milosevic

milosevic
was doing what he thought was right
but horrible fright
and rape camps
stamped across a young girl's eye
she wanted to die
he wanted to be an ultra nationalist
and create an empire
a simple narcissistic liar
and a mass murderer
with a driven wife
who had a complicated life
changing opinions everyday
killing afternoon teas
with sugar, please
torture in the mountains
skeletons found
underground bound
broken arms around the trees
holding dead babies
with sugar, please

Assad is now in Moscow drinking

nothing here about GOD
or evangelicals or even Mormon polygamists
in southern Utah with a child bride
nothing to hide
behind or conceal

as i age while attempting to heal

Assad is now in Moscow drinking:

what is he thinking

as he looks constantly over his back

for the assassin who's job was to track

the tyrant to his grave

this is not meant to be a blog
where i'm preaching about myself
or nature or Earth
it may in fact have no worth
& i'm okay with that having already fought one war
in Vietnam a long day ago
which now feels like a shadow

before the twin towers fell and ground zero cast a spell
deep into the mountains of eastern Afghanistan
when i didn't understand
the CIA 

or wall street executive pay

no, this isn't about food or being intentionally rude
& not about global warming
or locusts swarming
or how mankind has finally found
freely & unbound
his soul and his Redeemer

i am not the schemer
nor will i use sleight of hand
to lead a lonely hearts club band
into my small white town

Damascus has fallen down

and the Mosque tower is now calling

the faithful to prayer

is there enough for all the Middle East people to share?

but there is nothing here about GOD

OR maybe there is 

and it's everywhere,

which only seems fair

after the many many years of terror and bloodshed.

the closet door

you worked real hard
playing me
inside the closet door
but nothing more
i was your dime store buy
so casually you'd try
to come up to my room
with flowers in your bowl
like fingers
digging into my soul
& our shared secrets in bed
fell out and totally bled
you took me for granted
like a seed that was planted
and measured me
like a disposable chew
what was i to do?
i was in love with you.
you looked real good
deceiving
my head alive with hope
growing tougher to cope
as i heard your stories
of love and glories
come up to my room
with romance at the start
like fingers
digging into my heart
& our shared secrets in bed
fell out and bled
you took me for granted
like a seed that was planted
and measured me
like a disposable chew
what was i to do?
i was in love with you.

save us from this killing beast!

Roosevelt, Churchill, Stalin,

Potsdam, Yalta, Tokyo and Berlin 

South Korea and Mao and for the other guys somehow 

this is important 

without the atomic bomb but with the Marshall Plan 

and the German wall

before the fall 

Seoul overrun by Kim with a quick plan for victory to Pusan 

foiled

& the Great March forward somehow spoiled 

by stiff US resistance and blood and guts and honor

and then Truman, McArthur and the Yalu 

long after Nagasaki but who really knew 

what Eisenhower was about to reveal?

yes, the military industrial complex was designed to steal 

what even the CIA didn't understand 

or the KGB as they used to say 

back in the Cold War day 

alongside Fidel Castro (but he's now dead, too) as is the Shah

and Ayatollah Khomeini,

who didn't understand containment so said let the revolution begin 

with Iran 

and Venezuela and Hezbollah 

the oil flows spelled mister moolah in a brave new world 

with Huxley golf courses in the sky and 

the fervent Taliban who hate women, 

who want control more than sex 

Man as the new T-Rex!

not the woman in flames or whatever else remains 

beyond Marines in central Baghdad or the Chinese in Senegal 

they're unlucky enough to want it all: 

prayer flags flutter in a Himalayan wind.

the soul of Tibet, the Dalai Lama, without a bed

in his native-born country said, 

Peace on Earth (at the very least) 

save us from this killing beast!

and now the orange monkey and Putin,

rip roaring with their guns out shooting

Greenland overtaken and Ukraine

Taiwan a chip in the poker game

robots working the factory floor

Orwell's vision of a constant war

has overcome the hopes for lasting Peace:

save us from this killing beast!

