why i'm still up at this time of night

Nights like this are something that comes and goes. I used to do the medication trip, but learned through bitter experience that when medicated if the dreams or memories are especially disturbing I was unable to escape by awakening. I reached a place where I just say, "Oh well, one of those nights again. " If I'm tired tomorrow, so be it. It works better this way. I try to get the thoughts and words on paper (or screen) and when it's done I usually throw it away. Since I have this blog now, I figured what the hell? This isn't about actual combat, this is about afterward.


coming to the battleground far too late
i saw bodies flung down to death
broken toys of some child god

the enemy had taken their own
we began to gather ours
moving in the silence of the place

trying to match the parts and shreds
which was not an easy thing
when they were small

the carnage was both modern and complete
and close fought like the ancients
it only takes a little while

and war becomes primative again
the smell was something i smell tonight
it remains without words to explain

slow moves were taken
gently lifting and laying down again
the burned lads especially needed that

the time they had lain was harsh
sun and heat were at work
in the tropics rot starts now

i remember thinking
this jungle drinks our blood
and grows

that horrid day amid all that brutal death
one thing alone made me cry
a butterfly

once bright and fragile
had landed upon the ruined
face of some shot up kid

wings touched in blood
unable to fly away
it died there


time to turn this off, settle in, drink some peppermint tea, read...you insomniacs know the drill