Sunday, July 6, 2008

me, myself, and mind...

I sit all day and do not a thing
in boredom's realm I am king
no muse to coax
no song to sing
just me, myself, and mind

I pace the floor, move back and forth
moving south...no! to the north
I know not where
but must go forth
just me, myself, and mind

along the path where we three walk
we dance and twirl to Jonquils mock
a silent tune
a tribute to Bach
just me, myself, and mind

as butterflies float above our head
we decide t'go south instead
cool breeze flowing
arms widespread
just me, myself, and mind

we hold hands fast and spin around
until so dizzy we run aground
daisy's replete
I make my crown
for me, myself, and mind

my madness...(WARNING: EXTREME VISUAL CONTENT)

September 11, 2001- the nightmare begins...

I am the President of a small Record Company and Recording Studio in Scranton, PA. I receive an early morning phone call from my mom...she knows I do not have a TV and immediately tells me to go find one. I wake up my daughter, bundle her up, and am out the door in one minute. Three minutes later I am at a friends house horrified at what I am watching on the television. I thought my sister was in New York...she was supposed to be there...I couldn't reach her. Phone lines were jammed as the second plane hit...all I could do was watch in abject humility and terror. I watched and cried as rescue ops went into motion...screamed out loud as I watched a man jump to his death, and with my heart in my throat I watched as the Pentagon was hit...right where my brother worked. I called everyone I knew at the Pentagon, called their cell phones, called home phones...no answer. No answer from my sister-in-law who worked down the street in Crystal City. I finally called the Office of the Secretary of Defense, a private number...they had no information as yet on survivors. It was eight hours later that I found out my brother had crawled out of the wreckage with his team. Shortly after, I received a call from my sister...she had missed her flight...she was ok as well. I took a deep breath and went into action. I left Kat, my daughter, with a friend, and made my way downtown to AMR. It was chaos at the station. Every team wanted to take a vehicle and head up north to help. The company sent two trucks and several teams. Many went on their own, and my partner, in all his wisdom, convinced me to stay home.

It has been many years since that day. My life took a new direction...a path I never thought to be on. Yet every day, I take the time to watch the events that unfolded on a day our Government perpetrated the largest massacre in our history after the Indian Massacres. Did I always believe thusly? No, I did not. And like so many others before me, I felt a great need to serve my country, a call to duty, and a need for retribution and closure. What I got instead was a nightmare. A nightmare I live every day whether I am asleep or awake. Welcome to my nightmare.





AIF


Diyala Province 2006 - I am not allowed to tell you when, and I am not allowed to tell you where...a foot patrol finds a truck camouflaged in the bushes...nine decapitated bodies are in the back...been there quite some time, a feast for the beetles and no match for the beating sun. 50 meters away, an underground chamber...torture chamber...nine heads, one chainsaw, one chair, two ropes, 1" wire cable (a favorite treat of Iraqi torturers...beat a man across the feet, elbows, shoulders and knees). One man loses it and starts stacking the heads in a pyramid, a game he is playing to overcome the trauma.

Diyala Province - I am not allowed to tell you when, and I am not allowed to tell you where...the guards fall asleep and every policeman is massacred in an orchestrated dual VBIED attack. No one survives the slaughter. In the photos below you will see a floor inches deep with their blood, the chain reaction of cars blowing up and the final results.High intensity scorch markingInside the stationInside of initial attack vehicleCar-B-Que

Diyala Province - I am not allowed to tell you when, and I am not allowed to tell you where...VBIEDIED

Diyala Province - I am not allowed to tell you when, and I am not allowed to tell you where...VBIEDVBIEDthe driver up close and personalthe passengerInside of initial attack vehicle

Diyala Province - I am not allowed to tell you when, and I am not allowed to tell you where...a marketplace massacreon the sceneon the scenenot enough roomoooops...beginning of the stackreally close to the blastclose to the blastreally close to the blastPieces of eight...close to the blastclose to the blastLet the bodies hit the floor...Let the bodies hit the floor...makeshift Iraqi morgue

In the clinic...patients were brought to us when the Iraqi's did not have the level of care needed...IASF Ambush victimISF Ambush VictimPhotobucketentrance woundAll ate up...PhotobucketPhotobucket

These are just a few of my nightmares...from my first tour of duty. It did not get any better for the second.

shattered...

