Copyright and Privacy

MEA Copyright and Privacy Policy

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749 Comments

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  • Julie Smoots poem was readable, moving, and reminds us there are still troops risking their lives and fulfilling their oaths. I serve as editor of DD 214 Chronicle, a bimonthly newspaper for veterans (and all who love them) in Northeast Ohio. May I have permission to publish Ms. Smoots poem in the newspaper as well as Facebook/DD 214 Chronicle and dd214chronicle.com?

    I’ll need her military bio as well as a good picture of her. It will run in our Nov Dec edition.

    Thank you for all the work you do on behalf of veterans.

    John H. Tidyman, 11 Bravo 40

    forgedirons@yahoo.com
    216-789-3502

  • “Negligent Discharge”
    ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    First trauma, first thoughts, not even a doubt.
    ••••
    My belt around my neck, my best exit route.
    ••••
    Not difficult just wrap it, then jump, hang, lights out.
    ••••
    Who thought this whole war, would leave life so tense.
    ••••
    PTSD, the syptoms immense.
    ••••
    The symptoms like war, perhaps more intense.
    ••••
    For the rest of my days, only death will make sense.
    •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 30, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)

  • “Killed In (re)Action”
    •••••••••••••••••••••••••
    We egressed from Fallujah, to my soul windows are threats.
    ••••
    Scan into each spider hole, for sniper silhouettes.
    ••••
    If there was a shooter, cross-hairs would be on me.
    ••••
    Machine-gun plus insurgent equals target; you’re deceased.
    ••••
    Time to go to sleep, turn life’s switch off; rest in peace.
    ••••
    No, I wasn’t scared, but of course I did have fear.
    ••••
    I thought about my mom, thought last days spent could be here.
    ••••
    No more I do remember, no more I see or hear.
    ••••
    Entry wound into my head, exit wound out rear.
    ••••
    Seven-six-two-caliber, brain hemmhorage too severe.
    ••••
    To Dover Air-Force Base, destinitation K-I-A.
    ••••
    By commercial jet we’ll fly, Semper Fi-flight just one way.
    ••••
    Back onto my planet; my city, yes my home.
    ••••
    So close, but oh so far; at attention, you now lay.
    ••••
    Bugle horn, it’s brass; like the 5-5-6 of past.
    ••••
    Taps, it soon plays last; prayers for all those who have passed.
    ••••
    Patience is a virtue, now hurry up and wait.
    ••••
    Soon you go to hell-regroup, then go guard Heaven’s Gate.
    ••••
    Twenty-One, Seven-Guns, Devil Dog Salute.
    ••••
    Jarheads duty detail, flag draped coffin my Dress Blues.
    ••••
    The folded-stars and stripes-symbolic triangle, that’s left.
    ••••
    Placed into my wive’s warm hands, my Tri-ang-le of Death.
    ••••
    I’m sorry to my loved ones, I wish my eyes did see; location of the Sunni, Muslim martyr-Ji-ha-di.
    ••••
    One shot and one kill, the round rippled with effect.
    ••••
    I knew I could be killed, job performance; life or death.
    ••••
    The latter’s not a raise, six-feet lower; paid respect.
    ••••
    The prior means I killed, either way my life is wrecked.
    ••••
    Tear your souls apart, break each beating empty heart.
    ••••
    Your family will die too, combat killed all just like you.
    ••••
    You’re a noose around their necks, synching slowly, since war’s start.
    ••••
    Each day you steal their breaths, like a thief commits a theft.
    ••••
    Marine, killed in action; re-action, family killed.
    ••••
    You died, for your country.
    ••••
    They died for your death.
    ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 30, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)
