I love you guys!
Joe

Occasional tumbles from ancient dress of long-lodged, fallen, rock
tumble fast as feathers beneath a sky much older than the stone.
We become linked, drawn away from the cities, that ride our eyes lonesome.
Passengers in celestial flow; the Father, winding water, in definition’s wake;
we quake for an instant, seeking soft quiet, we contemplate the cost of air.
Not a sudden violence; but, time’s cleansing of the grief in channels of ruptured rock,
she hides within her beauty, and bears no mind to an untaken vision.
What claimed the native eye and blessed it, spiritual. She does not need praise,
for those who follow must reverence, and pity all history that mistrust these spaces.
Holding all expected rages, being servant to her crag-vented hands,
points the finger, at what eyes cannot see for themselves
that she, alone, contains the life’s secret passage; yes, the way.
She knows others leave lands, to sea, for gazes into her endless permanence.
So, take away only that which your vision donates,
for your picture pales beneath her jealously guarded gaze.
Suffering lends to her massive crags; she has been here for mere all of time.
Still unbowed, shakeless, forever, into wisdom’s, infinite continuing,
she sends those messages about the value of dancing and togetherness.
Eyes can take home, only what the camera of the soul sees;
Long has she stood unspectacular to those in blindness to time’s surrender.
The sun will always shine; the wind will endless ride upon the earth;
snow will fall all vanished to her womb-depth river flows.
The rain will glist soft to her ancient, rocky skin,
hardened by the ages of sunning reflection’s face.
Evaporate hands upon her grieving, brief, station.
Standing here, forever is not that far away.
When earth is stilled of human form, she is in mere mourning, morning.
A Godding gift to the breathing air;
the visual to her waters’ eventual wisdom;
a mystery expression of the Mother of Earth.
To tame her mustang’s flare; first, become the wind;
to match her beauty, is to catch a rainbow’s colors; and dance upon the sun.
Jammed corners of air; heartful to an unending, servant, rivered, water;
come to our common-ground Native’s savior; the Earth, for they thought her human.
The eye lays upon landed vision to sound the brain electric.
Delivered senses, carry riverbed impulse on mind, into the peaks of the soul.
A distant perpetual image cannot manage living. It must bear a soul to live.
It lives within what life it gives, and it, gives, only, life.
Perhaps this is the son of the Earth-an ancient child in loving embrace of mind.
For a moment so blessed, we have to return it for others to take the gift so freely given.
This is the Native’s holy house; we have come only to dream, they to worship.
I, in resign, cast my fate to her wind, and pray;
I have seen the birthplace of paradise.

Joe

On that bright day they shot us, they went to there heaven from here; and some of we went with them.
We vowed revenge; our face was taken to tears for our own, who were wronged by their faith!
We roared our powerful Lion, and blessed them with ‘shock and awe’!
We bent them to there knees with bombs and killing machines,
their houses folded to rubble, many children died, in the WRONG PLACE of our enemies.

The snarling wench behind the curtains of green; hides the underneath garments between
the thigh of smoldering lust, to wean ourselves from a devil's Tea.
It is the way to stay on a fragile bench, so no eyes intervene
Agendas of gold more important than life; an investor’s greed bows to its need
“We’re wrong,” says the poor man. “You’re right,” says the rich man, “but you’re wrong!”
Dismantle the queen for she is not what she seems; she is the son of a witch!
Our heads fall, in disbelief; how can we be so disturbed by our own devise?
We take them all to a hole in the world, to think their lives away.
While their children cry, we take their mind, their dignity, their free breath, their way of death!
Behind the green curtain, we guard the prisoner who doesn’t have words;
chain the hand that doesn’t steal our bread; their own insecure minds relentlessly purged.
Behind the green curtain, a blameless arrest; the poor, unintended, taken from their nest.
In a fever, we attempt to bring down their start; in the garden of God, we bring no heart.
We bring the machines, carrying death to the unfaithful's cross;
our presense is venting our hatred, for them by colors of our cloth
The God has our inference, false premised. He looks at us in hallowed disgust;
what sword has this day, been taken, to kill this child?

While our friends feared our ignorance, our enemies laughed and danced at our pain.
The world horrified, came to think us insane! We continued to lie in the face of our stain.
Is there an answer to this constant interest to kill for the faith of another's God?
The faith is not wrong; it is the war that is so odd!

Did you ever have a fly land on your hand and you have to decide if he’s going to die?
Do you kill him on your hand, fouling your skin with his bloody body?
Just before you unload your shock ‘n awe, he’s gone. Do you know why?
Because he’s free! Free from your shock ‘n awe, he’s free! Free from the killer’s law, he’s free.
So be free! Get your freedom to fly, and be free!