If you have read "Welcome to My Nightmares" then you know that I joined the army for no other reason than to serve my country, and serve it well.

When I entered Basic Training, I smoked four packs a day, was 50lbs overweight, had led a sedentary, "office" lifestyle for over 11 years, I could barely do three push-ups, and running? Forgedaboudit! Day 1 of Basic Training had me cold turkey off of those four packs a day, in a platoon of 53, 18 year old shrieking, drama queens. All I could think of was how much I really wanted a smoke, and how profoundly stupid I had been the day I signed the dotted line.

But then they gave us something. Something that made me NOT step forward when a week into this adventure, the 1 SG stood in front of us, and asked if there was anyone who wanted to quit, right now, now questions asked, no penalties whatsoever.

They gave us a card. On one side was the "Soldier's Creed" and on the other were the "Army Values".

The Soldier's Creed:

I am an American Soldier.
I am a Warrior and a member of a team.
I serve the people of the United States and live the Army Values.
I WILL ALWAYS PLACE THE MISSION FIRST.
I WILL NEVER EXCEPT DEFEAT.
I WILL NEVER QUIT.
I WILL NEVER LEAVE A FALLEN COMRADE.
I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough,
trained and proficient in my warrior tasks and drills.
I always maintain my arms, my equipment, and myself.
I am an expert and I am a professional.
I stand ready to deploy, engage, and destroy the enemies
of the United States of America in close combat.
I am a guardian of freedom and the American way of life.
I am an American Soldier.

(The words in all CAPS are what we call the Warrior Ethos)

The Army Values:

LOYALTY - Bear true faith and allegiance to the U.S. Constitution, the Army, your unit, and other soldiers.
DUTY - Fulfill your obligations.
RESPECT - Treat people as they should be treated.
SELFLESS-SERVICE - Put the welfare of the Nation, the Army, and your subordinates before your own.
HONOR - Live up to all the Army Values.
INTEGRITY - Do what is right, legally and Morally.
PERSONAL COURAGE - Face fear, danger or adversity (physical or moral).

We had to learn them all by heart, but I not only learned them by heart, I took them to heart. Something in which, I will regret until my dying day.

At the end of Basic Training, we all have to take a PT Test (Physical Training). There is a standard every soldier must meet for their age and gender. It is the only standard in the Army, that after four years of service, I have seen enforced with any regularity whatsoever. During my training, I had shed those fifty extra pounds, I had successfully quit smoking, I could do 30 push-ups and 54 sit-ups, but I still couldn't run. I had to meet the "run" standard, or I would not be a soldier, would not be able to serve my country, would not graduate Basic Training the next day.

So on that day, I began to run. I was slow, my knees hurt (after all, I was 36), I couldn't breathe which was made worse by the fact that I started to cry. But then it hit me...I am an American Soldier.

It did not matter that I had not graduated yet...I WOULD ALWAYS PLACE THE MISSION FIRST!
It did not matter that I could not breathe...I WOULD NEVER ACCEPT DEFEAT!
It did not matter that my knees hurt...I WOULD NEVER QUIT!
And then a young man from my platoon, the Wolverines, saw me struggling and came to run by my side and coach me along...I WOULD NEVER LEAVE A FALLEN COMRADE!

I am an American Soldier...I am a Warrior and a member of team. I kept saying the "Soldier's Creed" over and over...my stride became longer, my breathing easier, my pace faster..and as "the Eye of the Tiger" pumped out from the speakers ( I know, cheesy...but that's what they were playing), the last person on the track finished their run with time to spare. I had made it...I truly was an American Soldier now, and those words (The Soldier's Creed and the Army Values), were etched into my heart.

Now, however, 3 years 8 months 3 days 16 hours and 26 minutes after that fateful day, and after all of my experiences in that time, those words that were so fondly etched into my heart, have now been burned from existence by the very people that should have been carrying them in their heart as well. 3 years 8 months 3 days 16 hours and 26 minutes of neglect, people lying, stealing and cheating, oversight, misuse, abuse, mismanagement, power-plays, waste, fraud, lack of honor, character, morals, principles, have all combined to scar me, and to rip at my very heart.

Truer words had never been spoken than the day my Drill Sergeant, SSG Royce Littleton, said in Basic Training..."This is the real Army here. Once you leave here (Ft. Jackson, SC), it will be a whole other world. So enjoy it here, in the real Army, while you can."