    ♤▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪
    ♧▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪
    ▪Spider Hole: Saddam Hussein was found in a small oxygenated, underground bunker known as a “spider hole,” in Tikrit, Iraq; December 13, 2003. He was armed, but immediately surrendered to U.S. Special Forces.
    ▪Seven Six Two: 7.62×39 is the caliber of the round used in many Iraqi weapon platforms, most notably; the AK-47 Assault Rifle.
    ▪Dover Air Force Base: Located in Deleware, all troops killed overseas are flown stateside, and their initial destination is Dover, where specific procedures, such as uniform decoration and tailoring, etc.
    ▪Twenty One, Seven Guns, Devil Dog Salute: 21 Gun Salute. When buried with military honors, it is customary that 7 members, all in the same branch, fire a volley of 3 rounds from a rifle, in honor of the deceased Veteran. (7×3=21)
    ▪Folded Stars and Stripes: The US Flag, that is in it’s ceremonious triangular shape, after being folded from both outside edges, inward by two Servicemen.
    ▪Triangle Of Death: The “Triangle of Death” (not to be confused with the much larger Sunni Triangle further north) lies between Baghdad and Al Hillah, is inhabited by one million mostly Sunni civilians, and contains several large towns.
    ▪Taps: The traditional, song which is played on a Bugle, after the 21-Gun Salute, at the burial of a deceased Veteran.
    ▪Guarding Heaven’s Gate: United States Marines are suposedly responsible for “guarding Heaven’s gate.” Contradictory to this theory, US Marines who are Killed in Action in a combat zone, “go to Hell, to regroup.”
    ▪Jihadi: Jihad generally refers to combat on the name of Islam. Muslims wage Jihad (Religious War) against Christians and Jews. Jihadi is a bit of a spin off, used as slang to refer to an enemy fighter, of either sex; Jihadi-Joe/Jihadi-Jane.
    ▪One Shot One Kill: Quote used by U.S. Marine Scout Snipers. Reducing the amount of shots fired, reduces the possibility that the enemy locate and/or engage the sniper.
    ▪The Round Rippled In Effect: Ripple Effect generally refers to how one event causes a reaction in another. When a Service Member, or in any case usually, the death of one family member can obviously have an effect on another member, whose reaction then has an effect on another… etc.
    ▪556: 5.56 is the caliber of the ammunition used in most American military rifle platforms; such as the M-16, M249 Squad Automatic Weapon, and M-4 Carbine.
    ▪Brass: the cartridge that holds the gunpowder in a bullet is made of brass, and after firing a round, we refer to the shell casings as “spent brass.”
    ▪Jar Head: A nickname given to Marines because of the way in which the head of a Marine appears to be screwed into the 360 degree neck portion of the formal Dress Blues uniform, like a jar being screwed into it’s lid.
    ▪Dress Blues: The formal uniform worn by Marines, which is universally the most recognizable uniform in existence. It is also the uniform Marines are often buried in following death.
    ▪Devil Dog: A motivational nickname referring to Marines, which was coined by the Germans during WW1 following the Battle of Belleau Woods, because of the Marines ferocity displayed in combat.
    ▪Semper Fi: Semper Fidelis is the Latin symbolic quote used by Marines, meaning “always faithful.”
    ▪At Attention: Standing at attention is the stationary position service members stand at when told, or in the presence of officers or in formation. Heels are together with feet pointing at a 45 degree angle, back straight, head and eyes forward, hands in a fist, arms straight and down, with thumbs against the pant seams.
    ▪Sunni: A religious sect of Islam
    ▪Cross Hairs: The point of aim seen through a weapon’s optic, such as a sniper’s scope.

