PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, coming to those who fought in Vietnam, has always been an insidious bi-product of war for the young warriors, the boys-next-door who fight in war. Traumatic battle stress during the civil war was called Soldier’s Heart, or the vapors, during the Korean War and World War II PTSD, as yet unnamed, was called battle fatigue, or shell shock. namtour/soldiersheart.html Soldiers Heart by Gary Jacobson © September 2007 A soldier’s heart beats within me Call it the vapors, battle fatigue, PTSD... For me its living insanity, you see Still inside I feel the bestial ogres caress Carried from yellowed fields of combat stress Which long ago left my world a motley mess Eternally enlisted in hell’s vile red stream Days of yore still staining nightmare’s dream Roaming wherein I die a thousand times Commit beaucoup carnal crimes. I walk intertwined jungle bowels of hell Show passport stamps to Hades as well Hear dreadful sound of guns Revisit daily war’s blazing suns My discordant mind again and again Lost in verdant underworld yet again Smelling battles decayed cordite mist and vapor Reliving wartime terrors in youthful caper Where sandbox memories rule sun-splashed days Filling sweet-and-sour nights with combat forays. A soldier’s heart sees desperation still In every man I spy, a shadowed assassin’s eye Forever back in a land where still People horribly die Where still Waiting for those aiming to kill... I kill Still sweating in contentious combat drill Rising anxieties besmirching a fragile mind fleeting Marching forever to endure once more the killing. A soldier’s heart feels intimately sore pain Dancing in an addled brain Driving me nigh insane Throbbing in memoriam psychological Pulsating with dinky dau rhythms pathological Palpitating nightmarish flashbacks Drumming on the senses virulent attacks Disruptive uneasiness in worried anxiety Awakening combats somber memory Both good and bad falling on me accusatory. War’s hammer smashing hand-to-hand Brought from that sweet-and-sour land Wreaks today a wretched isolation Giving veterans no protection Forevermore hearing cruel war on senses pounding Thumping crescendos in ears mournfully sounding Load and lock Shell shock Creating violent depression Thrumming strings of hyper-vigilant obsession. A soldier’s heart By what hes seen and done torn apart Wears a badge of forevermore to impart Forgetting not Frustrating memories bricky hot Won with egregious trauma’s death bought Combatant nerves to hell shot Always feeling dirty with an ageless dirt Beaten unmercifully with Satan’s wicked quirt To the pits of the soul painfully hurt. Deep in a soldier’s heart Hide deep dark secrets behind a fortified rampart Where from time to time Veterans take out memories sublime When theyre all alone To remind them of war grown weary to the bone Recalling lost humanity The boy lost along with their sanity Tied with self-loathing devoid of acceptance Grown tired beyond physical endurance. A soldier’s heart Beats in old warriors skeptical of authority Who answer freedoms call with nobility By empyrean angels sent To save a world by oppressors rent Enticed by the political mobs lie Sounded by those caring not for boys who die Bringing to veterans a painful sigh Who well up in the dead of night to cry. Will in vain be my warrior legacy? Will we not learn lessons from history? Taught in this most foul debacle called war By political fat-cats keeping score Ever skewering those whove seen more Than they can bear to see Whove done much more Than they can in good conscience do Whove lost much more Than they can afford to lose… A soldier’s heart lost in wars spin-the-bottle Still hides much deep pain in a bottle Fighting anew anxieties darkning thought Eschewing cruel scars cruel battle wrought Lost the tender touch Riding steel horses into battle’s grinding crunch Relishing lives of anguished sorrow Needing balm of Gilead to borrow Seeking understanding healing Love’s reconnecting. A soldier’s heart makes frail life insane Dredging up old memories profane Inhaled through clenched teeth Hearing bullets final crack bequeath. The Master of Hell must pay the cost For fresh innocence lost For the foul carnage of the brotherhood For boys-next-door lost in rotting mud and blood For war veterans nightly playing hosts To brother combatant ghosts. My memorial wreath comes wrapped in a flag Zipped in a bag… Sent home Wretched tokens forever to atone Wearing the fragrance of death like cologne Hearing a battalion of warriors beleaguered cry Wondering still why they had to die... Yet not I … not I Yet still, though I know not why I too, rivers of tears cry...
Posted on: Mon, 12 Jan 2015 07:25:24 +0000
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