Here are a few of the brands that have scarred my heart, my vision, my beliefs:

* I arrive at Ft. Campbell in April. My unit, C Co 426 BSB, 1 BCT, 101 ABN, is down in Louisiana at the Joint Readiness Training Center (JRTC). Since I was already an EMT with years of experience, I did not have to go to the first portion of Advanced Individual Training (AIT). My orders stated, however, that I was to report to Ft. Sam Houston for the final 10 weeks of training, and in the meantime, I would receive on-the-job-training from my company. My unit never sent me to those last ten weeks. Ten weeks where I was supposed to have learned how to be a "combat medic", not just an EMT-B. A few months later we deployed to Iraq. I cut my teeth in "combat medicine" with the 1/32 CAV, the 278th National Guard of TN, and Special Forces in Diyala Province, one of the nastiest places in Iraq at the time. For those of you who read "Welcome to My Nightmares", understand that all of that was done without me knowing anything about combat medicine, Tactical Combat Casualty Care, or Care Under Fire. I knew nothing but how to save a man's life medically. The men and women of the 278th, 1/32 CAV, and SF, were the ones that taught me about being a real soldier, a battle soldier.

* Spc Colburn, my squad leader, approaches me and tells me that I have a mission. My mission is an outing with the Chaplain...the Company needs to send someone and they selected me. Why? I have no idea as every single one of my personal documents states that I am an atheist. I tell Spc Colburn this, and that I respectfully decline the mission to a religious outing. Spc Colburn then tells me, "Burns, just go, don't rock the boat". When I continue to object, he tells me that I need to go talk to SSG A. (SSG Anderson), our platoon Sergeant. When I go to speak to SSG Anderson, and tell him my situation, he tells me it won't be that bad because it is also a BOSS event (Better Opportunity for Single Soldiers). I, once again object, even more so this time, because not only is it a Christian outing (and I am an Atheist), but also a BOSS event (I was getting married in a few weeks, hence, NOT single). SSG Anderson then spun around in his chair and told me: "Go get some Jesus, Burnsy...you need some Jesus in your life." I turned and left the office and ran into Spc Colburn. He asked me what Big A (SSG Anderson) had said, and I told him. Spc Colburn said: "well that sounds good to me, the workbooks are the dispatch bins in the office, make sure you pick them up before COB (close of business)." I turn around and go to get the books. Holding them in my hands, I begin to cry at the title. Not only am I being forced to go on a religious outing for single, neither of which I am, the program we would be working throughout the day was "the Seven Highly Effective Habits of Teens", something I just gone through with my 14 year old daughter. Me! A 37 year old, engaged, atheist was being forced to go on a singles, Christian, teen outing! How would you feel? I was crushed, and my fiance' was just plain pissed.

* I have been left out in the field, left in the cold, freezing weather, forced to live in the barracks when younger people of lesser rank were allowed to move off of post, denied BAS, denied BAH, denied the same assistance for child support that everyone else receives, denied FSA (Family Separation Allowance) even though my husband is in Iraq and my daughter in California, my ACM was given to me a year-and-half after it was awarded because it was "put" in the back of a filing cabinet when 1/32 CAV brought it to my company for me (I didn't even know I had received it...kinda important for promotion points!), my Good Conduct Medal for three years of service without any negative marks was handed to me by someone of lesser rank, on a folded sheet of copy paper, stapled at the top. I was within 50' of incoming, exploding mortar rounds on more than three occasions for which others received awards and I received nothing, under fire many more, and have been evacuated from theater because of a back injury. In 3 years 8 months 3 days 16 hours and 26 minutes, I have never been talked to about the promotion board, never gone to the board for promotion, and have never been counseled as to why I was not being sent. Next month, I will have been in long enough, that I will just go to the board automatically without recommendation.

