The following poem is dedicated to Byron Joseph Oler. Patriot, defender of the downtrodden, lover of life, and good friend. RIP, Byron.
A bend of the elbow
Slight parting of the lips
Liquid release
Tumbles down throat
Forget
Never
Forgive
Forever
Forever forgiving
Fighting in Thua Thien Hue Province
8,890 miles from his front porch
In the jungles of Vietnam
Vietnam, where our sons
And those they vanquished
Fertilize the rice patties
Black on black
A terror in a nightmare
Underground
Rivers of spilled blood
A slow smoldering of youth
To fight
To kill
From the inside out
No place for a black man
No place for any man
A jagged slice of hell
And helicopters
Deliberate
Deadly
An endless loop
Of rosy faces lost
Brothers formed in
In the green dungeon of death
Perishing
To the beasts of battle
His heart has missed so many beats
That his pulse is erratic
A collection
Of whirring chopper blades
Machine gun burst
Exploding bodies
Beats between beats
A cadence
A twisted military march
Of beats between beats
He picks up his pen
Hoping this time
He can bleed the words from his fingertips
Like the fields of Vietnam which bled him
Of his innocence
And that is finally
What he is left with:
Pen
Vietnam
Drink
And beats
Between beats
Only he hears
