GOOIE'S POETRY 

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Veteran's Voices

 

 

 HAVE YOU BEEN TO WAR?

HAVE YOU BEEN WOUNDED
HAVE YOU BEEN HIT
HAVE YOU HAD ENEMY
CHANTING YOU MUST DIE

HAVE YOU LAY BLEEDING
FEEL THE BLOOD RUNNING - THE PAIN
SEE YOUR FRIENDS LAY THERE DYING
CALLING OUT YOUR NAME

ZIPPERS SHOT RIGHT OFF YOUR FLIGHT SUIT
MOUTH PIECE GONE NOW FROM YOUR HELMET
HEEL SHOT OFF YOUR SCRAPPED BOOT
FEELING LOST AND SO ALONE

YOU HAVE TRIED TO REACH THE WOUNDED
AND YES YOU TRY TO GET AWAY
PILOTS RIDDLED IN THEIR STEEL SEATS
THEY ARE STRAPPED IN - DOOMED TO DIE

BRAVER MEN I DON'T REMEMBER
THOSE THAT DIE TO SAVE A BROTHER
WE WILL SET THE TABLE FOR YOU
NOVEMBER  10th  RECALL THE NAMES

THOUGH YOUR SMILE WE WILL NOW MISS
A GLASS OF WINE WE'LL REMINISCE

YOUNG MEN AND WOMEN STANDING WATCH
WE THE ELDERS NOW STEP DOWN
HOW WE PRAY THEY SOON RETURN
SIT DOWN CHILD - HAVE YOU BEEN WOUNDED

TO THE PARENTS OF OUR HEROES
THOSE WOUNDED AND THOSE THAT HAVE GONE BEFORE

ERNESTO GOMEZ USMC 65-70
REP. OF VIETNAM 66-69
MOS 6320

Plastic Soldiers

The returning war torn soldier holds his children.
The little ones laugh and play with their toy plastic soldiers.
The mother looks on with angry disapproval.
In her mind all she can see is this different man of War.

The playing with toys continues.
The father becomes sad. Tears appear around his eyes.

When her frayed nerves just cannot take this game of war a moment longer,
She lashes out in a moment of despair at her children. At her marine.

With an enraged look she shakes her fists trembling.
If looks can kill she will murder many.
A mean look distorts a once pretty face,
Then she angrily speaks to her returning warrior.

"Yes," she screams out, "And let's take some plastic, and let's put plastic walls around the returning troops. Then we can get some plastic doctors to make up some plastic questions."

Yes, sure why not make a plastic VA, and let's throw a plastic party, don't forget bring plastic coffins. Yea that's exactly what we'll do."

Then she simply screams out louder in all her frustration.

The wounded soldier puts his head down and cries silently,
His children also sob. But his wife just screams louder and louder

With eyes full of tears he stands up to leave. Now a plastic room engulfs him in a deathly silent grip. So badly he hurts that he cannot find a door. In circles he walks and whispers to himself

He quietly waits. He does not break radio silence.
In his mind's plastic jungle.
Rocking to and fro awaiting friends to return. To rescue him.
To please bring him. Someone please bring me home.

Ernesto Gomez USMC 65-70

Ms. Fonda

 I must move on, I've promised myself many times in the past.
I leave this green garden of beautiful trails of frail small children.
Days that seem to last forever. Nights that last the remainder of life.

 I lash out too often, loudly, disrespecting others, For quiet brothers, who with their blood watered these green gardens. Some volunteered, it was a choice, my only choice. To Vietnam I am lured, as the pretty green eyes of my reflection Carleen.

  I know you disagree. You fight a different battle, you chose to wage with flowers, music, long hair, bellbottoms and your leisurely sandals. Your beads bells and shells are highly explosive. No need to remind you. I still feel your anger. The hate in your eyes still here today.

While I live I still remind you. At my return I took things personally. I just have to make you see. I must persuade you with a vengeance. It is my stubborn youth, and a fierce love of country. Now I ask about your passion, your displeasure at my return.

 Tell me where must I go?  I am blinded in my sanity.  I look for rest. I asked my Lord for mercy. There is no place to rest my head. You ask me to rent you space. A place I need to heal. You are welcome to stay. Your place has secured by fighting men long before you were born.

 And so Ms Fonda, time and wars are similar.

 During hard times, as our Nation is born, there were those who served the Union Jack. Then again during our revolutions, our boys called those war by different names. Then came the Mexican wars and the Indian wars.  All left scars. Our country is wounded and torn.

  Now I read and reread all the lies, truths, and myths about that strip of ground that laid claim to so many lives. Relax I’m not grinding an ax. I write for my own piece of mind. The reason I served is clear to me. As I put these thoughts to paper.

  This nation is about freedom. For all to relate to one another, without fear, else patriotic men and women, respond.  Rest assured there are Divisions of us. This moment they stand a post.  Away from loved ones, protecting that which they find so dear to heart.

Ms. Fonda we call that, simply, Honor.

  I can go on with my writing, but it's all been said, and it's all been done.  Our time is coming close to its end. A page of history will be turned.  People will read what they choose.

 In the end, I ask that we be not forgotten, or misquoted.  A prayer if you will Ms. Fonda, for those that believe in God, Country, and Honor. And are willing to die if need be. I remain Respectfully Submitted

 

Ernesto Gomez USMC 65-70

 


Ernesto Gomez USMC 

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