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Nam’s Diatribe |
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Nam’s Diatribe
Today lives on within me
Today, its abusive aura still haunts me
Today, its bitter taste still terrorizes me
Coloring all present events with its knowing
Firmly planted in the past, yet today still growing
Propagating seeds of discontent sowing.
Nam’s Diatribe
Shares dreams of ghastly war to which our young imbibe
To which unfortunate innocents even today ascribe
Forever reliving Nam’s bitter memory inconclusive
Forever questioning young “boys next door” grimly abusive
Delving the depths of praise and denunciation
Boiling over unceasingly since that war’s very creation.
Nam’s Diatribe
Brave men still find it hard to fully describe
Realistically sparking learned discourse,
Knowing you never really know unless you were there,
See the dying from rankled detractors, of course
Giving questioning lectures without remorse
Talking as if they knew well the source…
Nam’s Diatribe
Did hating around too young hearts circumscribe
With cruel war to fragile senses most intensive
Repetition wearing away death’s fears apprehensive
Over time, this grim pastime wars to the young give
Forever Nam’s boys relive its streaming invective
Remembering still, buddies gathered souls collective.
Know this, that wars are just a consuming Diatribe
To which young boys gung-ho naïve did once subscribe
Challenging the best of efforts to describe
Forever boring holes in their souls
Forever distorting “the world” around them now whole
Embedding forever a new set of senses
Memories forever refracted through veteran eye lenses. |
By
Gary Jacobson
Copyright 2004
Listed
September 1, 2010 |
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About
Author...
In 1966-67, Gary Jacobson served with B Co
2nd/7th 1st Air Cavalry in Vietnam as a combat infantryman and is the recipient of the Purple
Heart.
Gary, who resides in Idaho writes stories he
hopes are never forgotten, perhaps compelled by
a Vietnamese legend that says, “All poets are
full of silver threads that rise inside them as
the moon grows large.” So Gary says he
writes because “It is that these silver
threads are words poking at me – I must let them
out. I must! I write for my brothers who cannot
bear to talk of what they’ve seen and to educate
those who haven’t the foggiest idea about the
effect that the horrors of war have on
boys-next-door.”
Visit Gary Jacobson's site for more information
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