CLICK HERE FOR BLOGGER TEMPLATES AND MYSPACE LAYOUTS »

Sunday, November 21, 2021

The Inhalation of Skies

i am Wind!
i am the inhalation of skies
lungs of terrible draft
and willful fury.

i am Tornado!
i spin with hell's
centrifugal anger
and i will sweep far
your most worthy foundation.
i will lift high and dash your infants
with more ferocity
than Herod
stripping away every
cherished
prize.

i am Hurricane!
i will level your cities
break your levees
and forbid your populace
to return
rebuild
re-begin.

i am Wind.
i am deaf to
cantons of mercy.

when you believe you are safe
build monuments to the slain.

        But
I WILL RETURN!

I am Destroyer Wind.

Wednesday, November 10, 2021

As an offering for Veteran's Day I submit the following. I wrote it in 2017, memorializing probably the most senseless, most heedless example of foolish and poor leadership, exemplified by Col. Custer. Had I been there, I'd have shot him myself. The number of men butchered by inept officers are legion. God rest them all.  


Custer's Corporal

Well, no man never asked my starch

When we set off on our westward march

And no winsome lass never asked me why

When I set off for to win, or die.

No Cheyenne lance never pierced my skin
So I tried it once, and then again.
I heeled my spur when the Captain yelled "Charge!"
And I was kilt right there, beside my Sarge.

They laid me down and then scalped my hair
Then they left me dead and cold and bare.
But the handsome Colonel, he died there too
And the history they teach you jus' ain't true.

Well, the stories all brag of Custer's glory
But the unvarnished truth is another story.
It was all Lakota on that day
Until they struck tent and rode away.

So, hear me clear, all'a you bold boys
And quit all'a your brave, naive noise.
Every soldier boy that goes to war
Will get what war has in store.

Enjoy your boyhood kickin' rocks 'n cans
And don't rush off to be a man.
War ain't no lark, and it ain't no game.
And if you do come home you won't be the same.

I took six arrows in my side
And a tomahawk split my skull open wide.
Their squaws pierced with needles, my young ears
In hopes in the afterlife I could not hear.

Boys, you may keep your banners and flags.
From where I sit, there's no cause to brag.
I can no more hear that bugle call.
They kilt us one, and they kilt us all.

Just a few feet above my bones
The army set me up a stone.
Now, don't you think that's petty pay
For the dreadful pain I bore that day?

Wednesday, November 3, 2021

Sorry I've been gone, ya'll. This site got all twisted up on the provider's end. But maybe it's better now. I'll soon find out. I have things I've written that I haven't posted. But maybe things have been cured----or I could not have posted this!

James 🌛