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All morning long, rockets shot by I stood by sandbags, opened-eyed!
At night, at night—the same I, and my head dodging such things.
Little I thought, I’d die that morning, For here I am, to write the story.
For out of the mysterious, Vietnam, Came a blood-red sky for everyone.
Rockets whistled in the bloody sky, They have tails like hawks, as they fly!
But the worst of all …is when they land A ghostly fate, in deadly sand�
#648 [5/12/2005]
Part Seven
Vietnam: The Ballad of Lustful Luke
Ugh! What a shame� Let me whisper Luke’s lustful game:
He’d make love several
Times a day�
As I swept the dusty steps, Polished my dirty boots
And cleaned my oily gun�BR>He’d be screwing everyone!!
And that is how we got to know Each others name (that is so).
And he’d say: “You want to play��/P>
And I’d answer: “Got things to do, not today Lue!�/P>
Yes, even when in the mist
Of combat�/P>
He’d dip-down into His little hut and screw Screw his many sluts�
“O flee, flee…�I told him many
Times�BR>“Before disease
Warped his mind.
But he never zippered-up
Those olive-green pants, And thus, his spinal-cord
Collapsed.
Unable to stand: he was Flown to Tokyo, Japan.
Part Eight
Vietnam: The Barbwire
“Their all messed up in the barbwire�BR>(he said); shoot them in the head�/P>
let’s fire!�BR>Oh, what a time to die.
They never made a moan. Caught in the barbwire fence:
Wet, with sweat to the bone!
Now here we stand, awaiting command
And the VC hasn’t a chance. And here we swear, smoke and
Crack dirty jokes�BR>As daylight grows awfully dim.
And here we play cards and laugh While the cursed foe wiggles back,
Back through the barbwire fence; As we wait for command, and wait
And wait…until they’re gone.
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