American Youth in Asia–a song by Larry Rogers

American youth in Asia
I hear your jungle boots
Moving in the elephant grass
And the bamboo shoots
What a chilling mercy killing
Yours is gonna be
American youth in Asia
A generation put to sleep

Ask the old men on the draft boards
Why their sons aren’t here too
And tell Mama instead of piano
Wish I’d studied Kung Fu
What a chilling mercy killing
This is gonna be
American youth in Asia
A generation put to sleep

They took the stripes off a tiger and put ‘em on me
And the other boys of Company “B”
Don’t know when he plans to attack
But there’s a big cat scratching at my back
What a chilling mercy killing
Mine is gonna be
American youth in Asia
A generation put to sleep

Another plane lands at Travis
So many lost souls inside
While on the rolling hills of Arlington
Tombstones multiply
What a chilling mercy killing
This is gonna be
American youth in Asia
A generation put to sleep

___________

I was raised in a potting shed trailer in the piney woods of west central Arkansas–a sanctuary for moonshiners, marijuana growers, and merry (and not-so-merry) pranksters. I’m a poet and singer/songwriter. In 2017, Golden Antelope Press published a collection of my poems titled, “Live Free or Croak.” I was drafted and served with the First Air Cav in Vietnam in ’67 and ’68.

https://larrysrogers.com/music.html

Lynne Savitt

FOR MY 74TH BIRTHDAY & TWO OF MY HUSBANDS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

current husband

there are women so beautiful
staring at them makes one
dizzy as half dozen mimosas at
sunday morning seaside resort

i am not one of them

there are men so magnetic
they mesmerize one pulling
you into their lustful arms
like star studded wyoming skies

you are not one of them

a year ago when i got my cancer
diagnosis you said nothing not
one “sorry” or “i love you” or
“don’t worry” or “i’ll be there”

i hate myself when i see me through yr eyes

last ex husband

there are women who struggle
with scars & missing pink flesh
aging & aching with rallied grace
day after week after painful month

i am one of them

there are men who know how
to love stumps & bones bald
frail female shadows black
with disease & golden hope

you are one of them

i feel loved when i see me through yr eyes

irony current husband does caregiving
ex husband needs care giving but
he tells me happy birthday a week early
so he won’t forget & wishes me many
more times than not words ARE enough

Poetry of Mike James

 

 

How Many Angels Can Dance on the Point of a Needle?

 

There was one needle all angels danced on
No measurements were taken
None were asked for
There was room for all the angels and twice as more
And still their laughter sounded like singing
And their sighs sounded like singing
Though none sang a lullaby
Not one angel slept or remembered sleep
If you asked what sleep was like they would say the white moon