The Airport
Crumpled green uniform
Ribbons edged with dirt
Scuffed shoes, stubbled face
Eyes rimmed red with fatigue
I emerge from the bird's womb
The returning warrior
The family pounces
Hugs, tears
Backslaps, handshakes
Pride overflows
Soldier son, hero brother
I stand tall in their eyes
They think me whole
Grateful I am unscraped by war's steel
I wince at their sympathy
All wounds do not pierce the skin
Control, Control!
I must play my role with precision
My pain will be theirs
Soon enough
To My Younger Brother
You were wide-eyed at the manhood
Pinned above my pocket
I saw the pride
And the hunger
I felt my pulse in your veins
Must I break your fragile innocence
With my sledge hammer guilt?
How can I endure your why
Slashing like a razor to my wrists?
Yet you must know
Or learn as I have
War does not make men
It destroys them
To My Father
Dad, Dad
You make me mad sometimes
With your right-wing lines
And undisguised compromise with the lies you live
And the effort you give
To remain unchanged
We have pride in each other
Yet can't seem to smother
The sparks of political rage
That fire the tinder of age
And blaze into Irish bile
That smoulders to two sheepish smiles
Huddled over mugs of beer
To My Lover
I lie awake
Rigid, like a body stiffened by death
Staring
You knuckle your eyes and yawn
Are you all right?
Woman, do not ask me for my nightmares
To tender away
They slither from a black hole in my conscience
You cannot fill the hole with love
It is bottomless
I fumble for my mask
It is nothing
Sleep
Street Meeting
He confronts me
Smiling shyly, head down
Embarrassed at the charade
Brother
I see by your jacket that you was in 'Nam
I was there too
Shows me the scar to prove it
How 'bout a quarter for a fellow vet
to get some wine?
He shuffles
Niggaring
Wincing at the expected blows of righteousness
I give him a dollar and say nothing
You see
We both have come
To the same
Conclusion
On Being a Veteran
How do I not be a veteran?
My identity defined by my life's shame?
Unremittingly blamed
By myself
For being the sum of my experience
Ignorant of events
Until survival made knowledge
Irrelevant
I feel like a brittle leaf
Pinned on a twig by the wind
Rustling helplessly to be freed
Before I crumble in the breeze
It is a tender spot
Healed and cushioned by time
'Til it becomes a mere plot
In some dope-induced war story
But it smarts at the touch
Of rough-skinned rhetoric
And it aches a warning
Of impending storms
I am a prophet by pain
I have the wisdom of the afflicted
Solitary Dancing
I sometimes dance alone
Away from others' eyes
To free my minds constraints
That limit what I try
An energetic Cossack
A peering timid fawn
My repertoire is endless
So long's the blinds are drawn
My inhibitions fade
Like safe chameleons' hues
Returning with the knock
Of friends I fear to lose
I Was a Hero Once
I was a hero once
Or so it seemed
My life was gripped in the vise of commitment
And Truth was my name
It was all so long ago
The tilted windmills of my youth
Still smugly sit atop the hill
My wide-eyed innocence lies smashed upon the rocks below
You cannot change the world
If you cannot change yourself
So now I chase the American Dream
I never wanted
Marinating in suburban mediocrity
Struggling to keep up with the Joneses
A task to which the Mahoneys
Are never quite equal
My life defined
By the endless repetition of mindless tasks
Mow the lawn
Wash the car
Fix the sink
Tend the garden
I still have my ideals
I tell myself
Lamely
When, on occasion, I ponder who I am
But principles without actions
Are like the kiss of a whore
Or the handshake of a politician
I can't think of these things now
The weight may crush me
Besides
My nap awaits
But I will awake, my friend
I will awake
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