Evil wicked mean and nasty
A little pissed off, but mostly happy
An angry vet can leave a mark
The FBI did hear me bark
They sent a narc to be my friend
I was young and failed to comprehend
We were never guilty of any crime
But they dropped the hammer big time
For trying to stop the war we fought
They wanted to stop our freedom of thought
Nixon went down and we were acquitted
If the truth was known, it was them we outwitted
Jim Hale
July 30 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
I Can't Believe I Avoided Time for So Long
I think it was already a month ago that I noticed a new Warrior Writers book was in the works and had a call out for submissions. I meant to get back on right away after I saw that e-mail, but I think that "right away" slipped away a month ago already and I think after I write this posting I'm going to look for my last posting on this blog and think about how long it has been.
I have been writing a whole lot more, and also conspicuously less in some areas. I wanted to enter a creative non-fiction scholarship essay contest in Spring of this year (deadline April 2011) and I decided some kind of account of my deployment would be good to write. After all, I wanted to win the money ($10,000 prize sounds very fine to a struggling single mother) and the climate is ripe for war stories, so I figured I would try.
The problem is I can't remember anything the way it should be told.
My memory is fragmented, my internal timeline is off, and the journal I kept while I was in Iraq? I didn't even MENTION that I was in Iraq one single time.
I was thinking I'd post some fragments on here every few days, and hope for some words of encouragement, workshop advice, or...
Oh, who knows.
I absolutely have to keep writing,
is all.
I have been writing a whole lot more, and also conspicuously less in some areas. I wanted to enter a creative non-fiction scholarship essay contest in Spring of this year (deadline April 2011) and I decided some kind of account of my deployment would be good to write. After all, I wanted to win the money ($10,000 prize sounds very fine to a struggling single mother) and the climate is ripe for war stories, so I figured I would try.
The problem is I can't remember anything the way it should be told.
My memory is fragmented, my internal timeline is off, and the journal I kept while I was in Iraq? I didn't even MENTION that I was in Iraq one single time.
I was thinking I'd post some fragments on here every few days, and hope for some words of encouragement, workshop advice, or...
Oh, who knows.
I absolutely have to keep writing,
is all.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Where Am I?
Where am I?
Swinging to and fro
through the hoops
you have conditioned
me to adapt;
to the changes
you desire most.
Where am I?
On the short train
to hell
fire blazing on my trail
as I consider your
final destiny.
Where am I?
Holding on to nothing
in the air
that suffocates me
and stifles my very words;
words you don't
want to hear.
Where am I?
Inside a tiny jar
struggling to climb
up to the brim
just to be shoved
back to the base
once again.
Where am I?
Somewhere I never
hoped to be
deep inside your head
yet colored
and painted red for hate
you hate me
and that's okay.
Where am I?
Facing such confusion
anger and pain
time for seclusion to take
up camp and stalk
my brain.
Where am I?
Leaving comforts
and joy in the
wind as I step
out to be new again.
Where am I?
I am here
going down the hill
of hope faster
than a bullet
can make one choke.
I am everywhere
you look with those vacant eyes
try, try, try
to move on with
this opportunity
to be simply
just
me.
I am here.
Swinging to and fro
through the hoops
you have conditioned
me to adapt;
to the changes
you desire most.
Where am I?
On the short train
to hell
fire blazing on my trail
as I consider your
final destiny.
Where am I?
Holding on to nothing
in the air
that suffocates me
and stifles my very words;
words you don't
want to hear.
Where am I?
Inside a tiny jar
struggling to climb
up to the brim
just to be shoved
back to the base
once again.
Where am I?
Somewhere I never
hoped to be
deep inside your head
yet colored
and painted red for hate
you hate me
and that's okay.
Where am I?
Facing such confusion
anger and pain
time for seclusion to take
up camp and stalk
my brain.
Where am I?
Leaving comforts
and joy in the
wind as I step
out to be new again.
Where am I?
I am here
going down the hill
of hope faster
than a bullet
can make one choke.
I am everywhere
you look with those vacant eyes
try, try, try
to move on with
this opportunity
to be simply
just
me.
I am here.
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