* A month after we deployed, my husband set up a secret Yahoo account. I needed to talk to him, and had been begging him for months to read my emails, respond to my emails, call me, anything...yet he refused. I did not even receive a Merry Christmas, Happy New Year's, or Happy Birthday from him (no cards, no presents, no emails...nothing but an email a few weeks later saying it was too crowded). In May, of this year, I found out why. He had been talking to other women the entire time, and had no time to talk to his wife...even when she was injured, or burned, or just burned out. He received naked pictures of women doing various things to themselves, chatted online with them telling them he was single, had cyber-sex with them, and while he was telling me that the lines were too long for the internet and phones on the holidays, he was online telling another woman Merry Christmas and Happy New Year's. I printed out the pictures and the conversations and the account, and I contacted his 1 SG, 1SG Lovelace, politely asking him to make Patrick cease and desist with this behavior. When confronted by his 1 SG, my husband lied. I gave 1 SG Lovelace proof that he was lying to him as well as all of the proof that I had retrieved. Nothing was done. They did not care that their soldier was lying to them, cheating on his wife, or had no morals, or character whatsoever. So my husband, now having carte blanche to cheat on his wife and lie to his Commanders and everyone else, bought a Yahoo Personals account and has been shopping for pussy the entire time. He states that he is "divorced and a very good person." HAH!!! What a fuckin' joke. I contacted Yahoo Personals as per their agreement about posting profiles that are untrue, and they could not have cared less, even though there are disclaimers all over their site saying they would not tolerate it. So if any ladies out there happen across my husband, I warn you now, that he is the worst sort of man to ever walk the face of the Earth. You can view his profile at: Profile ID: personals-1211187774-464996 or simply search the personals using 34 years old, with 50 miles of el paso, TX, athletic body type (lie), white (caucasian), some college. His name is Patrick, and he should be the first profile to come up. He is wearing his uniform (disgusting!)

I could go on forever and a day with how I have been mistreated, abused, and violated. So I will leave off here with this:

On September 13, 2007, there were two areas on my SRP form 2795 (the checklist that must be completed before you go to Iraq), that stated that I was non-deployable (meaning I could not go). My Commander, Cpt Craig J. Reuscher got around all of this by doing two things. First, he not only signed off on my SRP packet (DA Form 7425) as my Commander, he also signed off as the Validating Deployment Official. Secondly, he wrote a legal statement on my DA Form 2795 stating this: "Soldier is being medically cared for/monitored by BN PA (Battalion Physician's Assistant). Soldier's medical condition will be monitored, and her physical limitations will be mitigated." Funny thing was, as soon as we arrived in Iraq, my Commander attached me to another unit, 1 STB, 1 BCT, 1 AD. Never once did anyone from my platoon contact me, in any way in the 8 months that I was there. Nor did the BN PA, as she was tasked out to another COB altogether and for all I know, had no idea that the Commander had made this statement. Nor was I contacted by the Commander or the First Sergeant. No one was caring for me...as per the commanders' statement. No one was monitoring me medically...as per the Commanders' statement. And I can tell you with all certainty that my physical limitations were not mitigated in any way shape or form as per the Commanders' statement of deployability.

Did I mind being deployed? Absolutely not. I love my job with a passion unheard of. The was nary a moment, when I was not on mission, that I was not studying to be a better medic, or taking care of my equipment. I performed my duties each and every day above and beyond what was expected, and I did it each and every day in spite of the terrible pain that I was in.

No...I don't believe in anything anymore. I serve a corrupted government, my husband is a bastard, and most of the people I work with are the worst sort of humans.

coffee heathens...

I have worked within the Emergency Medical System for many years. So far be it for me, to say that I am any sort of coffee prig. For I have imbibed on the seventeen hour pot many times. I have, however, experienced a truly fresh cup of coffee or two in my lifetime and know this:
1) it truly is better than sex and 2) it truly is better than great sex.

So when one has the opportunity to experience a delight such as a truly fresh cup of Bourbon Santos...aromatic, with just the right balance of bitter acids and dark body, one does not waste the nectar of Gods, nor does one extirpate the flavor and aroma by adding artificial flavors and sweeteners.

IS NOTHING SACRED!!!!

I watched in terror as I heard the little yellow packages of bitter surfactant torn open and unceremoniously dumped into the, dark and rich, prize. I was further dismayed...no horrified, when I saw the man tip up the bottle of Nestle Coffee Mate Coffee Creamer (French Vanilla) and further murder a beautiful wonder of the world. Then...

I nearly fell over laughing when the nectar exploded out of the cup with disdain.

What the "coffee heathen" did not know, obviously as uneducated in science as he is in the coffee drinking department, is that the phosphates and silicates in that unnatural mix of flavor imbuing yuck, overreacts to high temperatures.

I reverently set down my nectar as I continued to chuckle for fear that I might lose even a drop. When I could contain myself once again, I simply sat and enjoyed a truly unique, flavorful, fresh, and wonderful treat.


for my husband

I know a man so torn inside
love thrown away, truth defied
alone in life
he will abide
for there is no one
to confide.

