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Array ( [sid] => 73188 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Flashbacks [time] => 2004-11-26 02:26:37 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Flashbacks

I am hideous, I am obscene
I am uncouth, I am unclean
Look at me, if you can
This is me, a broken man

Broken by death, daily faced
When in Vietnam, I was placed
Friends I lost, forever haunt
Horrors I saw, forever taunt

The Viet-cong were clever, they were cunning
I am sure they could smell us, when we were coming
Hiding behind bushes, in the shortest of grass
They would mow us down, as we tried to pass

Our B fifty twos, would bomb daily
Napalm being used, widespread and freely
Burning right through, layers of skin
A sight to behold, a sight so sickening

I myself was captured, imprisoned in Hoa Lo
What we prisoners went through, you’ll never know
Bones shattered, beaten with clubs, black and blue
One of their many tactics, in questioning you

Eventually freed, I was returned to my home land
A heroes welcome, people would understand
My purple heart, worn with such pride
While so much disgust, I felt deep inside

Treated like an animal, homeless, unemployed
I was only doing my duty, when we were deployed
Scum of the earth, of society, is what I appear to be
Living my life of destitute, with flashbacks of insanity
[comments] => 4 [counter] => 565 [topic] => 13 [informant] => parkman [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )

Flashbacks

Contributed by parkman on Friday, 26th November 2004 @ 02:26:37 AM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry

Flashbacks

I am hideous, I am obscene
I am uncouth, I am unclean
Look at me, if you can
This is me, a broken man

Broken by death, daily faced
When in Vietnam, I was placed
Friends I lost, forever haunt
Horrors I saw, forever taunt

The Viet-cong were clever, they were cunning
I am sure they could smell us, when we were coming
Hiding behind bushes, in the shortest of grass
They would mow us down, as we tried to pass

Our B fifty twos, would bomb daily
Napalm being used, widespread and freely
Burning right through, layers of skin
A sight to behold, a sight so sickening

I myself was captured, imprisoned in Hoa Lo
What we prisoners went through, you’ll never know
Bones shattered, beaten with clubs, black and blue
One of their many tactics, in questioning you

Eventually freed, I was returned to my home land
A heroes welcome, people would understand
My purple heart, worn with such pride
While so much disgust, I felt deep inside

Treated like an animal, homeless, unemployed
I was only doing my duty, when we were deployed
Scum of the earth, of society, is what I appear to be
Living my life of destitute, with flashbacks of insanity

Copyright Â© parkman ... [ 2004-11-26 02:26:37]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Flashbacks (User Rating: 1 )
by emystar on Friday, 26th November 2004 @ 03:50:49 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Wow this is very sad but written well.
I could never imagene what u must have beeen thru and it still hauting u.
I would never consider a soilder as scum of the Earth.
I thank God that people like u went and did what cha had to do. I know it must have been hell and still is hell for you but u will never be anything but very brave in this country galls eyes-n-heart.
luv, huggs, thanks, God blees u,
emy

Re: Flashbacks (User Rating: 1 )
by shelby on Friday, 26th November 2004 @ 05:16:59 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

my heart goes out to you and I dont think your scum or briandead you all did what you were called upon to do my husband went to nam so I understand these words and what you have said here
Michelle

Re: Flashbacks (User Rating: 1 )
by autumngreeneyes on Friday, 26th November 2004 @ 07:03:15 AM AEST
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my friend wrote this poem for the boy she went to the prom with..he was in Nam also..she was once a member of the site and the poem was posted here once. anyway, In honor of your brave service I know she'd love you to have it..

A Poem For Ken
(who saw many friends die in Vietnam)

His footsteps echo in his ears
as he walks across the floor.
Remembering the day he left
walking off to fight a war.
They didn’t exactly call it war,
but something else instead.
Unimportant is the name they used,
his friends are just as dead.
So many friends he left behind
he knows where each one fell.
Some days he thinks his mind was lost
that he left it there as well.
He had a choice, he could have run
and crossed a border that was near
He didn’t run, he fought instead
for the things that he held dear.
He held a gun in big strong hands
and braced against his chest.
Held near the muscled heart
where his sweethearts head should rest.
The memories still linger there
where he fought and where he cried
the country was so green and lush
where so many dear friends died.
He could have been the one that died
and hard as he may try;
He doesn’t know why he was spared
while others had to die.
It made a fence, inside his mind
piled high those bricks were built.
but one by one, they’re coming down.
The bricks made out of guilt.

©2001 Mary J. Zayas

Re: Flashbacks (User Rating: 1 )
by pixie on Friday, 26th November 2004 @ 09:19:21 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

a very neagative poem about yourself, *hugs* this ppem shows alot of sadness and self hate, very powerfully written with raw emotion,

pixie xx

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