Wednesday, February 25, 2009

TMI Thursday: War and Poetry

Round about this time in 1991, I was somewhere in the Saudi desert and, according to the Wikipedia, the ground war to liberate Kuwait was into its second of four days by Feb. 26, 1991.

But just in case something had happened, our platoon sergeant, Sgt. Lambert, had seen to it everyone in the platoon would have at least one happy memory to take with them to the farm they'd just bought.

The night before the platoon rolled north through the breech to evict the evil invaders from Kuwait, Lumpy, as Sgt. Lambert was known for resemblance to the “Leave it to Beaver” character, walked around passing out handfuls of tissue to everyone in the platoon.

“Have fun boys, you never know if it's going to be your last time.”

The next morning one of the guys, I forget who now, commented to one of my buddies, “Bull” Morris, “Hey Bull, hope you don't mind, but I was thinking about your wife last night.”

You'd normally think these would be fightin' words, especially when everyone involved was carrying at least 400 rounds for an automatic rifle, but Bull was a pretty cool dude. His response? “Was she any good?”

So I know what you're thinking, “He promised us poetry in the title, and I ain't seen no damn poetry yet. Just a damn story about communal whacking.” Well, I promised you some war poetry, and here it is. Remember those two words: war and poetry. The first was written by my friend Puddin' and the other by my friend Rat. Yes, we all had nicknames. None of them were flattering, and all of them are cherished memories. Mine, in fact, is inscribed on a big glass mug.

The first poem, From Man To Shit, may be mildly disturbing. I found this out a year later when some damn Swabbie thought it was a suicidal cry for help, rather than one Marine's twisted and humorous tribute to a friend. The Navy has no sense of humor.

The second, Desert Storm “91”, is just plain offensive (remember, "war" and "poetry"). I didn't post this in a Navy space since even then I knew I'd have ended up spending days in sensitivity classes. Again, absolutely no sense of humor.

As amazed as I was to discover I still had the original copies of these monuments to Marine wartime creativity, I decided to provide a clear text version for anyone who can't quite read them.

From Man To Shit
If you slash my wrists
do I not bleed?

Will you curse me for
my deathly deed?

If you crush my spine
do I not scream?

This is the end
of my childhood dream.

I snuff out
the days last smoke.

I know my life's
become a joke.

Cross my path
I'll have no choice

In your death
I must rejoice.

- Puddin' Damnit!

Desert Storm “91”
Welcome to the Kuwaiti dump
Come aboard my little chump

The air is full of burning oil
Our bodies dingy from the soil

My penis is as hard as rock
I need a bitch to service cock

We haven't seen a beer in months
Or porno mags with dripping cunts

But someday soon it will all be over
And I will go home to kick Rover

And fuck my girl for hours on end
Until my penis starts to bend

- Rat “91”


Lemmonex said...

I cannot quite wrap my head around the communal whack. I mean, I can, but it seems so...sticky.

LiLu said...

Lem: I was fine until you said the word "sticky". Thanks for that.

Who wants a cinnabun?!

FoggyDew said...

Lem - Perhaps it wasn't so much communal as 45 guys simutanously taking advantage of the absolute and total darkness of the desert to punch the koala.

LiLu - I'd of killed for a cinnabun 18 years ago today.

Malnurtured Snay said...

Ah, so you are a warrior poet after all.

FoggyDew said...

Snay - Perhaps a warrior poetry critic. Neither of those are mine. I'd say I'm more in the vein of a Hemingway or Brady than a Whitman.

Anonymous said...

I love the Desert Storm "91" poem. It really capture s the essence of having sand in places sand is not supposed to be.

Kate said...

I think I would have rather had her fucked until your penis was bleeding, but it just doesn't RHYME. Hrmph.

Meghan said...

Depends on how far it bends..could be a good thing.

FoggyDew said...

jp - The sand was EVERYWHERE! And it wasn't that nice beach sand either. It was so fine it got into your pores, lacking showers, your skin literally turned to sandpaper.

Kate - Umm, ow. Although, rumor has it there might have been an abrasion or two the morning after we got back.

Meghan - First of all, Welcome! I've also been told it depends on which direction.