Out of the loop but still hanging on

To all of my readers I appreciate your prayers, your viewing, and interest in poetry. I'm having a few technical difficulties over here (this is war huh?)...but I am still managing to post quite frequently. If you read the 3 poems below they are the most recent poems that I have written. Please understand that my poems do not represent the views of the United States Army. Although, I fight for freedom of speech I am not quite allowed to excercise it as my civilian counterparts are. Life is pretty interesting these days over here in the desert. I am often vague in my talking about my experience but the poetry below speaks for itself. I hope you enjoy it and please stay posted. Much love,

Adrian

Chuck Taylor's and Young Memories

Memories of size 14 boys
mesh high-top Converse Chuck Taylors;
Kicking a big red 14 inch plastic kick ball
straight out of the park!
Thoughts spark!
Like umbrella fireworks on the fourth of July.
Up, up, up into the sky!
As sure as the ball is round
so is the earth.
I’m diving head first from Venus
Head tucked –
Fingers pointed –
Legs together –
into the Adriatic Sea and kiss the
first thing staring at me
starfish –
Algae weaves through my tickled toes.
The mystery is in the childlike part of me.
Like the oceans abyss.
Kids are rich.
Big Kool-Aid smile and wet curly hair,
coco brown skin-
still innocent.
Sticky grape on my t-shirt from the Jelly sandwich.
Sliding into first base –
Always feeling first place.
Grass stains –
What’s pain –?

American Dreaming I, II, and III

I

I miss the bright lights and big city.
American alchemy is calling my name.
Neon lights
like
New York

Land of the brave and free-
I am mentally reaching out like the statue of liberty –
Flame of passionate fire in my torch;
lifted searching and seeking out the gifted part of me.
What does the American Dream mean to me?



II


My mothers blistered
burdened feet
from 29 years of bartending
in the Metro Detroit- Airport.
American dream twinkle in her eye.
Single parent provider,
She’d work all day, everyday
to try to give my brother and I
the best that her wages would allow.
I’m so proud of her hard working American spirit.



III


Obama –
Silent social barriers broken –
burst through leaving remnants of concrete
past –
now made rubble.
No more token?
Negro that is –
American Dreaming with the wind to my back.
Momentum –
Chin up, focus, opportunistic twinkle in my eyes.
Focused –
Momma told me, “Because of your skin you have to be EXTRAordinary”.
No room for just being ordinary, I’ve got to win.
American Dreaming.

A PATRIOTS SEARCH

I search my soul like searching for a lost diamond in a carpet.
I comb back the stripes of this old American Flag
Seeking for the twinkle of my countries stars;
Surely it must exist?
I questioned my patriotism as we so helplessly sat in that concrete bunker on the receiving end of constant One O’ seven millimeter rockets;
and feel their terror rattle the earth around us.
They roar with the same anger as those that release them.
Those that hate who we are and what we represent.
But what is it that we represent?
Buildings rattle and faces are frozen –
I search my soul like searching for a lost diamond in a carpet.
I comb back the stripes of this old American Flag
Red and White, Red and White –
Blue and Stars –
I see these lights in the distance as mangled bodies lay in ambulances
awaiting aid.
Seeking for the twinkle of my countries stars;
Surely it must exist?
Iranian rockets shot from deep in the palm groves of this ancient desert.
When it’s over the sandy sky remains a deep depressing Earl Grey.
Who is our enemy?
Where are we going?
Still questioning and still soldiering –

The War Machine is My Home

I share these thoughts from downrange.
Like the Middle Eastern sun burns.
And it is so, that war will take its toll.
My suppressed rebellion and art are distinct from politics.
Each poetic page written is clothed with Anti-romantic overtones.
Like a “boom” catches your attention so will this lyrical realism.
Caught up in the war machine;
Hands flailing, my eyes bulging, gasping
deeply, like looking for clean air in a sandstorm.
Nearly impossible –
I am searching for the creative part of me.
This is me living life while it is mine to live.
Meanwhile someone else lost there’s today.
So why complain.
I am daily escaping the hands of complacency,
And the dangers of monotony haunt me.

But I am alive
in the war machine.
This is my home.

New Age Warrior

I am a spectator to the ostensible American Warrior.
He is built like the vehicle he engages Muhalla’s in;

A Stryker!

