. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

The Plexiglas Flyer

Inspired by truth and fiction, as told in Catch 22 and the real-life events of my friends in the military. In the end, all truth...

Rain fell on the dialysis machine in the
Army tent by the long dry creek bed
where my Army buddies often took their whores,
long lashes no longer batting caught in the gunk of
too much muddy makeup,

The soldiers loving every minute of it
as their girls watched them live
their fantasies on top,
neither never able to look away,
despite the stones and the dust,
where a half-Italian boy was both a
fisherman and born,

The sound of hammers in the rain
replacing the heavy artillery on the bombers
now limping their way home
carefree of the burdens of war,
my Army buddies laugh when someone
drives a nail and tells a joke,
forgetting the way they cried
to the empty caskets of the ones no one will ever see again,
like the whores whose dilapidated brothel was
smothered under the thumb of a brave bombardier
scared enough to never forget what lies below,
insane enough to do what he was told,

Forgetting the dry creek bed
that echoes with the sound of once unbaked rocks
and foreign love that seemed real
replaced with the nagging of a hammer
that has struggled unrelenting to
keep the rain off of the dialysis machine.


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