I know a man himself evades
every day, new charades
walls are built
new blockades
and every day
his true self fades.

I know the man who closes his eyes
deep inside, his heart cries
too many hurt
too many lies
and every day
his self despise.

Why not me, he shakes his fist
never knowing what he's missed
friendships gone
love dismissed
there is no witness
he just exists.

I know a man who wants a place
safe and sound removes the face
alone again
in his own space
another left behind
disgraced.

Every now and then he feels
and before himself he kneels
truth is twisted
mind reveals
the gushing wound
he just reseals.

I pray one day this man will stop
and look around at what he's sewn
lives destroyed
support his throne
for he is king
of none.

I know a man who has felt unloved
entire life, pushed and shoved
left alone
soul degloved
I wish he could feel
how much he is loved.

For mo Sioghra, my husband, my love, my always

ouch...

ouch... goddamnit!
quit looking at me
smokey swirls rise to
veil your look
the air inside just perfect
cold and stale
smell of nicotine
fingers pale and yellow

in-drawn breath and
i feel the burn
just for a moment
ease the pain
the air outside sickening
hot and humid
the smell of human
honor gone morals fade

i sit here alone
day after day
pain biting as teeth
of wild pig
I watch them go by
automatons
working for the man
never feeling reality

"I live life to the fullest"
what a load of shit
if you truly did
you'd feel the terror I do
as I watch you
taking the same fucking steps
day after day
you walk the same path

yet you plead of change
smokey swirls rise
i deeply inhale and
and anger fades
just for a moment
along with pain then
teeth sink in hard
for you do nothing

chip, chip, chip, chip
that is the only difference you know
the anger grows
feasting on soul
you freely give
that which is not yours
I only loaned it to you
and now I pay the price

Freedoms tortuously given
that from bloodstained hands
millions gone , thousands more
yet you give away your gift
you "live life to the fullest" though
you know not what that is
smokey swirls rise
I taste disgust
teeth loosed
I shut my blinds.

not on my watch

the quiet prayers of war
do solemnly fill my mind
as mortars fall...hot fragments fly
prayers to see those left behind

my silent screams of anguish
do echo within my head
as bullets rip...tear through flesh
a flower blooms venetian red

two more white blooms quickly now
do move to slow the leaving
as souls do drift...on river styx
in to Hell I go retrieving

the quiet prayers of war
are raging through my mind
I slit a throat...to save a life
this soul to take has been declined

the pulse of war at full tilt
I close my eyes and pray
as rotors thump...debris cuts flesh
I say goodbye and draw away

between somewhere and nowhere...

My eyes are dry now
as is my heart a lifeless thing
soul adrift
between somewhere and nowhere sails luffing
on glassy sea called loneliness
where all you see
a reflection of you
no comfort
no hope
no horizon
a warm welcome home - no
for there is none
just the darkness
of being
alone.

Once I sailed
oh! how heavy the mainsail
filled with dreams
mast rising high and straight
keel in sure direction
horizon seen
unbearable light of joy
bursting
my course true
ripples the water
I follow rushing
the cool breeze
peace.

then water shallowed
ran aground
mast felled
keel broken, sails loosed
the tide draws
direction
at the mercy of dark waters
fated waters
of destiny
foul winds of loneliness
I sleep.

moving picture...

The fear roils through me
The sweat begins to bead
Sleep eludes
Chaos controls
As thoughts of death
Do take the lead.

A moving picture within my mind
I close my eyes but do not find
The cure for thought
The one to blind
Time is skewed and reality maligned.

A quiet place in light to hide
My body begins to shake
Sanity runs
Control evades
As thoughts of terror
Begin to quake.

Tremors start and wrack the bone
Film of thought is setting tone
Terror is king
Upon its' throne
The order given and sanity has flown.

The sadness overwhelms me
Tears fall upon my cheek
A mindless scream
Silence reigns
The dance of horror
I do not speak.

For if I do reality may come
Feelings withheld no longer numb
The evil is borne
I am the sum
A Hell which there is no escape from.

a hug from an angel...

It was Winter 1970, although seasons did not much matter in Los Angeles. The only things measured in the concrete jungle was the smog and the length of my tiny body the day I was born.


