HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY

Written by Mark M.

The Unwritten Poem, By the Forgotten Man

Remember the night we first met
and I kept staring
you thought I liked your girlfriend
instead of you
but I didn’t

remember our first date
the picnic in the park
you pushed me in the pond
and laughed while I almost drowned
but I didn’t

remember the first time we made love
it just happened by itself
you were afraid
and thought I was using you
but I didn’t

remember that summer night
we held each other and cried
because we were so happy
and you thought we were being silly
but I didn’t

remember that big fight
and the things we said we didn’t mean
I drove away cursing
and you thought we’d break up
but I didn’t

remember our wedding day
and the joy we shared
we held one another all night
and kissed for hours
you said I fell asleep first
but I didn’t

remember when I answered the call
how brave you were
we talked about our plans
the children we would have
and the life we would live
when I came home from Vietnam
but I didn’t

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Donkey Balls
Donkey Balls

Great poem Mark, we should post it every year. I hate the MIC.

Ghost

I embraced the idea when the first lucrative Union contracts were offered to those of us with “special clearances” and understanding of the equipment uses and limitations. (How do you really keep secrets? You make keeping secrets a valuable “skill.” Kind of like “lying” for the purpose of protecting those who control the country. The one you swore your life to serve.

So, that’s my long way of saying, in a nutshell, the Military learned exactly what Eve learned at that tree. Sacred Honor traded for high level cabinet positions or negotiating God’s Authority with another serpent at another tree another time.

I learned to separate my loathing for the bureaucratic Boyaristic network of leeches composing the MIC from my love of the spirit of love of country that I’ve seen inspired by some real acts of patriotism and duty. And those of many of you reading here today. Sincerely, I salute you from the bottom of my farmgirl heartlander’s heart.

And, if any of you “musemeisters” out there sense the quickening in those harmonics called brain activity, I find it interesting to draw a timeline between the onset of our nation’s involvement in WWII (December 6, 1941) to the use of the first Atomic Weapons (August 6 and 9, 1945) and do the math.

We are on the precipice of 80 years (Four Churnings and Turnings) from the event that catapulted our beloved Frontier Nation into becoming the Empire of the Military Industrial Complex. The MIC, wrapping itself in flag material without substance, polluted too many McCainesque soldiers who should have faded away but refused to do so.

The reason old soldiers must fade away is that either they saw things which made them realize the banality of evil is killing someone you do not know over someone’s grievance you do not understand. And, when they realize those willing to kill the nation’s blood treasure, while questing for more money to develop even more destructive weapons, are the one’s in control, they either go rogue or go full bugout. I just discovered my Mormon stores of nonfat dry milk are only “good” for 20 years, meaning a couple cases are coming close to ten years left. Since my goats are perfectly capable of being milked if I were willing to be mean and lock them in stocks, I will also toss in a 4 lb can of dry milk with the rice and beans at the Elephant Rocks State Park or the Gateway Arch. Or, anywhere in between.

The MIC believes the only god any one needs is the love of money and all of its dark dank roots that poison all of mankind.

The MIC is what makes the eagle cry. But, eagles are fierce warriors.

If you ever saw Toby Keith live and in person in his old hometown of Oklahoma, where he lives even now, I bet… you know what a real “big dog” looks like in a cowboy hat and cowboy boots. Oh, and us gals look okay in those too. Just sayin’

Everyone thinks about the big groups of Veterans retired to coastal communities or near big military bases, where they get those good “union” jobs associated with the high dollar contracts. But do you ever think about how many farmboys and farmgirls from flyover country join the service because they genuinely wanted to serve their country? There are more than a few of us. I’ve been counting them and taking names.

I met a really nice woman who was bartering for some items in silver in an Amish village nearby. She’s not Amish, but she is now my friend and I have her cell phone number and she mine. We will soon exchange friendship bread starter. That’s hillbilly networking. That’s communication lines.

Donkey Balls
Donkey Balls

M G,

Toby Keith is my favorite country singer. Saw him at Jiffy Lube Live. Great concert.