  • “Iraq War: 2003-PTSD”
    •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    I’m purging everything Iraq and war related. It’s about damn time. I think 12 years has offered more than enough opportunities to absorb all that I can. I don’t think 12 decades will offer enough opportunities to absorb all that I should.
    ••••
    It’s time to put this dark part of my life, a minuscule part, into a box, close the lid, give it to someone I trust, my sister, and have her safely put everything on a shelf. The reason being, I know I’m not losing my personal memories and history. I’m only tucking them away. Subliminally putting it all into my subconscious mind. Literally putting everything physically out of reach.
    ••••
    I had one hell of a short, yet profound conversation with a Marine I’ve never personally served with or met in person. Our communication has never exceeded a few sentences here and there via social media. Tonight was a bit different though. Tonight was very different, in fact. As I relinquished to my sister my last photo, my only thoughts revolved around the only topic this Marine and I discussed. Somebody, somewhere, somehow, ALWAYS has it worse. These were the thoughts that filled my mind as that very last picture read “sent.” No longer my possession, never again my obsession.
    ••••
    (To my Sister)
    And without further adieu, my final pic taken by “yours truly.” Sorry for sending so many. In comparison to the total amount, this is a small portion, and with the exception to the obvious comical photos, they hold the most importance, pertinence, and historical value. These are pictures of the incidents, missions, accomplishments, triumphs, and tragedies we all endured.
    ••••
    They have already made history, and will forever go down in history, as there’s no doubt they (we) will be discussed in regards to the Iraq War forever. I never shared these facts and stories with any of you. I don’t know why. 49 killed, so many died, hit so hard some think it’s a lie.
    ••••
    These pieces of information, illustrating my life at war, is a glimpse into my psyche. At least hopefully. A part of my trauma, a part of my triumph. Part of an explanation as to why I’ve been impacted in such an enormous, profound manner, with such magnitude, from such a small, seemingly stereotypical, and even uneventful part of my life.
    ••••
    This is why I tattooed myself with memorials, names, dates, and facts. I can’t forget. It would be a disgrace to stop remembering. It would be a disgrace to my Brothers who gave everything. They are why I cannot simply get over what happened, when what happened is still processing this very minute. What happened will continue to process until I die.
    ••••
    This is why I’m not the same. This is why I have such an impulsive urge to continue fighting for these men. In my mind, I’ve been fighting next to them still, since 2005. Now, in 2017, fighting is synonymous with helping. Helping is now the sacrifice. The sacrifice is forever. The sacrifice didn’t end when the tour in Iraq ended. The sacrifice didn’t end when my contract ended.
    ••••
    Things won’t ever be the same. They can, will, and even are good again, but the same? No. I can’t imagine you won’t be changed in someway yourself, simply looking at these pictures, and reading the documents and stories that accompany every detail, of every image. Imagine living it. I’m grateful you never will have to. It’s something you all have the choice to only imagine. Try though. Please try. Please try to understand. Please try to realize I’m not different. I’m broken, and I’m supposed to be broken. That’s OUR normal. I’m grieving. I’ll always grieve.
    ••••
    Try to imagine coming home from one planet to another, where no one has a clue about the world where you just spent every split-second trying to stay alive, but everyone has a clue when you should be “fine” again. On this planet, only a few know exactly what one human can, will, and without hesitation can, will, and do to another human. And why? All because of where you happen to stand on the earth. All because of where you began your life on a sphere of dirt.
    ••••
    War. Simply two groups of human beings. Each group lobbing hard objects back-and-forth at one another. The only goal to stop peoples hearts from beating. Which hearts you take aim at is literally decided by where luck happens to demographically place you on this planet. It’s THAT simple. It’s THAT stupid.
    ••••
    My short and personal war wasn’t over with my closest near death experience. By no means my first, just my last, there, on THAT planet. A new war began when those two mortars forced me out of the sandbox and back to this land. This Planet, not brown and void of all other colors. back to this one, filled with so many colors was overwhelming. Neither were alien planets. I’d simply become an alien with no planet.
