~The Dragon Flies Lair III~

I will be away from the boards for a day or so, I have an obligation I must observe, and reflect upon. I will return when I have taken the time to fulfill a personal duty. Tomorrow is Veterans Day, and as in every year since I returned from Nam, I take the day off, I skip work if that is needed (all too often it is), and I go someplace alone and remember. I relive the times and the terrors, recalling the people who crossed my life in those days, friend and enemies alike. How do you forget the buddy you held, lied to and made laugh, even as his life drained out across you in the bottom of a shell holed boat? Or the ones you help put in those damn bags, headed home for the last time. A lot of Vets will recall that first enemy you killed up close, and you remember a thousand things later you didn’t realize you had even seen in those terrible moments. The shock and pain as your bullets sawed him apart, the realization of his mortality, even as you saw the light of life in those eyes fade into emptiness, a bit of which you carry inside yourself after that. A thousand things will cross my mind, and a million feelings will all run riot in my heart, and across the scars in my soul. I will weep without restraint, and still it will not ease the pain, though I always wish it could. I will be there again, smelling the rot of the vegetation, the stink of my own sweat and fear, and hear the moments echoing inside my head. It will leave me shaken, and angry and sad beyond understanding, it will be just like always. Why, because in a way, no Vet ever really comes all the way home. Part of us will forever be lost in those moments, and we hear its call across time and space forever more. Those who were not there will not, can not, understand the full weight of that statement, and I am glad of that, for it means you were spared that. It also means I was there, and I will understand what my brothers (and sisters) of the Brotherhood of the Gun feel, oh so very well. Tomorrow we should honor the living Vets, but it will be instead just another Holiday for office workers and such, lucky enough to get it off. Many Vets will be working, and many will quietly remember, as will I. If there is a Vet in your office, thank them, it something they are likely never to have heard before! If your an employer, let them take this day off, it has very deep meanings for them, I assure you! If your a spouse, give them some time alone, to deal with the private pain and pride that is uniquely theirs, and later thank them, it will touch them deeper than my words can convey. I offer my understanding to my brothers, I know what you feel and I honor you as my heroes, be you from Korea, Nam, and up to today. In service, retired, or just discharged, you were there, and I for one hold your service dear. My thanks, to all Vets. We will never forget!

Roadhouse Blues

He sat on an otherwise empty stage, a solo star,
in a tarpaper sided roadside bar closed for the night,
and picked the worn nylon strings of his old guitar,
venting his silent rage in each note with all his might.

Soulful, reaching, dragging memories out of the very air,
as he played from his heart alone, and fought the demons of his mind.
Bittersweet the music and the moods it evoked in him there,
and set the night alive, to dreams he thought he’d left behind.

His audience was made up of Father Time and the Fates doing downtime,
and the music of that soul held a power that flowed out among the stars.
God and all the Angles had the tables on the left, tapping their foot to mark the time.
and the music left a better place for the passing of its roiling current in that empty bar.

The last haunting note was hanging in the quiet air of dawn for so long,
and the tired worn player sat his guitar down and stood listening to the night.
He thought he heard clapping, and he swore he heard the echoes of his song,
and as he slowly walked from that ancient stage, he wore a unseen halo’d light.

Another for you Lady Feather

What The Cowboy Saw

The old cowboy saddled up and headed into town,
to see what life was like where the clock never did run down.
Glaring light and overpriced beer, and folks who didn’t seem to care,
and others who weren’t exactly all there, made the place seem a Nutter’s fair.

Fast food so bad coyotes would let it be, and start gnaw’n on a tree,
and traffic flowing like a raging river, full of fools as their victims flee.
Noise enough to shatter stone and something called music that soured the ear,
it left one deef and a bit confused, and just this side of mindless fear.

Women dressing like hookers on parade, suing for looking at the goods,
men who’d got’n touch with their feminine side, should’ve been wearing hoods!
Youngster in pants falling down, and caps on wrong to spite their faces,
made the old cowboy wonder mighty about the future of all races.

Word were everywhere and most were obscene as they could be,
it made one wonder if common sense and intelligence did flee!
Dog crap on sidewalks and folks in the gutter and nobody care’n,
if this was the good life, thanks for not share’n!

He saddled back up and headed for friendlier places,
where beer was cost less, and the people had familiar faces.
Never again to Gomorra to go, enough is enough and then some you know,
slow down and live, see the world going by, enjoy the short life, say whoa!

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