Post-Militaristic Anthem!Submitted by The Pen on Thu, 05/16/2013 - 20:03
Up at 3,
teeth of steam trellis down my forehead,
by a jolt of fiery sweat,
and I clamor in desperation to grasp with fingers,
a dream that revisits me extending them…
pulses of lightning in my chest,
the faucet drums in the washroom bunker,
her voice flitters by
and peels me from the mirror.
I forgot God this year…it’s September now, and
in some nameless, frigid desert is kept
my amputated spirit…
the ceiling is ground,
as uppers wait for downers to bite,
my soul and more.
Rest affords thunders of other countries,
rains easing the red from cold barrels,
let from men with children
whom I’ve bastardized.
Oh, weary freedom,
revoked by professional men,
whose fingernails are free of soil and grit,
whose nerves have never known the bolt,
that brings men to steel hearts,
pants full of shit.
The Doc was dismissive,
as are the pills,
the bones spur below the knee,
flashes of white static blot my sight,
I awaken again to the fear of light.
God bless America,
but not me,
I was crippled in a fight of phantoms,
less free and denied of Arms,
and to muster the speech that opposes the effort of men in black,
is to lose my last vestige, virtue and decree…
stay on soldier, stay on…
with longing for the ache of hands,
only in dreams of pity.