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Patriotic Poems
War and Tragedy

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Contributor: Gary Jacobson || Poem Categories

The Park country as flag
Beware! There be monsters dwelling in my park
Hiding in shadows dawn to dark
Regaled by those who dare in their park embark
Waiting to feast on my blood
Waiting to suck out my brotherhood.

The monsters in my park will eat you alive;
Biding, hiding in shadows of this jungled dive
Where on death they thrive
Big, bold hairy ones
Bloody horrible scary ones.

The monsters in this land of egregious hurt
Seek grunts like me just pounding dirt
They do not at all wish me well
Not in this verdant pell-mell
Where it'd make their day to send me straight to hell.

Oh fearsome games with young minds monster's play
On this poor boy's soul demon's still to this day prey
To bring me down to their level of depravity
Robbing from me life's sanctity
With glee turning sacred values topsy-turvy.

The demons make killers of me, just like him
Sharpening hunting skills while spirits they dim
Calling "Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you die."
When they've robbed me of my inner self grim,
Who will for this lonely shell cry?

For humping this park indelibly changes you
Unalterably rearranges you
Permeated by a new set of senses imbue
Leaving no longer the man you used to be
Who came-in country to set a beleaguered people free.

Nam's shadows still cloud your mind
Still with survival's anguish grind
With sobering guilt the Nam does withering bind
Constant anxieties still have you jerking and jumping
Constantly looking for monsters who come killing.
By Gary Jacobson
Copyright 2006
Listed November 4, 2010
 

About Author... In 1966-67, Gary Jacobson served with B Co 2nd/7th 1st Air Cavalry in Vietnam as a combat infantryman and is the recipient of the Purple Heart.

Gary, who resides in Idaho writes stories he hopes are never forgotten, perhaps compelled by a Vietnamese legend that says, "All poets are full of silver threads that rise inside them as the moon grows large." So Gary says he writes because "It is that these silver threads are words poking at me � I must let them out. I must! I write for my brothers who cannot bear to talk of what they've seen and to educate those who haven't the foggiest idea about the effect that the horrors of war have on boys-next-door."

Visit Gary Jacobson's site for more information

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War and Tragedy Poems | Poem Categories