Nineteen years old, with an admirable swagger
a “dip” the size of Texas fulfills his bottom lip.
Fast, quick, and sharp as a bed of nails.
Has no idea of his courage, oblivious to the politics.
“Who the hell is this Obama cat”!
Thinks he’s born to take it to the enemy.
At least his training makes him feel that way.
Sometimes over confident,
but that bumpy mysterious ride in a Stryker
to some unknown place in Baghdad keeps him in check.
Burdened down by his gear,
dressed like a tactical Christmas tree
decorated with ornaments of body armor.
His Wiley X goggles fog from the heart pound,
nervous, and abnormal breathing pattern
in which only a Soldier that’s been on “a mission” can describe.
Some call it adrenaline.
We call it……

Well I don’t know –

This is a new kind of Soldier.
Not your Vietnam War kind of Soldier.
Not your Desert Storm 1991 kind of Soldier.
But the Nintendo-age, Generation-X, first person shooter
video game playing, digital uniform wearing,
terrorist fighting, engaging bad guys in the middle of the night,
New Age ostensible American Warrior.

He is a Dragoon!

Second Calvary Stryker Regiment

"Right Pain Left Brain" By Dr. Larry Juchartz

http://rightbrainleftpain.blogspot.com/

Dr. Juchartz is a phenomenal writer and intellectual. He was my African American Literature professor at Eastern Michigan University. His new blog is worth it's weight in gold. As his subtitle says it all, "shift the ideology and change the world". Dr. Juchartz also edited my work for my book and was one of the first to truly encourage me to write by introducing me to Robbie Dean Press publisher of my poetry book.

POETRY IS

Poetry is the enriched well
where the epicenter of spirit
and soul live and dance
on heavens blue firmament.

Poetry is the home of aesthetics and code;
Hidden like messages in freed slaves hymns.
Poetry is the colorful kaleidoscope of lyrics and realism.

Poetry is my sounding board to
the world around me.

Desert –

War –

Living –

Embracing –

Poetry is the speaker that vibrates
an afferent sound.
Poetry is collectively my truth
and the captured clippings
of minuscule moments.
Two fingers pressed against
my poetic pulse and I see that
I am living, breathing,
heart pumping, thinking,
tasting, and smelling.

Desert –

War –

Living –

Embracing –

What poetry is.

The Impersonal Loss

What do we make of this loss?

Is it easier to a loose a Soldier than a civilian?

Are we numb to this?

Is it just as impersonal as the local news reports?

“4 Soldier’s killed by a deep buried IED today”.

Ask the wife or children of one our KIA’s.

Ask the battle buddy of one of our KIA’s.

Experience the chaos in an operations center,

When that fatal call is made over the radio.

Mouths are dropped.

Headsets are thrown.

Frustration-

Have you ever heard the bugle call?

Felt the tension that resonates in the air like a acoustic conundrum.

Seen a mothers face as she is handed a sharply folded American flag.

Experienced the jerk reaction from the M16’s fired off twenty one times. And watched the tears run from mourning faces and dampen their blouses.

They serve at the tip of the spear.

Where it is sharp and edgy and there is the most fear;

Where the flesh is easily pierced and punctured.

Questioning the innermost parts of their soul; am I ready?

What do we make of this loss?

Is it easier to a loose a Soldier than a civilian?

Are we numb to this?

Is it just as impersonal as the local news reports?

“4 Soldier’s killed by a deep buried IED today”.

NOBLESSE OBLIGE: IT'S A LIFESTYLE

First, I want to express my gratitude to those of you who take the time to read my poetry. I am inspired by everyone of your comments. I have no expectations of you, I am just sharing the journey with anyone who loves life as much as I do. I ran across a word the other day that I just can't get out of my head "noblesse oblige": the obligation of honorable, generous, and responsible behavior associated with high rank or birth.

Maybe its just my opinion. But I think we have a responsibility to give one another our best everyday! Even if it is not just of common nature to give of yourself or by personal ambition so much as noblesse oblige.

I've been a Troop commander for about two months now. I am constantly amazed at how much my personal attitude is influential in the lives of those around. Positive energy is contagious. When I was coming up I remember that saying that "attitude is everything" sounding like the biggest cliche' to me. Cliche and all; it's true. Everyday I am encouraging young Soldiers, single parent soldiers who have left their children behind, people who just got married before they deployed, and several other instances. These are individuals who sacrifice a lot to be here (Iraq) to serve as they have made the commitment for whatever reason. I owe them my best daily. Each day I am working at becoming better, sharper, faster, and stronger. Noblesse Oblige is a lifestyle that I have committed myself to. Noblesse Oblige ought to be a brand...share with someone the meaning of it....let's see how far we can take it.

" A SOLDIER'S POETIC RESPONSE: A SLICE OF HIS LIFE"

http://www.marketingnewauthors.com/a-soldiers-poetic.html