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A Vietnam Homecoming (Free verse) by scitz
He came home, But his home had gone. He was alone, There was noone. A teenage boy to the foetus of man, A machine in the making from Vietnam. They remind him that he's a national hero, But he finds no meaning, Just irrational believing, Of the trumpets and bells that ring so hollow. MAYDAY ! MAYDAY ! under fire from the press, Of a 'necessary' war according to the congress. His life was for death, and Uncle Sam, To make him a soldier therefore make him a man, By staining red fields of childrens blood, Tell them what is riteous, and what is good. The bullets he dodged seem easy now, But the weapons that hurt are triggered by big mouths. He did what was right in a war so wrong, He wasn't trained how to fight feelings so strong. So he finds a gun, that killed before, but who pulled the trigger? think now, be sure. Excuses are made to help get the stain out, But who pulled the trigger that blew his brain out? A dead hero is no good for a nation, He was welcomed home, But what was the reason for celebration? We expect so much and gave them nothing, Peace falls short to ease their hurting, Inner peace of a soldier cannot be acquired, Now he sleeps forever at peace, Never again has to be tired. Dead hero you can rest in peace now, Death is more than a life you had, There are no such thing as enemies, For we've all made the world bad. So the dead hero sleeps, ears deaf, eyes blind, and he will never awake again, never shake again, his soul scattered, dreams shattered, to go forward we must look behind. (written after watching 'once were soldiers')

Up the ladder: i miss you
Down the ladder: IT'S ONLY A JOB

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Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
 GraphVotes
10  .. 41
.. 20
.. 01
.. 40
.. 30
.. 20
.. 20
.. 20
.. 10
.. 10
.. 30

Arithmetic Mean: 5.730769
Weighted score: 5.7258782
Overall Rank: 1871
Posted: February 3, 2003 5:55 AM PST; Last modified: February 3, 2003 5:55 AM PST
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Comments:
[10] Crakyamuni @ 140.211.112.111 | 3-Feb-03/11:59 AM | Reply
this is on point soldier.
very flow like
[9] brazen @ 68.84.225.163 | 3-Feb-03/10:43 PM | Reply
wow, you should work for the army. you'd make a fine recruiter...
[7] horus8 @ 24.126.113.154 | 7-Feb-03/10:31 AM | Reply
Go back and watch Hamburgher hill. It will help. Also casualties of war.
[n/a] <{Baba^Yaga}> @ 24.126.113.154 | 17-Feb-03/2:25 PM | Reply
lol.
[10] H0LL0WxL1F3 @ 198.81.26.167 | 4-Mar-03/6:45 PM | Reply
Very powerful.
[2] Tintagiles @ 198.164.238.3 | 14-Mar-03/5:54 AM | Reply
Pssst... despite the fact that their last letters are the same, 'Blood' and 'good' don't rhyme.
[n/a] lastobelus @ 213.61.217.3 | 14-Mar-03/6:10 AM | Reply
are you sure you didn't mean "to move forward / we must MOVE our behind" ???
[6] jauser @ 207.220.136.163 | 31-Mar-03/6:01 PM | Reply
beautiful man, i scanned it but still it's beautifu a 6
[n/a] Lord Ganus @ 68.14.26.239 | 10-Apr-03/11:16 PM | Reply
wow a poem inspired by a movie inspired by a war inspired by real events. Replace last line with "BORN..IN THE USA!!! (x10)".
[10] blurryphotograph @ 24.163.40.238 | 16-Apr-03/2:38 PM | Reply
10..because i say so..

What a killer ending..
[n/a] Shardik @ 24.126.113.154 | 16-Apr-03/2:54 PM | Reply
Rachel, are you a blurry photograph?
[5] Poetsettle @ 68.158.170.115 | 18-May-03/10:27 AM | Reply
I remember it well. Thanx for writing!
[4] RealmOfSong @ 64.254.42.191 | 10-Jun-03/7:17 AM | Reply
This just reminds me of how screwed up everything is. DAV -- Disabled American Vets -- for some veterans this thrift store, and others like is, is the only way they can get money to buy clothes and food. They gave their lives and lost their limbs for the country, and the country gave them nothing. They can barely afford to eat everyday, and guys in jersies playing elementary school recess games get a million dollars a year? Hmm...
[n/a] -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. @ 131.111.212.215 > RealmOfSong | 10-Jun-03/9:43 AM | Reply
Yes -- "guys in jersies playing elementary school recess games". Such a poignant observation... I... I don't normally cry, but *choke*... well, I guess it just...
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