The decibels gets high, and then Gurgle.
There's 1000's of various Peeper Burps.
Dr. Ziggy Mutter-Job? Be Peeper People?
I ask Physicians and Psychiatrist to Peep.
I never diagnose folk unless they be Peep.
A honeybee takes a leak at the BP Latrine.
Affection is the communication of insight.
Leo Rosten
If you want to tell people the truth, make
them laugh, otherwise they will kill you.
Oscar Wilde
I think people are funny even if crazy.
It is acceptable to be a crazy politico?
If pundits were not so dangerous?
We could watch news and laugh?
I saw some of the Rose Garden.
A Magnolia Tree almost cried.
The gang ate Bison last night.
We should crash State meals.
We could sip red catsup brew.
Politicians (still) kill & scalp?
I heard Buffalo was served.
I guess they ate cat soup too.
Thanks for the comment.
Even if I am with Peeper?
I wonder what folks do.
.........(¯`v´¯) (¯`v´¯)
☼•*¨`*•.¸.(ˆ◡ˆ).¸.•*
............... *•.¸.•* ♥⋆★•❥ Thanx & Smiles (ツ) & ♥ L☼√Ξ ☼ ♥
⋆───★•❥ ☼ .¸¸.•*`*•.♥R
Pearl S. Buck wrote:
`
Perhaps one has to be very old
before one learns to be amused
rather than shocked . . .
`
I was thinking about her book:
`
The Good Earth
-
It's a easy read.
A old man hacks.
He makes tea.
He coughs.
Then the sad.
A sad wedding.
A farmer goes astray.
He seeks city riches.
I'm not anti-city.
Folk need both:
A safe relation.
Rural/Urban.
`
I love the train ride from Chicago.
I still can remember folks I met.
We are entertained by Strangers.
Messenger are (angelos) Guides.
-
Horace Rumode wrote:
`
There's no pleasure on Earth that's
worth sacrificing for the sake of a
extra five years in the geriatric
ward of the Sunset Old
People Home.
`
I believe . . .
Everything we thinks and say . . .
It's a 'Idea' we gleaned from some
Special Human Being we've met.
`
Yesterday I was gleaning from:
Robert H. Deluty
Too Old To Know
Everything
`
I read others here . . .
Sometimes I shout out.
Other folk guide thoughts.
`
`
on his deathbed
wondering what relatives
he'll see in hell
`
`
You wear a medal to me, more significant that any, Peacemaker.
I gave military medal. They get dusty.
If you hug with medals Ya get pricked.
I mean the pin has a nasty sharp pin.
I was in the VA one time for 21- days for my right lower leg. That was daffy . . .
Spring Daffodils were in bloom. I (still) see vases of Daffodils and I smell them.
I spent two-months in DCs VAMC for a left calf (no moo) festering war wound.
Nature's Force, nurses, PA (physicians) and cooks in the Kitchen save lives.
Ay, Nutrition!
Hi, Barbara,
and suzie etc.,
VA staff is nice.
I agree with . . . .
You meet Elders,
Daughters of WW2,
They haul Pap Pa,
`
Sad/sigh. Youth too . . .
I see returning Youth . . .
A 1,000 mile stare . .
`
I see their worried spouse,
and their children with them.
You meet wonderful people.
`
VA orthopedic clinic . . .
Iraq Vet amputee
wishes he died in Iraq
`
War is a manifestation.
Soldiers 'touch' Evil.
Mystery. Abyss. Dark.
Ponder Fire's Purging.
`
suzie. I worried ref:
my street compliment.
Now I sense you two`
`
Do get it.
Beyond ward . . .
Beyond wars . . .
No words can tell.
Nothing to Fear.
If . . . We no Hate.
Love always. Amen.
That means ` so be it.