He broke a dollar, mix of change

One early Monday morn’

Donned his hat and headed out

To visit friends, alone

On foliage guarded pathways

Decorated, sun-kissed miles

He reminisced their days of old

How innocent their smiles

Solemnly, he neared them

In silence, they reposed

Breezes of their shadows

Bristled by as his hair rose

A penny here, a penny there

Each grave he passed, respects

Six cents left, he recollects

Their vow, sworn, to protect

His change began to dwindle

As thoughts chilled through his bones

Drawing nearer to the grave

That bore his best friend’s stone

Tears filled his eyes, saluting,

With metallic-scented hand

Honoring the man he’d known

From bootcamp to his end

It wasn’t much, he pondered

Watching rays bounce off the token

But in the forty-one cents left

Lay all his words, unspoken

*****

Tokens left at gravestones, dating back to the Roman Empire, are a means of showing respect. This piece today, “Loose Change”, is my humble attempt to show my respect to all those who’ve served our country with the ultimate sacrifice of their lives. In honor of you and with prayers for the grieving loved ones that you’ve left behind.

The tour began in the South of Italy.

He fought to the north, and then

by way of England, Sgt. Edward T. Weleski

charged Omaha Beach as

the Rangers scaled the cliffs.

Somewhere in France

a grenade’s shrapnel sent him

to the hospital, but only till

the Reich broke the line

and the wounded went to the front

to push back the Bulge

if they could hold a gun and stand,

which he did, until frostbite

wrecked his feet and sent him home.

He would have done it again.

War is always.

Necessary, sometimes.

But we must never forget what it brings.

It does not bring clarity.

It does not bring peace.

It brings my grandfather back to France.

Unconscious on his deathbed,

that shrapnel still in his body

a half century later,

assembled grandchildren hear

Sgt. Edward T. Weleski

anxiously report to his commander

even as his wife holds his fading hand.

During the second Great War,

He was a medic;

Offsite, never truly in battle.

Except,

The rescue mission.

He was on the rescue chopper...

The one that was shot down.

His remains were never found.

His brothers, came back heros.

The sun comes up,

If I’ve gone to sleep,

Then I wake up in panic,

Where the fuck am I,

Who am I,

Where’s my exits,

Where’s my weapon,

Everyday I ponder a simpler life,

Less full of mental issues and strife,

I wonder what could’ve been,

The relationships and women leaving,

The drug use and alcohol abuse wreaking,

Numb is all I know,

In my destroyed and ruined relationships it shows,

But I don’t ponder too long,

No one could’ve known that living suffering went this low,

But I never took the largest blow,

They say death comes in threes and I’m inclined to agree,

The names forever branded and always will be,

Die not in vain but forever with me,

Live I will for you and for me.

Like daises in a field

we fall

we fall like promises that slip off a necklace

like dogs that lie cold in the mud

the mud that’s like dark rain

it mixes with our tears and those of the sky

and it beautifies our blue eyes when we lay in it

makes our fallen blood take on a darker hue

when we fall

our moaning in fever heating up the beds

our arms and legs and torsos clawed

by mans hatred

personified

into the bang of a gun

some of us lack legs

and eyes

and arms

and the ability to stand and not cry

but our masters lack hearts

they send us to become some gruesome painting of their victory

as if our blood

can truly write the word “conquered” on the daisies

when we collapse onto them

when we fall.

(Memorial Day challenge)

His blood lent life to the fallow sand

Leaving death white, his limp, cold hand

Fingers grew stiff in my frantic grip

As breath gave his body the final slip

There we lay shattered on the silent earth

Where had this monster been brought to birth?

His body broken, never to heal

My soul shattered...never again to feel.

the colors of the earth,

the grass beneath my feet,

a blossom's sudden birth

where flesh and flower meet.

a land where i can live

without a thought or worry

that what i have to give

will never try to hurt me.

for across the mighty seas

exists a different place

that does not have our trees

nor a kind or happy face.

men shed blood for us,

we who they do not know,

so that in god we may trust

and democracy we may sow.

so today, tomorrow, and always,

pour your heart out and sing.

because we are safe the rest of our days.

let freedom ring.

"you're fighting for freedom!" they say

so why is it

that they had to censor themselves

that they could kill for others

but couldn't live their truth?

how is murder honorable,

how is bloodshed glorious

but kissing the one you love

is disgraceful?

bash them over the head

with the butt of your gun or the bible

but don't caress your lover's cheek

because it hurts our image

be proud of your suffering

but never of your joy

take solace in the comfort of other men,

but not in that way.

keep quiet or the finger of your fellows

might "accidentally" slip on the triggers

of their guns

live in fear not because of a foreign threat,

but because being who you are is a crime

the only thing they died for

is freedom to oppress

i remember

#lgbt #lgbtq #gay #lesbian #bisexual #memorialday #military #sacrifice #socialjustice

Sweat, tears, blood, fear.

Gunshot wound to the stomach, terror in your eyes. You know the end is near.

Red runs through your shirt and pools in the dust. Your fumbling hand has done nothing to stop the bleeding. A man with many blurry faces is shouting but you cannot hear,

your dying senses can only see the fear in is eyes. His nightmare is to become you.

"Mama, come hold me." A cry for comfort, love and peace. You want to be taken somewhere safe, far away from here. Away from the battlefields and bombs and killing.

Two years pass, and then a few more.

Your family wonders what happened to you in the war. MIA was all the note said. Nobody knows if you are dead. At night, your little daughters say a prayer, they really wish that Daddy was here. The young wife you left behind is broken, her heart shattered into pieces and locked into a memory chest, never to be reopened.

So I stand here today, at the grave of the unknown soldier, to thank you for the bloody battle you fought so well and to wish you peace in heaven after a hellish death.

And although your loved ones are now dead, I still wish them the best. I hope they had a happy life and know that you didn't want to leave them behind.

My sacrifice can never compare to yours.

I salute you, unknown soldier.

To my brothers and sisters in arms

That have fallen in service.

Sleep well my brothers and sisters in arms

Thank you for your service

And Thank you for your sacrifice.

You will not be forgotten.

Semper Fi

Independent Duty Corpsman

Recon sniper platoon

3rd Force Recon

Okinawa Japan.

88 to 95