Did you ever wonder where the moon goes, when it leaves your sky?
Does it go to some other place where lovers can wonder?
Is it as beautiful there, as it is when you see it? Is the Moon any different when they look upon it?
Do others kiss beneath it like we do? Aren’t they the same as we? Are they any less? Aren't they the same we?
Yes they are, oh yes!

God of my life, let there be peace in this world, especially for the children.
Joe

Saved as a proper means of living.

I have long believed that you do not exist.
Could I have been wrong my whole life long?
Is there something I could have missed?
I must decide which side to ride; my reality won’t accept.
that I am I a passionate pagan and the will Angels decide?

In a cloudless sky, I’ve been for years, since my walk upon the boards;
they come and go, the wind will blow up a frightful storm, ignored.
I cannot bend myself to think that God is on my side;
we’ve been at odds a time or two, I’m sorry if I deride
I come a passionate Pagan, and Angels must decide.

I come into each day in pain, hopeful of its end.
Various degrees, from the hand that sees
It comes to take, I never break; but damn, I sure do bend!
We are evils Angel, you and I, no fault to you, but me!
My call to you; have you a clue, to my ever-present we.

If I contend you don’t exist, then why do I dream this way?
If you’re not what they say, then why do I pray,
to you, inside every single day?
I don’t want things, I’m just I’m just asking:
Are you there with me today?

My impending end asks me to lend a kind word to those abused.
If you believe then go to your knee; ask of the mind a sign.
But, I only know what I think is so; my reality cannot pretend (portend?)
I take two steps back, to go one step ahead, the scars were built into my mind.
A tilted hill makes stronger the will; a higher ground to define.

What praise can you give that let’s me believe;
that you are here and at my side.
A life led rough is good enough, as long as I’m not villified!
We’ve had our differences from time to time; I hope I have not deceived.
I am just real in the way that I feel; but, I love you; that, I believe!

Joe

The first time I got it, I remember going to the latrine and pissing. It felt like shoving an Watermelon through my piss hole. I grabbed the pipes, and thought I was dying!
"This is it, Joe," I thought. "You're done!" Once again, something was attacking my very precious genitals; this time it was a direct hit! One of my Hooch mates came in and noticed my extreme dicomfort.
"You okay, man?" he said.
"Goddamn, this is burning!" I answered.
"Oh hell, you just got the Clap!" he, casually, explained.
"What am going to do man?" I pleaded.
"Just go down to head quarters company, and get in line."
I went to my platton Sargent and got permission to go down. The guy was not kidding. There must have been 20 guys in a line all holding a vile. I went into the clerks office.
"I have a little problem," I told him.
"Here," he handed me a small vile.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Penicillin," he said, "you got the clap don't you? Go to the end of that line." I went back and joined the rest of the misery. The guy in front of me noticed I had no stripes yet.
"First time huh?" he seemed not to be in discomfort. He laughed at my pain.
"Don't worry, this'll take care of it. It's my third time. You'd think I'd know better by now."
Aren't the girls supposed to be checked for this?"
"Yeah, but they can get around that. Best thing to do is get you a Yobo."
"A Yobo?" I inquired.
"Yeah, you know, a girlfriend. You'll get by cheap, you ain't got no rank. Thirty bucks will get you a girl for a month. If they give you the clap, the CID can nail them big time!"
I got my shot in the ass and was told, no booze, no girls, no Orange juice, and no pass for two weeks. I learned my second big lesson in Korea. "Don't stick your dick in one who'll make you sick; you're precious candle will burn its wick!" So, I went back to the barracks and wrote me a song:

I went to Korea, got myself a pass
I got my dick burnt on a funky piece of ass
now I got those blues,
those goin to Unchonni, gonna get VD blues
and that's the reason why, I'm gonna drink Korea dry
cause I got those blues

two weeks restriction, ass full of penicillin
two weeks went by fast gonna get me a pass
and do it all over again
cause I love those blues
those goin to Unchonni, gonna get VD blues
I gotta be careful or then, I'll be standing line again
with those blues

I'm walkin down the street of this foreign land
when something sweet grabs my meat and says
come to me my American
I'm gonna get those blues
those goin to Unchonni, gonna get VD blues
I know what's coming it's true
but that girl, she sure could screw
now I got those blues

I got those goin to Unchonni, gonna get those VD blues

I got the the blues a couple of times during my stay, until I got smart and rented a Yobo. Now that was great. And you didn't have to fear your dick falling off! Just a word from the wise.

Joe