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Open Poetry #46
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Revisiting White Christmas (April 30, 1975) {a repost}
| Open Poetry #46 |
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Revisiting White Christmas (April 30, 1975) {a repost} |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows 
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Some days the ground shakes and I don't remember why, each year it takes a bit more before puzzle pieces fit so I can recognize images again, you see, little earthquakes happen here all the time but no one pays attention, like chump change like thump and crump of mortar rounds don't make nobody jump, the dead don't know what hit 'em and they don't care that I'm alive so I keep moving, like when the temperature was rising. I always stay busy today, for me it's the best way to ignore memories, though nothing makes them go away; we sure did tell some lies those days and make some hot pants promises, always tell them anything to get a kiss, but that's the way it is when you're stalking bliss trying to dance in the world of political romance, and we sure did put on a good show though, bent them over the table don't you know, theater in the round all around well look at that they're all around, who would notice if a few more go down, and ever since Bing started singing the temperature kept rising. I was going out today, or maybe tomorrow, or maybe I could stay someone's always willing to pay, even after tomorrow when there'd be no more tomorrows; my god how we gonna move ‘em all, how could we just walk away, would this hollow pearl really fall, how could it stand when it was built on spice and ice and opium, and there'd be no help at all just that last radio call just hitchers in the sky trying to survive when the temperature was rising. Could I go back to being someone in the world when being no one here felt so soft and comfortable that my own skin was my best shirt, and then there was all the money that I'd made, they said I had a special skill set I wasn't just crawling in dirt with grunts looking for the safest bet, I was a master craftsman, in a workshop where almost every other tool and blade seemed dull and bent someone like me was heaven sent; be nice though to find another trade, ‘cause here we were running out of shade and it didn't help to be among the few who knew it all along, even before the temperature kept rising. Should we stay, no one asked me, those who could already knew my kind of stories always go over the side, am I really gonna leave hell I'm wearing all I need, OK I suppose I had to find a ride; time to hook a jump seat with the castle jarheads, we owed each other that at least; loud noises real loud the kind I just can't hear, the kind that made me feel empty deep inside, would I be the last to die? Nah that slot was just filled. Semper Fi! Check the weather? Yeah yesterday, it was 105 and rising. ©2005, 2006, 2010 by icebox |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Strange, the things that return to us when the earth goes bump in the night.  Thank you. And not only for the poem. |
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Cpat Hair
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793 |
I'm surprised.... only one other comment on this.. far far too well written and the things it says to important for any of us to forget...to honor.. |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Charly...So much left inside to ride out life and recall, sometimes all, mostly too much to bare...it's hot here, must be hot there. |
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Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
Sad part is nothing changes and the temperature just keeps rising, only it seems to be speeding up lately. I guess it will finally blow a hole in the sky. Ida |
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Dadygoose Member
since 2010-01-01
Posts 162A Communist country |
The American Forces Vietnam Network: The temperature in Saigon is 105 degrees and rising. And Bing croons, from an old, scratchy gramophone: I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, Just like the ones I use to know. The hysterical mob in the embassy swimming pool, Marines holding them back with tear-gas shots, The last chopper lifting off the roof, And sleigh bells in the snow. April 30, 1975 Hey, nobody's human! |
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