    ••••
    Now my new war wasn’t called “war.” My new war was called funeral detail. The details required everything the human senses should not sense, and were not intended to experience. Smelling death and decomposition protruding from caskets while maintaining perfect military bearing. Inspecting the uniforms of my dead brother’s, once living beings, now returning home, being taken off planes wrapped in plastic and cardboard like furniture.
    ••••
    My detail. Covering catastrophic wounds with folded American flags, just minutes before funerals began, and families arrived. Looking at the dead faces of friends, the last time I saw them, full of life. Alive and talking about “how good it was to take another breath,” like Joe Goodrich last said to me standing on the balcony at FOB Hit. Or the last time I talked to Bryan Richardson, and me telling him “you’re the only Marine guaranteed to live.” He was our company radio man. He should have been relatively safe being with the Company Commander at all times. He was our first killed in action less than a month into our tour. I’m not superstitious, but Jesus Christ do I wish I would’ve knocked on wood that day. Did I jinx him?
    ••••
    The last thing I remember about Ryan Kovacicek (Kov), was him playing stairway to heaven on his guitar. Jesus it sucked. He literally played it wrong in every way. I literally don’t ever want to hear it played correctly in any way, ever again. Now I’m looking at his gray face, frozen in time. I see his Vietnam veteran dad, one of my heroes, next to the foot of the casket. I can tell he’s looking at my medals. I know he sees that one that I wish I didn’t receive. The same medal Ryan and I earned for the same reasons. We were hit by the enemy. The outcomes couldn’t be more different. I’m wearing a medal that my dead friend in a coffin next to me is wearing. He’ll wear it for eternity. Ill take mine off in a few hours. Kov’s dad then then asked how I got mine. How’d I get my Purple Heart. How’d I get that mass produced, left over piece of metal and fabric from WWII, that I’d be walking outside with, while Ryan would be going underground with his. “I see you have a Purple Heart son what happened?” I’m thinking but not saying “the same way your son got killed, Sir. Mortar fire. Except two mortars hit me, not one like in your sons case.”
    ••••
    Why did I freeze? Why wouldn’t I? Who wouldn’t? Because any normal parent would at least for a second think, “why are you alive and my kid is torn apart with awful wounds, lifeless in a casket.” How could a completely normal human emotion, and natural question like that, not travel through someone’s mind? A grieving parents mind? How could I not have the insight to know that thought surely went through his mind? How could I not be affected? How could he not be affected? How could no-one be affected?
    ••••
    Now Marines from my tour in 2005 are still being killed in action, today in 2017. It’s like a time machine created with 2005 as it’s only chronological destination. Marines are still dying from wounds endured 12 years ago. Just ask Shurvon’s Mom. He died of his 2005 combat injuries just two months ago. This is the never ending war, the war with only a start date, the war with only a beginning, the war that only ends with Post Traumatic Stress.
    ••••
    I watched ISIS retake “Hit” (Iraqi City) live on TV. The city I almost died in. The city my friends DID die in. How can I consider myself human if I’m not completely affected by 49 of my Marines, and 4500 troops in total, all killed in action, all killed for nothing, all killed in vain. How could I not be affected? How can you not be affected?
    ••••
    I grew up intrigued by the Vietnam War. I always wished I could be a Vietnam veteran. I still do. I never won’t. They are warriors through and through. The extent of their sacrifice, incomprehensible. The ingratitude for their sacrifice, inexcusable. Their treatment from this country, indescribable.
    ••••
    Watch what you wish for because dreams do come true. Watch what is reality, it can easily deceive. Some dreams are nightmares, they also do come true. Remember though, someone’s nightmare will always be worse. Keep fighting. Continue sacrificing. Wake your brother from his dream. Wake your brother from his nightmare, keep moving. A brother somewhere is having a worse nightmare nearby.
    ••••
    Sincerely,
    °°°°A non-dysfunctional Veteran, with a normal reaction, to so many abnormal situations.
    •••••••••••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 23, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)

