With All Their Strength
Don't look me in the eyes
Until the wet is dried from them.
I cannot smile for the life of me,
For life has left me without
A smile to grace my lips with.

My heart is drenched in quiet grief
For things I haven't done, and yet
I've played a part inside this story,
The One that never should've been written,
One penned without permission.

Despite the death I still have breath,
And wonder how much of it remains.
The price of life has been deflated,
And like a cold machine,
I march to the trumpet of Control.

The deafening beat of unyielding hearts
Guide the soldier steps I take.
Into unknown territory I go forth,
Taking with me words of God
That if I read might turn me around.

For I am afraid of what is Truth.
Truth might tell me to reexamine or resist,
To face the undesireable odds.
To give in to the Soul's conscience,
And spit out the sour taste of cowardice.

But I remain conflicted with Confusion.
A traffic light screaming green and red.
My compass is covered with warnings,
Whispers to backtrack to where I started.
But I go ahead, I go ahead, I go ahead.

So here am I. Facing Truth dead into It's eyes.
The blood-red letters of GUILT
Are ribbons written into my back.
And I turn to wander off away,
Them holding on with all Their strength.

From Me To You.
Happy Birthday Bernadette.
I wish this day could be spent with you.
I miss you so much and
I love you with all of my heart.
I will be home soon.

Upon Reflection (2-14-04)

Reflection peers up at me and sighs
from waters wrinkled with Time
the coins cast forth into my Fountain
have sunk beneath It's surface
and so has fortune been taken from me.
down below the liquid smiles are rippled, imperfect
as if there is a missing piece inside myself
soiled tears are the nearest to sincerety
that i've ever really come before
and pain has been the river
that has washed me to Truth's shores.

a keen fascination with my desires
has left me a pile of burning debris
and in receiving sight of this
my soul is leveled to it's knees.
this cold clear water shows me Life
how it might be lived apart
seperate from this comfortable prison
from underneath the heavy dark.
everything owns a cruel contradiction to itself
and the spilling words of lips will be as food
so to cast aside the crown and forget myself
is perhaps the only solution i've ever understood.

and so Reflection senses my dilemma
from the wisdom in the water in my eyes
my vision is regained and my breath is lost
as the sense is knocked back into Life.
i stand to my feet, feeling a Presence near to me
and it is while i do that i finally know
i'm prepared to shed my skin, so i turn to leave
and from the Fountain Reflection whispers
"I am ready to go."

Beauty Surpassed.

i'm draining dry
from a cold collision
the catalyst i created.
a trigger is touched
pulled away from certain life
passing forward emotionless anger.
and at the bottom step
of my broken ladder down
lie scattered ashes of innocense.

inside the brain are unwashed ideas
unfinished sentences of reconsideration
to somehow prevent the metal from piercing skin.
but it is long too late
for the side of my head is painted red
and my own betrayal is my last supper.
i have murdered my self blindly
without pardon, my will to breathe in
is dead and gone and passed on.

now, as i lie down here
facing the underside of earth
the worms awake my consciousness.
but my swollen ivory lips cannot ask
the questions struggling to escape
these riddles that clog my still, cold mouth.
so i wonder in the silence what i've missed
what in the world has escaped my searching eyes
and why i refused to see all of the beauty.

In Memory Of Philly
The other day a friend of mine in Alpha Co. took his own life. Spc. Edward Barbazon (or Philly, as I knew him) committed suicide in the early morning of Tuesday March 9th, 2004. Perhaps the rigors of this terrible war finally got to him or the stress of being away from all that he loved back home finally set in...I don't know why he did it, and I won't speculate too much. But I do know that his memory will remain alive with me. I knew Butch best, not as a fellow soldier in my unit, but as the guy that got off work and who I'd see at the Coffee Scene hanging out an hour later. He would always come up to me (practically running into me) and slap me unreasonably hard on the back asking, "how the hell are you doin' Joe?!" He seemed to have a very short attention span and was extremely exciteable, but I think that was the appeal for most people that knew him. No matter if he was having a good day or a bad one, he'd end up in a great mood in no time. Yeah, that was Philly. Sometimes, when I'd see him coming my way I'd cringe because I knew that stinging smack on the back was coming and the conversation that was more of a loud yell would ensue. Of course for the most part I'm the quiet, silent-in-the-corner type. But he'd find my corner everytime! At other times, especially in one of my thoughtful ones where I'd be reading or writing something, I wished he would just go away and let me think. Well, now he is gone away. And I don't know what to think...

Between the Dust Storms

What you see behind these words (top page) is where I live. It is where I have lived for the last month and where I will be living for the next hundred days. I am currently deployed to Iraq, and perhaps this wasn't the best of times to begin a web page, but it gives me something to do when there is nothing else. Between the dust storms I come here to write what is inside my heart and on my mind. Hopefully you can receive something from each of these entries, but they are very personal and I will forewarn you, often depressing. The following entries will contain some of my latest poetry,writings, and thoughts. Thank you for reading.