They say that some remember their birth…I have no recollection. No. In fact, my earliest childhood memory is one I have yet to understand.


I was three years old. It was early morning Christmas, 1973. I was wearing my favorite white, cotton nightgown. Pretty pink baby roses ran along the hem lines with lace at the collar and bunched sleeves. The sleeves were good for chewing when the monsters made their way beneath my bed.


It was cool that morning; I remember the cool black marble under my feet as I sneaked down the hall to the living room. I turned the corner into the room, stepped onto the warmer carpet and scrunching up my toes, buried them deep down in the pile to warm them.


I nervously gnawed at my sleeve and shifted foot to foot…afraid to be caught, while my eyes adjusted to the light. At first, I saw the twinkle of the lights amid the branches of the Douglas Fir and remember just staring…awed at how pretty it was. Then out of the corner of my eye, through the sliding glass door leading to the backyard and swimming pool, I saw another light.


It was intense in the middle, then soft and warm around the edges. I was transfixed. It was so very bright, but my eyes did not hurt…it made me feel…safe, warm, loved, and special. After a few minutes, the time it takes for a child to assess a person, I raised my arms to the light as if it were my grandpapa and wanted to be lifted for a hug, or to give one.


As it came toward me, I remember its' warmth and strength, and I remember my mom picking me up into her arms, from my bed later that morning, for Christmas morning snuggles. I do not remember ever having looked at the presents I had sneaked out to see, and do not remember how I got back to bed…but I do remember the hug from an angel that I have carried the whole of my life. I try to give a little of that to everyone that I meet.

my midnight angel...

An angel came to me last night

An empty shell is what she saw when she entered

For a hole in my pocket had emptied it of all my smiles

I tried to find them…I looked and looked

As I stared off into space

Back and forth,

Foot to foot,

I shifted…

Not knowing where to find that which I had lost

Standing in a pool of tears

Sore eyes swollen almost shut with pain

My angel touched my shoulder and said to cry no more

I tried to find the strength…I looked and looked

Deep inside as I stared into her eyes

Up and down,

Floor to face,

I breathed…

Searching for an answer to which there is none

Catatonic, I watched as she poured the water

Steam swirling into air as thoughts through mind

A smile formed as the face of my daughter appeared in the mist

I had found one…I had looked and looked

There in steam of a loving cup of tea

Made by an angel

Ethereal face

I saw...

My pocket sparse,

Yet once again replete

with smiles for the world

the weary...

Acrid smell of sweat pervades

Doubt of mission mind invades

Tired men weary of war

Violence shakes them to the core

Faces covered, dirt and grime

What will clean them...only time

For in their form, souls are dying

Those left home for them are crying

There is no respite...no release

There is no solace for souls to feast

For in this place of no design

There is no healing of the mind

When we go home we'll find no peace

In our dreams the madness beats

In due time old wounds will fade

Though scars will mark the time we paid.

In giving up what we held dear

A year long tour of death and fear

All for a people long time lost

We'll never know just what it cost

The acrid smell of sweat pervades

Mission final...thoughts evade

Tired men weary of war

They are home now fear no more

fly...(haiku)

Buzzering around

Irritating little thing

Snap! I clipped your wing

love...(haiku)

meal of mind prepared

a heart, soul, and mind consumed

hunter sated rests

silence...(haiku)

the night is quiet

silent pause cataclysmic

icy thoughts replete

rising (haiku)

Watch the steady rise

Fingertips creep from the grave

Shadows rising moon

I need a pencil (haiku)

Thoughts in mind abound

Words to page I can not write

For I'm lacking ink

"snap" (haiku)

Memories not lost

Caught in a moment of time

Snap goes the shutter

phonecall

I sat and listened to your voice


So deep, dark, rich and true


I listened as your life unfol'd


Even cried a time or two



Thank you for the lovely night


For snuggling on the phone


Thank you for the gift of warmth


My heart - your heart, as one



One peaceful, warm, and blissful night


A gift unwrapp'd...surprise


Thank you for the gift of voice


A picture of you in my minds' eye



For John Hall, Author

the shield...

