Intoxyc8me's blog: "War Zone"

Not a Day Goes By by LateNiteFantasy© Patroling in the jungle choking down the fear. Unwilling to show my care, by displaying my best leer. Skies fall and panic grips. The savor of dirt and blood. Haunting sounds of screams, and the feel of wet piss. Mortars shake my world, and take my breathe. Your hand grabs my arm, My insides burn and melt. I'm told of your bravery, the lives that it saved. Informed of your sacrifice, And your mothers loss. Years have dimmed my eyes, as I search the black granite. Groping with trembling hands, I rub to paper that is in my heart. I honor your courage, and pray for your soul. I weep for our loss and those who join you on this wall.

Spoils of War by LateNiteFantasy© The soldier boys go blindly off to fight A battle not of their choosing. The war Of today's fashion is a show of might By coward suits with agendas set for Their own ego or enrichment. They know They cannot bleed, they cannot die. They send Another's precious young to maintain the flow Of dollars to their deep pockets. The end Of innocence for a nation comes when The people understand their young must die So power's fortunes won't. It is, again, The tragedy of history. And why We keep repeating this sickness, I can't Say, but my experience fuels this rant.

Collateral Damage by LateNiteFantasy© A moments reflection as we wait for imminent war, to draw on vast knowledge of what WE will cause. Who really is the enemy, the one we all hate enough to want them to never share breath again. Is it the taxi driver, if he is lucky, his job will most certainly be lost, on bombed out, broken roadways? Is it the student, whose ruminations will be trapped inside the walls of his mind until whenever? Is it the wife of a holy man, whose meditative voice, will be completely silenced, forever? We put in our battle scarred raft, at the headwater of a river, upon which there is no calm, no place to stop and change course. What is collateral damage and does CNN report it? Is it our brave soldier who loses his life for the cause? Is it the material destruction of inspired man's physical creations, buildings and art poured forth in torrents of creativity? Is it the babies that won't be born because innocent parents are dead, or the ones that shouldn't be, parents exposed to radioactive dust? Is it the higher oil prices that will burden already reeling economies in every country, from the United States to Japan? We push ahead daily, desiring to better our own world, the one that we live every day, and share with those close to us. They are us, across the world, their dreams and fears so similar. What is this deep, heartfelt trepidation? Our conscience dying... collateral damage.

The Face of War by LateNiteFantasy© Gray clones stare into the eagle snake eye of Doubt, too scared to move, too scared to breathe, shadow hands caress the shoulders... ...air smells like stale blood. The face of War is a singular metal geopolitical Byzantine mask of Shame of Doubt of Fear of Hell. Cold gray soldiers drunk on the cannibal blood of Victory eat meat of prisoners choking on dust on smoke on Thought. The tanks crawl across the oil-spilled, mud filled Hell of broken souls upon the metal wood chains spike hammer wheel-of-Death. Children scream in pain, impaled for crimes unknown, uncommitted, unborn. Parents dying, mothers crying, brothers lying. The War of the Truth...

20 Marines to the Gallon by LateNiteFantasy© Basra, Umm Qasr, Karbala, and Baghdad This is the road to freedom. Sit back America and watch your CNN All day and all night. Time to topple our former friend. Collateral damage and friendly fire Are all part of the show. It really looks neat at night When the rockets glow. So eat your freedom fries and sit on your obese rears. Let the volunteers fight this one. I love my war footage, says every Patriot. You go to support your troops, But God forbid you show a breast on network tv. Scandal! Alarm! What about our children? I guess planes slamming into skyscrapers was okay for their eyes Or that missile that hit a mosque. Have no fear the Marines are here To save the day and the price of gas. Saddam wasn’t the puppeteer of 9-11, but was clearly a fan. What do you expect from an ally, at least when Ronnie and George I loved him. Time to cancel Saddam’s Show, although it had been fun, Especially when we gave him his toys to kill Iranian young. The blood of liberty propels my SUV As I head to the mall to buy the newest Left Behind book. God is on our side and He’s also with them. This war should be entertaining, since I’m not fighting this one. I did my part as an American; I shopped. Sure there are no jobs and my kid can hardly read, Crime is on the rise and veterans can fend for themselves. At least that’s the Party’s bottom line. But it is good to know, riding in my SUV That it gets 20 Marines to the gallon And Iraqis will have freedom with Halliburton uber alles. 2/28/03

All innocence is lost by LateNiteFantasy© Innocence lost The tanker heaves left, and pulls away. Fuel spray glistens with brilliant light. Caribbean sunlight fills the spectre's windows. My mind races through roaring silence. The turbo props hum in unison. Mere seconds left to go. Black suet clouds fill the air around us. Then, the silence is broken. Shards slam into the fuselage. I swallow hard. All other thought escape my memory. Focus it's time to go. The crow's nest operator nods. I tighten the straps around me. I pause, pray, and squeeze the Vulcan's trigger. A violent burst erupts below. Air rushes past, disoriented I look down. A large hole to the right of my feet. I look around at Tipper. I see concern in his eyes. "Kick an ammo box into it," he said. I do so, kicking spent shells around. The wind is not as strong, filling the hole. I return fire with renewed intent. Can't let them shoot us down. Bullets spray a spiral arc from my chain gun. The bofor cannons shake the ship violently. Their operators smile with clear intent. We drop altitude to close the gap between us. The worst of it is yet before us. All innocence is lost.

Merciful Hatred by LateNiteFantasy© I hear the whirring of the chopper blades sporadic fire on the ground as the crew chief shouts a warning. I could feel the rope burning through my gloves as I belayed down full of adrenaline. I didn’t fear the enemy, John had my back. We ran several meters to where the soldier lie. I remember seeing the blood as it dripped from the camo on his right arm. I covered him and checked his pulse to prep him for his return flight. He clutched my arm hard and I could see that he was scared. He whimpered for his mother afraid he was going to die. I smiled at him and said that he’d make it though the wounds were bad. In that moment it hit me that this young kid had been shot and the senselessness of it all. We put him on the gurney and carried him to the chopper where the PJ on deck strapped him in. John and I stood beside the deck smiling down at him and promised he’d be OK. He asked why I wasn’t coming along and I told him there was no room. The sound of the chopper was defining as it pitched into the sky and then silence. I looked at John and John knew. We turned and walked a while searching everywhere for the enemy. He didn’t hear us coming until I chambered a round into my weapon. I could see the fear in his eyes but I raised my gun anyway and smiled. I squeezed the trigger in pure hatred. You will not do this again. wrote this one day while I was in country...