  • “Post-Parasitic-Stress”
    ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    Diagnosis, yes it’s stress; disorder post-traumatic.
    ••••
    It left you like a shell; depressed emotions automatic.
    ••••
    Affected or infected, now please state your perspective.
    ••••
    Twelve years is very long to be emotionally unexpressive.
    ••••
    Evolution is in action, yes it is excessive.
    ••••
    Take out all combatants, yes our training; it’s incessant.
    ••••
    Use violence of action, “Kill Marine!” ..becomes obsessive.
    ••••
    Ignorant civilians are intensive and offensive.
    ••••
    Stellar VA care and private Dr’s, too expensive.
    ••••
    Those War things that were heard, and all war things inbetween; caused this stress that is emphatic, with deep wounds that can’t be seen.
    ••••
    A yearning to return, another way I truly feel.
    ••••
    Impossible, you can’t contest, and no you can’t appeal.
    ••••
    Post-Traumatic parasite, disorder stressed out ghost.
    ••••
    Lance Corporal always haunted, and the parasite’s new host.
    •••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 30, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)

  • “One More Tour”
    ••••••••••••••••••••
    Memoirs, stanzas, rhymes, and more.
    Words forming poems, that tell of my war.
    ••••
    War is insane, but it has an allure.
    It started with my first, Iraq combat tour.
    ••••
    Why I feel this way, will never be known.
    The smell of my blood, on that hot sun baked stone.
    ••••
    Not knowing why, or what I bled for.
    Not knowing why, why do I want more.
    ••••
    Never the same, life not like before, two mortars, pure terror, now “mi amore.”
    ••••
    One boom, two bang, bloody and maimed.
    Two huge concussions, that shook my whole core.
    ••••
    A Purple Heart medal, the only thing gained.
    Onto my body, hot metal it rained.
    ••••
    Shrapnel wounds, blood, my body, my soul.
    If you pass out, you will die for sure.
    ••••
    Keep your eyes open, alive if you’re sore.
    The enemy hit me, my first Iraq tour.
    ••••
    My mind changed so much, never the same.
    Kill every enemy, “lock load and aim.”
    ••••
    Thoughts that aren’t pure, pure thoughts inhumane.
    You’re going home different, life won’t be the same.
    ••••
    That strange urge you have, to go back for more, that is what you want, what you do yearn for?
    ••••
    Yes it is true, I yearn for that drug, that sweet rush of life, I crave it for sure.
    ••••
    Someone please help me, my mind it’s obsessed.
    More thoughts of Iraq now, I would have thought less.
    ••••
    I know what might work, “Ooh Rah” I’ll fight more!
    “Just give me my rifle, my orders please, Sir!”
    ••••
    I’ll go back again, my next combat tour, fix unresolved issues from 12 years before.
    ••••
    I’ll finish this time, this tour won’t be cut short.
    I’ll kill all combatants, that’s what I’m trained for.
    ••••
    Sent home again early? No that won’t occur!
    I’ll finish this second, Iraq combat tour.
    ••••
    Thoughts are abusive, “Kill Marine Corps!”
    Thoughts are intrusive, go “get some, get more!”
    ••••
    Just go back and fight, don’t get wounded, or more.
    Stay there the course, that’s what will work.
    ••••
    If I survive, my mind will be pure. My prayers would be answered, my mind would be cured.
    ••••
    If this was to happen, I know I’d find peace.
    Just get to Iraq and your guilt will then cease.
    ••••
    But what am I thinking? Yes sure that would work.
    Get used to your guilt though, for nothing will change.
    Get used to your sadness, it’s what you’re in for.
    ••••
    Iraq has been over, that war is no more. Your first tour your last, Iraq combat tour.
    •••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 24, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)

  • “P.O.W.”
    •••••••••
    For me, Iraq seems, like a nightmare that I chase,
    ••••
    As the sand of that hot land, on my tongue I still can taste.
    ••••
    Anxious racing thought, life post-war, a tragic waste.
    ••••
    Simplicity, it’s simple. And that’s simply the case.
    ••••
    Hot Arab desert wind, under Allah’s burning sun.
    ••••
    Hellish scorching heat from Saddam’s breath upon your face.
    ••••
    War feels so very close, and my tour feels very fresh.
    ••••
    This truth so very true, and it’s truth and nothing less.
    ••••
    Now to face the charges, your mind is now confined.
    ••••
    In the Muslim prison, 2005 arrest.
    ••••
    Expect a full life sentence, for its likely I’ll attest.
    ••••
    It’s stuck within Iraq, your mind handcuffed, now confess.
    •••••••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 30, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)