Emotions run

Slice through heart

Is there one

Shield me

Worlds of words

Knife through mind

Is there none

Shield me

Sounds invade

Dash all thought

Where is one

Shield me

Sights surround

Blind all vision

To all none

Shield me

Feelings abound

Sensitize touch

None but one

Shield me

Thoughts evade

Madness drones

I have none

To shield me

how we meet...

kiss of lips

so soft...sweet

skin to skin

how we meet

twisted, tangled

knot of love

feel of you

Heaven above

touch of hand

so gentle...kind

o' soft sweep

lose my mind

simple smile

so sweet...bright

touch of heart

heat the night

small sweet tremors

bring to knees

gentle sigh

cool, sweet breeze

body to body

so we entwine

feast of kings

o' god of mine

this heart of mine...

This heart is yours

and yours alone,

My heart your garden

my soul your home,

The tiny light that burns for you

will never die, will never skew,

It will burn for all to see

there to light eternity,

This heart is yours

and yours alone,

My heart your garden

my soul your home.

I love you Peanut. :)

across the winter of my mind...

Across the winter of my mind I run

Prey hunted by baying dog

Thoughts press through my icy soul

Frozen in time eternal...

Chained to post of life I run

In circles...

Shrieking as hunter bites

Breaking free...cries of despair

Shattering heart

Rending of Soul

I weep...

Darkness consumes

Creeping cold fingers prepare meal of mind

Writhing ecstasy of madness

It feeds

One last bit of hope...

Heart, soul, mind consumed

Imprint of life pressed into icy plateau

Evidence of what used to be

In the winter of my mind

Hunter sated

Rests

one chance...

This heart of mine...

It breaks it cries,

No solace found,

As my soul dies...

Loneliness...

Deep and black,

No beauty found,

No light through crack...

No air, can't breathe...

So tight, so strong,

Its' grip complete,

the night so long...

Alone in anguish...

I despair,

No arms, no love,

To hold, to care...

A single tear...

Doth slip down cheek,

A life to end,

I dare not speak...

For if I bring...

This thought to life,

To end the pain,

To end the strife...

I might miss...

One chance given,

The chance of love,

The gift of Heaven.

dance of the eucalyptus...

The night is quiet…too quiet

Everything still as the indrawn breath; a silent pause before some cataclysmic event

I look to the tree across the street

I cannot see it, but I know it is there

The darkness of the desert is complete

My breathing slows, almost stops in an effort to not disturb the nights' meditation

A light…small, not quite red, peeks from the horizon

I go on alert, senses flaring, hunching down in my position a little more…

Can I be quieter, smaller, am I covered?

I watch as the light comes towards me

Eyes never veering from the target

All other senses reaching out to protect my position

Is it getting larger? Wider? More red and ominous?

I have no idea what it is

The utter darkness in which it breathes offers no reference

It wavers; no! …a steady march…my mind plays tricks

A distance off…no shot marked

I shift positions for better view

I breathe…a soulful sigh

It is simply the moon

I watch the steady rise

Shadows creep like fingertips from the grave

The familiar is now my enemy

For in the shadows of the rising moon

Nothing will be called friend

Least of all…imagination

The tree is now a silhouette

Black in the pale moonlight

The desert breeze begins its' journey

The tree, a mournful, eerie ballet to the applause of others

The company joins in

Bats call to one another

Lonely dogs howl

A cat moans its' pain in the distance

The dance continues

The memories flow

Graceful arms of the eucalyptus reach out for the breeze

They whistle and dance in macabre undulation

A tear falls

The tree is old; does it know?

Does it store the memories of battles past?

The dance a freakish memorial to souls lost

Has it ever seen love?

No…I do not believe it so

For if it had, the dance would not evoke tears

…Nor rend the soul

Enchanted night

O how I beseech thee now

Take me into your fold

Warm me from the winter chill of the desert

And thoughts that eat away at the soul

Inviting arms of

Mournful tree

Cry not for me

Dance your dance and know that I am safe

For the time being….

All I See...

An endless sea of sand is all I see before me...
rivers of blood flow, though evidence thereof
is soaked up all too rapidly by its' endless depths.

The only proof, black and white...a world away.
The sun challenges
mind and body
war pierces the heart
flays the soul and
lays it open so the darkest places
of desire and hope
love
will and character
become your life or your death.
The ravages will weigh and measure
each continually under the grueling conditions
and circumstance...woe be to those found wanting.

If God can be found
his face will surely be
in a sandy mirage...
for it is here that terror lives
breathes and procreates...
it is here that the battle must be waged.

For just as the ocean swells and
crests before the storm
the desert undulates with
palpable evil.
Hearts and minds
honor and humanity
contain.