Ghost

For a second I thought you meant that you saw him at Jiffy Lube. Seriously, one of my old AF pals, Al Perusse (RIP, Big Al), had a son who worked at Toby’s First “I Love This Bar and Grill” in Norman, OK. Alex, Jr. said Toby would come in the kitchen and make his own burger or at least serve himself a bowl of chili. (Both Big Al and young Alex were known to exaggerate). But, really, until he got real famous, you could have seen him at Jiffy Lube around Moore and Norman from time to time.

I saw Carrie Underwood at Target one day. She grinned at me because I was in a flight suit. I put my finger to my lips to “shush” her because we weren’t supposed to go shopping in our jet jammies back then. It had to be funny if it was her that I was shushing HER in public.

Nick swears it wasn’t her, but I really think it was her just a few years after Jesus Take the Wheel hit the charts.

If you think Carrie was a drop in the Idle Idol bucket… she has POWERFUL voice and talent, too. A lot of that out on the prairie in flyover.

Ghost

He comes across as a real person, untainted by all the fame. Most of the Okies do. Not all. There’s that Blake guy.

mark
mark

Thanks Donkey, I didn’t know Admin was going to put it up.

It was published in the 70’s. I wrote it when I was 22.

Ghost

Ah, a marvelous thing to have stumbled upon for you as well as the rest of us! Thanks for the hat tip and the hat trick. I am not sure what that means but I bet that Uncanny Uncola could unscramble that as well as any other Cat in the Mad Hatter could do.

Seriously, Mark. Amazing talents gifted to so many TBPeople. I salute the Big Dog himself for gathering this strange band of bards and poets. A former teacher of mine once shared with me his rough ideas of a novel he planned to write titled “The Saints and the Poets” about how the only people who are capable of realizing how very important every single moment can be when opportunity or crisis arise are the “Saints” and the “Poets” but for some reason they cannot always see one another but when they do, magic happens. [This is a teacher whose children I babysat, EC, so get your mind out of the gutter. The teacher was a mentor not a pervert.]

He told me later in life that when he’d read Dead Poets’ Society, he’d discarded the idea.

I’m not sure what led to the writing of the screenplay in 1989, GASP… Forty Years Ago????… but, it really was sort of the same idea as Terry had as a young high school English teacher and counselor to a young woman who’d had to travel to Texas for terrible reasons. So, it is a really profound piece of literature I saw long before it made Robyn Williams think he was not funny when he was profoundly funny in that role. This is what TBP’s other Marc knows about comedy: it it tragic in the mirror.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/67238.Dead_Poets_Society

KeyserSusie
KeyserSusie

“”Not altogether a fool,” said G., “but then he is a poet, which I take to only one remove away from a fool.””

From The Purloined Letter by Edgar Allen Poe

Ghost

I tossed together a Medley of Medleys and submitted it… in case it slips by, here’s this one.

TC
TC

Damn nice work, Mark. Got me in the feels.

Sending American boys and girls anywhere outside of 50 miles from America’s coast should require a declaration of war by a majority in Congress, and the war vote tallied by counting the members who commit seppuku on the steps.

mark
mark

TC,

That’s the trouble with the poem…it fits countless heartbroken real people.

Texas Patriot
Texas Patriot

Thanks Mark and Admin. Great poem. Unfortunately, those of us of a certain age knew many who fit that verbiage all too well. May they rest in peace. God bless them and those who remember their sacrifice.

mark
mark

Texas Patriot,

Yea, buddy. If I wasn’t dug in deep in NC I’d be back in Texas.

Married a Texan, Civil War 2 has come and gone (I was raised in NJ) the South has won round two.

Mygirl...maybe

a great gotcha of a poem…so true and so sad

Mygirl...maybe
nkit
nkit

Thanks for writing and sharing that, Mark. Excellent!

BB
BB

I have been reading the real history of how and why the government started a war in Vietnam. It is disgusting and heartbreaking to know all those young men were just used . It would take to long to go into great detail but it’s the same shit.The Bankers , the greed ,the politicians wanting to make the world in their image without giving a damn about how the war would effect other people. My Father did his duty but in a way I’m glad he never learned the truth about the war .

mark
mark

BB,

I have despised and hated the Banksters since I carefully investigated real history and learned the truth why all wars are Banker’s wars.