  • “Sacrificial Lamb”
    •••••••••••••••••••••••
    Sacrificial and selfless, but where is the lamb?
    ••••
    Look over there, see he’s raising his hand.
    ••••
    Look there he is, saying “Sir, here I am.”
    ••••
    Quiet, he’s speaking, his words we now hear.
    Silence, please listen, now open your ears.
    ••••
    Here comes his message, pay attention, it’s near.
    ••••
    His message is poignant, it’s profound and it’s clear.
    ••••
    I will not sit idle, I do volunteer. Don’t get me wrong as I’m not without fear.”
    ••••
    “Don’t think that I’m wrong, as my eyes, well with tears.”
    ••••
    “Don’t say I am wrong, while in peace, you stay here.”
    ••••
    “Don’t feel I am wrong, as I gather my gear.”
    ••••
    “I will go fight forward, while you stay in the rear.”
    ••••
    It would only be right, if you look in a mirror.
    ••••
    All that is left, is that you see what is right.
    ••••
    It will not be right, until the truth does appear.
    ••••
    That lamb took your place, and he offered his life.
    ••••
    He picked up a rifle, some bullets, his knife.
    ••••
    He gave you a gift, do you know what it is?
    ••••
    He gave you your everything, and he sacrificed his.
    •••••••••••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 23, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)

  • “The Things We Do”
    ••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    Your decision left your family, your homeland amazed.
    ••••
    It wasn’t for glory, accolades or for praise.
    ••••
    With true valor in the eyes of the enemy you gazed.
    ••••
    You knew what could happen, yet you hardly were phased.
    ••••
    Your selflessness in combat left your mind numb and dazed.
    ••••
    You survived mortars, gunfire and rocket propelled grenades.
    ••••
    You were brave and forged ahead, although so afraid.
    ••••
    For your Country you’d fight, for the rest of your days.
    ••••
    All seemed so simple, now simply a haze.
    ••••
    Your fate was that your body and soul would part ways.
    ••••
    Life flashed through your eyes, as your history did fade.
    ••••
    Was the sacrifice worth the steep price that you paid?
    ••••
    A promise you’d give everything, that promise was made.
    ••••
    Worth it was, your life you did trade.
    •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    •Gregory Fino (0311)
    •US Marine Corps
    •PurpleHeartPoetry

  • Kuwaiti Cookin
    •••••••••••••••••••••
    The Shield placed in the Desert disappeared, now Desert Storm.
    ••••
    Historically the most successful tactics used in war.
    ••••
    Credits and applaud; name-last-Schwarzkopf, First-name-Norm.
    ••••
    A US General I’ll inform, an Oath we know was sworn.
    ••••
    “Kill this guy named Jack?” “That’s your order, G Bush One?”
    ••••
    “I said To KILL Iraq! Come on Norm, you’re not that dumb!”
    ••••
    Iran, did make Saddam, feel psychologically Hussein.
    ••••
    Iran war with Iraq, years lasted; stalemate, after eight.
    ••••
    Bankruptcy from fighting was the Dictator’s true fate.
    ••••
    Year nineteen death’s Highway, ninety-one; Highway of Hell.
    ••••
    Iraq Invades Kuwait, buckle up and please drive well.
    ••••
    Then Bush did advise, Saddam egress now from Kuwait.
    ••••
    Then Bush did a-rise, bomber planes that dropped pure hate.
    ••••
    Ground fighting, not much there and Mother’s tears not shed much here
    ••••
    No one shooting to get shot I’d say that’s War well fought.
    ••••
    Iraqi Army cars in site, no movement I advise.
    ••••
    All inside were burned alive, high fevers their demise.
    ••••
    Lots of sunburnt guys, ALLAH-vera stocks just rised.
    ••••
    Killed so fast not even time for Muslim last goodbyes.
    ••••
    In almost every Arab truck, ceased beating burnt up hearts.
    ••••
    600 Baking ovens, desert temperature went up.
    ••••
    Crispy critter stew please in a sandbox, not a cup.
    ••••
    Iraq of lamb next week, ALLAH-carte and well done cooked.
    ••••
    Pork ribs I do smell chef, Baby-Back-Iraq, I’m hooked.
    ••••
    Three day war we won just look, AirPower-Boyardee!
    ••••
    Yum-yum Sir, Jiha-delish!
    ••••
    Kuwait once more is free.
    ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 30, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)

