Shell Shocked.

vietnam_war_by_havankime

This piece is another one about the vietnam war, a very sad case that the world experienced in the 60s i think if you know anything about the goings on in the war , you'll know that millions of north vietnamese, and members of the viet cong were killed, and of course americans and southies too, after the war alot of the americans stayed behind but most returned home and were not welcomed back at all really, and were disgraced by many too. These war veterans also suffered from a great deal of post traumatic stress etc and drove many people crazy. You'll also know that Good mornin vietnam was a very popular radio show during the war with a comedian whom eventually thought the truth should really be getting out there, there's a brilliant movie with Robin Williams as the lead if ya get a chance you shud definately watch it. Anyhow this piece is one mans account of his post traumatic experience type a poem thingy hope you like it, I being a fan of history and the vietnam war idiocy in particular think its quite nice, considering.

Shell Shocked.

I'm shell shocked, hear
bombs goin off and
the sound of the guns,
I see the bodies drop while i'm sleeping;
and wake up screaming,
like the sirens I hear in my head,
You get the word
that your husband is dead, but.
I'm not
Why not?
Why does it feel like
I'm guilty,
of a crime worse than any other
we killed;
Babies
Children
and their Mother; in plural form
hundreds and thousands
even as they were born...

The Newspapers used, metaphors
like a sea of bullets flooded the masses
or the fire that rained,
and asked,
all sorts of questions,
like what will be gained in this senseless massacre.
We didnt know,
nor did we care.
Why the government sent us there,
to do their killing
spree
Fun for you and me, we said
and we drowned the masses
as the fled.

Good Mornin' Vietnam
the radio said,
hundreds more people
this morning are dead...
Our mood was not solemn
nor was it sad;
an emotion inside me,
you might call kinda glad.
I drink my coffee, without powdered egg
and bomb shells still crashing
inside of my head.

And when I came back,
I wasnt a hero, a man stained with blood
looked at with fear, so;
I live by myself
and am all alone,
hearing the sounds of a distant past
and seeing things you could never have known.
still;
no tear rolls down my cheek
and my suffering lingers on
I wonder if these feelings I feel
might possibly ever be gone?

Though I cant help but smile
at this monster that they've made,
one of many monsters
whose price will still be paid
for the slaughter of
Innocence;
the killing that we've done

They'll still
keep making monsters like me
till every
every war in the world is
won.