This is pretty good if you have not already found it. If every American knew the truth we could hang the Bankers and return the Republic to ourselves…they know that…hence their control of the media, the schools, and the cesspool called Hollywood.

ALL WARS ARE BANKERS WARS

http://www.whatreallyhappened.com/WRHARTICLES/allwarsarebankerswars.pdf

Unreconstructed
Unreconstructed

“Let us control the money of a nation, and we care not who makes its laws” Amschel Rothschild.

Ghost

I’ve added a #10 can of LDS nonfat dehydrated milk (approximately 4 lbs) to the rice and beans. Just sayin’

mark
mark

Thanks nkit,

I was influenced by O. Henry as a boy and always loved the twist in the last line.

nkit
nkit

WSP… a truly remarkable man…

KeyserSusie
KeyserSusie

Thank you Mark and Admin for sharing.

Seeking Solace

Grief and broken trust
When all hope is but dust

He was wild in his sorrow
And Divined tomorrow

Seeking solace and forgiveness
The lonely heart of Love’s business

His CIB and Airborne pins are tarnished upon the Operation Iraqi Freedom hat he wore but not his memory. That hat he wore with pride that shielded his eyes but not his memories.

Peace be with you all.

Blake McK Went Away

Whiskey River coldly served
From the glass once reserved
For the presence now departed
Grieving has only started

Measure and pour as daily bread
Quenching the thirst the lonely dread
Stab it, kill it with a gun or knife
All bad memories of his life

He filled our glass and our heart
He lit up the room when it was dark
Recall the shining of the day
Before Blake McK went away

He wore his hat with pride
He wore his hat when he cried
At the passing of good men and soldiers
Who signed up for duties bolder

Than those who stayed home
He now no longer suffers alone
Josie Wales says dying is easy
For warriors dead, will at peace be

It is living that is difficult for those who remain
To deal with this life of sorrow and pain
Gather up your psalms and prayers
Say them gently, because Blake, we care

8 Feb, 2018
Memorial for my son who took his life.

mark
mark

There are no words to write.

Anonymous
Anonymous

Ah…damn. The hurt was too strong, my deepest condolences….

Mygirl...maybe

Words fail me…..God bless you and your family…Mr. KeyserSusie

Ghost

comment image

Thank you. Semper Fi from more than one who did not come home. My father helped carry seven urns on board the ship that sailed to bring them home. Those urns boarded the ship first, according to many POWs coming home with my own father that long ago day.

Do you realize I did some math today and discovered my father was shot down during the attack on Dutch Harbor, Alaska. June 2, 1942 and now I am thinking I need to review some history to find out about that poor guy who got thrown into a hole in the ground for stealing sugar the Red Cross had sent for the prisoners… It really sucked to be a POW, I think.

But, Dad got to come home and hardly ever left The Missouri Territory, except to come visit me in Oklahoma a couple of times.

Seventy-seven years ago come next Sunday, Preacher Man… isn’t there something special about eleven sevens to those number crunchers Jesus chased out of His House? Weren’t those the same “betting men” who gambled for our Lord’s Robe while someone pierced his side to cleanse the entire world? Isn’t it always tempting to bet on coincidence?

Think about it, Mark M. After Pearl Harbor, my father enlisted in the US Navy and was stationed at Dutch Harbor, AK in time to be a crew chief for PBYs June 2, 1942, when the Japanese began the assault on the Alaskan Islands. A pilot, desperate for a rear gunner, asked my father if he knew how to shoot a gun and my father saluted sharply, said “Yes, sir!” to legitimate authority in life-or-death crisis and within the hour would be in a three man liferaft, taking his turn in the water until losing feeling in his legs. When they buried one at sea, all three could huddle in the raft until picked up by a Japanese Battleship some ten to twelve hours later.