  • “Forward March”
    ••••••••••••••••••••••
    I suppose this is a good time, to make some things clear.
    ••••
    A disclaimer to squash all the worries, and fear.
    ••••
    These poems are all true, but truth varies through years.
    ••••
    These words represent, more than a decade of tears.
    ••••
    A decade of repressing, the ways that I feel.
    ••••
    I’m not suicidal today, feelings no longer real.
    ••••
    Don’t be afraid, for I’m doing quite well.
    ••••
    Different story three years ago, when life was pure hell.
    ••••
    Now that I have healed, these words I can now tell.
    ••••
    Educate the public, like a Shaman casts spells.
    ••••
    No longer do I feel, I came home an empty shell.
    ••••
    A shelI that would just isolate, self medicate, and dwell.
    ••••
    I’m doing just fine now thank you for the concern.
    ••••
    Just realize I’m now trying to make you all learn.
    ••••
    Everybody heals, at their own distinct rate.
    ••••
    My rate was a decade, but never too late.
    ••••
    Now I continue to heal, and yes I do still mourn.
    ••••
    Please learn what we sacrifice, for that’s what I yearn.
    •••••••••••••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 23, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)

  • “End of War”
    •••••••••••••••
    Your heart tried so hard, to pound one last drum beat.
    ••••
    Your soul, it was unable; within you to keep.
    ••••
    War left you so high, then the lowest of low.
    ••••
    War wounded, your body; your mind and your soul.
    ••••
    Now you have gone, fate chose that you go.
    ••••
    You’re no longer shattered, no longer alone.
    ••••
    With company you linger, you all do atone.
    ••••
    You wounded war warriors, now wounded war ghosts.
    •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 23, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)

  • “My Reason”
    ••••••••••••••••
    My beautiful young daughter, you’re the reason why.
    ••••
    You’re the reason I’m right here and six feet under; I don’t lie.
    ••••
    You’re the only reason, I’ll fight this to the end.
    ••••
    I don’t know how, I don’t know when, I swear to you I’ll mend.
    ••••
    You are who I fight for now, to you I make this vow.
    ••••
    I fought for you, YOUR freedom, doll.
    ••••
    Forever fight, for you I shall.
    •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 30, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)

  • “Vietnam”
    •••••••••••••
    Dear,
    Mr. Vietnam Veteran,

    Allow me to finally welcome you home.
    ••••
    That gratitude something, to you not made known.
    ••••
    Allow me to explain what I bet you don’t know.
    ••••
    Mr. Baby killer, Sir, because you I DID go.
    ••••
    We share things the same, such as wars with no gains.
    ••••
    We share wars where the losses, some say were in vain.
    ••••
    We share way too much, but one thing insane.
    ••••
    We share this in common, our countries disdain.

    Sincerely,
    Mr. Iraq Veteran
    •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 30, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)

  • “Remember Them All”
    ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    I arrived back at home, to my culture and life.
    ••••
    Of course I faced obstacles, of course I faced strife.
    ••••
    We the proud, the few who stand tall.
    ••••
    Elite, we Marines; all gave some-some gave all.
    ••••
    You owe us your patience, for we give you our lives.
    ••••
    Forward we march, despite our demise.
    ••••
    We’ll answer each war call and run towards the fire.
    ••••
    Some men will fall, and some will not rise.
    •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 30, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)

  • “Freedom Burger”
    •••••••••••••••••••••••
    Nuclear, Biological, Chemical brain.
    ••••
    Mustard, hold the gas and one uranium plain.
    ••••
    An appetizer too!
    ••••
    Nagasaki! Hiroshima!
    ••••
    Anthrax sprinkled from a plane, please now and go call FEMA.
    ••••
    One plutonium pizza, with extra chlorine gas.
    ••••
    Small pox special today?
    ••••
    Thanks, but I’ll pass.
    ••••
    Appetite for destruction, call Chef Saddam Hussein.
    ••••
    Put on your MOP suit, radiation it does rain.
    ••••
    This cancer I have, I feel so much pain!
    ••••
    Atomic bomb, detonation, in Mohammed’s name.
    ••••
    Absolutely brilliant, do a curtsy take a bow!
    ••••
    I like my freedom burger rare, let’s hope that stays the same!
    •••••••••••••••••••••••
    © Copyright-Gregory J. Fino-June 23, 2017
    •US Marine Corps (0311)
    •PurpleHeartPoetry (Iraq 2005)

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