Poetry: Iraq & Afghanistan

(LOS ANGELES) - It is so easy for Americans to be supportive of the wars overseas, but understanding what they support is a different thing altogether. There are the politics, but let's put that aside.

The lives of combat forces are hard, very hard. There is the fear, there is the anticipation, the heat, the cold, the fatigue, the marginal food, the attitudes, the endless spirit of competition for rank; the list goes on and on.

As much as those hardships may be to bear, there is the separation from family for six months to a year at a time. This is hard for even the most professional and the most accomplished.

Then there are the losses, the friends who suddenly are no longer there. Sometimes they are there, but they are dead, and the same cramped vehicles that transported them into combat, will likely take them back out. Or they will be in the 'cas evac vehicle' to be rushed to medical care, or the morgue. This is such a different scenario from regular everyday life, that it can hardly be properly conveyed with words. The feeling it gives you in the pit of your stomach comes closer.

When the Marine casualties were piling up around Fallujah in 2004, those in charge of the dead doused their bodies with gasoline to minimize the smell. I met a nurse at Balad, Iraq whose husband cannot fill his car up at the fuel pumps without experiencing severe distress related to his war-born Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD.

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Iraq & Afghanistan

We get up in the morning and because we stayed up late,
The snooze button is hit for ten more minutes to take,
They get up in the wee hours not sure of their fate,
Although cool throughout the night now the sun will bake.

We take our kids to a baby sitter, could be straight to school,
Maybe the bus stop or whomever’s turn it is to carpool,
They get dressed hurriedly, a uniform and combat boots,
Instead of skirts, dresses, heels, the latest 5th Avenue Suit.

For us another day of hustle and all that we consider crap,
Stopped for a speeding ticket, coffee or juice spilled in our lap,
They only wish for the opportunity to be stopped by a traffic cop,
Hey, what’s that over there? Returning fire, pop, pop and pop.

It’s baseball season now, I wonder who’s going to get the save,
A stadium filled to capacity and home fans do the wave,
Another roadside bomb explodes, oh no, I can’t feel my legs,
Maybe I would have been better off instead by going to my grave.

Please say to me this is not going to be just another Viet Nam,
Tell me again why we are in Iraq and a country called Afghanistan?
I’ll search him this time, wait a minute, what’s this, another one, oh man,
I didn’t move away fast enough; hopefully the docs can reattach my hand.

Maybe we didn’t work today, realizing we still have some of our sick days,
Yeah, call off, relax, take it easy and the best part is we still get paid.
We sit home at the dinner table; will you pass the ketchup please?
Didn’t we have this stuff last night? You mean there’s still more of these?

I’ll cut the grass, go to the store, lounge around or just go back to bed,
Before that, where’s the dog or cat food? For sure the pet has to be fed,
I’ll surprise the family tonight, it’s the doorbell, must be the pizza man,
Ever wonder how pepperoni & cheese would taste with a little desert sand?

Yes, we sure do have it rough don’t we? Where in the heck is that cable remote?
The weather channel says low 60’s for Friday; kids don’t forget your coats,
Tomorrow is another day, same old stuff, for the most part again to be well fed,
How would you feel if the undercarriage of a truck was a canopy for your bed?

October 10,2009, the report is from enemy assaults on an Afghanistan U.S. outpost,
Early morning firefight 07/13/2008, Sgt. Erich Phillips' carbine quit in an area remote,
9 U.S. soldiers lay dead 27 wounded in chaos as weapons repeatedly failed in battle,
Back up was as close as well, it was so far away it might as well have been Seattle.

First, the second and third class crap with armored vehicles and their bulletproof vest,
Time & time again they failed in combat now we can add the M4, not passing the test,
Are our men and women in a war or is this an occasion to try out a poker faced bluff?
Whatever, as U.S. lives are at stake, isn’t it about time the public says "enough is enough"?

Luke Easter

Luke Easter is a poet who writes about things that are very close to the heart of Salem-News.com. Another former U.S. Marine, Luke heals the world with an approach that reaches people on a different level, one known for centuries, yet too often forgotten in the one we live in.

We live in a world of social & economic injustice. The main reason for founding America in the first place was to relieve the oppression of the King of England. Patrick Henry said it best, “give me liberty or give me death.” And yet, all too often death seems to be the only way out. Why is there such a high suicide rate especially among teens, in the land of the free & the home of the brave? What makes headlines? Good news? Ha! More depressing stories than anything else. I feel poetry takes an edge off the hurt of bad news while still delivering it but in a, “glitzy” sort of way. Giving a different perspective. Kind of like slap in the face as opposed to a knife in the back. At least with the slap you’ll live to see another day and you will know whom it’s from. I wasn’t here for the beginning of the world but at 59, I just might be here for the end.

Even though it’s still a knife, rhyme poetry helps to dull the blade. And that’s my job. You can write to Luke Easter at: lyricsfromlucas@aol.com