Seventy-Seven is indeed almost 80 years, isn’t it? Because after Dutch Harbor, things began to really start heating up in Europe as well, did they not? After all, the same day Pearl Harbor was attacked, Churchhill was said to have said something along the lines of “Well, Thank Goodness… book me passage to Washington as soon as possible and telegraph Franklin that I’m coming to discuss our war.” That is some really serious reading into by me but I am betting the same man who said History would forgive the Allies for what they did, especially the version he intended to write. If you don’t know it, Churchill did indeed write the Definitive History of World War II, which I’ve not read, not entirely.

comment image

mark
mark

MG,

Your Father’s amazing personal experiences, trials, traumas, hopelessness, grit and survival in the hands of some of the cruelest captors of modern times can never be really understood except by the microscopic number of people who have had similar living nightmares and lived to tell the tale. It boggles my mind to think of the dark days and pitch black starving nights he endured.

There is an advantage of living through brutality that tempers us as pure steel is refined…but there is a cost from this type of tempering…from the skimming off our humanity’s dross that never leaves…until as promised…one day every tear will be wiped away.

You honor and remember and cherish your Father’s trials, traumas, hopelessness, grit and survival…and that is in itself its own righteous reward.

Ghost

God has lavished me with abundant gifts because I have knelt down and cried holy.

My Showers of Blessing runneth over a long time ago.

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This is the Castor River at Marquand after the last big rain. It runneth over, too.

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Overthecliff
Overthecliff

Thanks for that poem,Mark. Marshall Guyer and Jack Swender USMC forever young.

mark
mark

Overthecliff,

That poem made a lot of people uncomfortable in 1972…no one more then me when I wrote it. Although I was alive with all my limbs…and never married the girl…it was auto biographical.

Semper Fi to Marshall Guyer and Jack Swender and you.

Norm
Norm

Happy USSA False Flag War day!

niebo
niebo

Mark, when you posted that yesterday, I was floored. Responded “Wow”. Didn’t know what else to say. Read it to my wife a while later. Did not know it was coming until it hit, but I wept while I read the last stanza.

Studied Humanities in college, had plans to be a teacher. Have read thousands and studied/explicated hundreds more, but only one other I can think of even comes close to being as powerful and heartbreaking. Thank you

mark
mark

Thanks niebo that means a great deal to me.

PlatoPlubius

Mark,

Thank you for sharing something so personal. I always enjoy what you share here on TBP.

Memorial day, a time to remember,
to never forget,
a time to take pause, a silent homage to those who gave everything, to those who returned, changed forever..

a time to acknowledge the sacrifice, the service but also the Truth in this Empire of lies…may the Truth comfort us and feul our desire for justice and the spreading of awareness and understanding of how our brothers and sisters are used as expendable cogs in this MIC “capital machine”…

Truth immemorial

Prayers and blessings to anyone personally affected by WAR!
Whether it be the soldier, the soldier’s wife or husband, someone’s daughter or son, best friend or complete stranger, whether they are a “citizen ” or innocent bystander, whether their considered an enemy combatant or collateral damage…My thoughts and prayers go out to you…

Although at times we feel completely alone remember I offer this,

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

You are NEVER alone!

mark
mark

Plato,

You are more than welcome ole friend…writing has always been a form of therapy for me…saved me a fortune in head shrinker bills.

It’s hard to wrap my mind around the pure, unadulterated evil of those responsible for all the false flags, lies, plots, schemes, coups, and phony wars over greed and power that has destroyed the lives of so many innocent average people.

It’s been a painful journey to come to grips with the truth. I take great solace in knowing their time of judgement will one day come.

What ever is coming to the disunited states is on its way…and once again I may find myself (we all may find ourselves) directly in war (not watching it on TV)…so the close to your comment is most welcome and appropiate!

Ghost

Thanking God for TBP and the amazing principled folks hanging around with the rest of us riffraff.

Anonymous
Anonymous

God is great.
Beer is good, and
People are crazy.
Sent with good intentions, months back, during a challenging time,
was interpreted then as not very helpful. Maybe at the time depressing,
and of little help.
You can see now, the message was one of care & concern, with a simple ditty about
what is important. Faith, simple pleasures, good tunes, and good friends.

Hank
Hank
Whiskey Sierra 0331
Whiskey Sierra 0331

You have a talent, well said my friend.

mark
mark

From one 0331 to another…thanks.

Always remember when TSHTF…GUNS UP!

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