be my valentine

"i think i'm gonna make it through just fine
won't you be my valentine?"
you read the words & wished it true
the soldier would come back to you
in Springtime with his flowering smile
he'd pick you up and squeeze awhile
your thin and fine young lady breast
closer to his young man chest
you held his letter in your hand
and feared it was a grain of sand
slipping to the kitchen floor
where it would likely be no more
"i think i'm gonna make it through just fine
won't you be my valentine?"

he died in ambush just past nine
his wet clothes still hanging from your line
a box with ribbons and other stuff
arrived much later but it wasn't enough.

in time

an old wooden cart
was pulled by two draft animals
as two wheels spun
in time to the passing of the sun
scoring music, conducting art
while Mozart on his cresting wave
of enlightenment and fire
tossed tools to a valley slave
for thought and even higher
the speed of universal light
being true to natural law
was bent in time beyond his sight
but not beyond recall
as two wheels spun
in time to the passing of the sun

what do i say?

the pale blue dot
a point of light
still in balance
between what is right
and misunderstood
with rivers of blood
and tides of gloom
marching armies
bringing death and doom
instead of what is great and good
tell me, what do i say
if i'm asked today?
what should she teach her children?
& if they disagree, would i care?
is it my responsibility to be everywhere
there is a special need?
another open mouth to feed?
a human with malcontent
maybe even murderous desire
in a belly full of hate
eyes aglow with wicked fire
and dreams of religious empire
tell me, what do i say
if i'm asked today?
am i a Christian or a God
Jew or Muslim or naked man
running from the garden tree
toward a sweetly scented land?
regard the thin atmosphere
both far and fragrantly near
spinning around our simple Star
in a cosmos where all words
bounce away from where they are
to settle on an unhealed scar
tell me, what do i feel
the moment i find to kneel
and pray?
tell me, what do i say?

Dear Mr. Hoover

Dear Allison,

Thank you for the kind letter
acknowledging my military service
to our country, the United
States of America. I do wish to
say, however, that I'm not sure
upon reflection if I was a brave
young man. I went to a far-away
land called Vietnam, in 1969.
There, the people were mostly farmers whose
favorite food was rice, which they grew.
They spoke a language I could not speak, and
I tried to learn, but wasn't very good.
Sometimes I felt afraid, especially at night
when there were unexpected noises, strange shadows,
and the loud sound of rifles being used.
I met many people and they were mostly friendly
and beautiful, with big smiles on happy faces.
Yes, I did volunteer for the army and if I helped
keep people in America safe, I am grateful.
I love this land, because it is your land and it is mine.

Again, thank you for the kind letter, Allison.

by
Greg Hoover

in military hands

taps for Fort Hood
on the sad shoulder of a weeping country
firm and good
the melancholy chords
drift underneath the raised
and sharpened swords
in military hands

taps for the dead
on the still unanswered Sargeant Major call
Honor said
that silence calls the name
of soldiers laid to rest
and they remain
in military hands

the ghost

i know what you're thinking.
Charlie the dog
by the back door
rubbing a shadow on the floor
with his tiny tongue
could not smell your disappointment

but it was to be all or nothing.
the fall leaves keep falling
into the pond
where they would bond
with the surface tension of water
and struggle to stay afloat

you have always been truthful.

i kicked around in the kitchen
re-facing cabinets and myself
wondering if the shelf
in the closet would hold my weight
when i gave up the ghost

you have cared for me too much.
i tried to walk
in your trail shoes
reading a section of the news
but was overwhelmed
by the lines of my indifference

she's

she's got pins in her nose
white ears silver toes
chocolate lips on her face
and candy boys in her case
that go wherever she goes
she's got fire in her hair
a hot whiskey stare
heavy songs in her head
grinding urgent in bed
she's more than happy to share
'cause she's the new girl tonight
higher than a kite
bright in her fancy Irish sky
like sweet strawberry pie
not a stranger in sight
she's a special delight

and I always die

what the fuck was it all about? 

"piss off!" i heard them shout 

it's Hiroshima 

with a blinding atomic storm 

early August trees smoking and torn 

Los Alamos created pieces of despair 

melting human skin in super heated air

and no United Nations to give a shit or care:

there are shadows torched against a crumbling wall

and i'm expected to forget i saw??

damn, applause rose from across the Pacific

from bar stools who thought it was terrific:

i still see the survivors pointing bony fingers

at me and i always die.