I Like War Chapbook

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    I Like War

    By Allen Taylor

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    It is well that war is so terrible. We should grow too fond of it.- Robert E. Lee

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    Table of Contents

    I Like War 1

    Trapped 3

    Music 4

    Piano 5

    Things I Wish Id Said 6

    Love and War 7

    Ceasefire 8

    Gunfight in Manhattan 9

    Six-Thousand Mile Dream 10

    SSG Good Man 11

    No Exit 12

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    I like war,

    Yet

    like all men,

    I yearn to win back

    that small part of me left home

    by the hearth of my young dreams.

    From knuckle to stone, from fist to fire;

    Carthage to Baghdad, man to man:

    If war is so damn good

    then why does it drive me down?

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    Trapped

    Ive got the freshest eyes in the universe

    shooting from azimuth to back azimuthlike Greenwich overlooking magnetic north

    Ive never been one to wander

    but when morning sun creeps over

    ziggurats Ill pound this desert for my exit

    stretch for the eye of a needle

    and know even I couldnt walk through

    If I peer too deep into wadis

    Ill forget my peaceful pastpush through this fight

    into glory unsatisfied

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    Music

    When Satchmo played

    In the early daysOf a time thats lost its youth

    The rhythm of

    Our God above

    Shone bright as a golden tooth

    The harpsichords

    And ivory boards

    In hearts harmony did play

    With the six-stringed lass

    The brazen brass

    And a chorus from Calais

    Tis sweet the Muse

    Who lights the fuse

    Of a melody made from tears

    And on that noteId like to quote

    A man wise beyond his years

    Most folks go

    Where nothing grows

    With the music still inside

    They never change

    Or extend the range

    And their song in silence hide

    When Elvis played

    In halcyon days

    When refrains had lost their jazz

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    We did the twist

    Held stiff our wrists

    And danced like a razzmatazz

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    Piano

    He closed his Wurlitzer

    for the last time.

    Ebony hands,

    ivory teeth,

    a hymn bequeathed

    to a bride so fresh

    her sheets will not press.

    Lover, soldier, son:

    alive now in memory,

    his sullen eyes fall sharplike a half rest

    through his mothers

    imploding heart.

    Tomorrow comes,

    but not for any more love notes.

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    Love and War

    All is fair in love and war, they say;

    but I am not so sure.When love hurts it does not kill.

    When she maims

    she leaves a little something in tact;

    though hearts break they can mend.

    Time heals all wounds

    except those of war.

    When the pain subsides a scar marks

    both the body and the soul.

    The greatest battlefield is the human heart,

    moist, fallow and dry. Harvests

    come and go like soldiers on the path,

    but little is ever said of a lifetime.

    Generals, privates, too, have their petty loves.

    Warriors know the depth of loss,

    of wanting to be free.

    Let Chalabi live, they say;

    so much depends on his breath.

    But Patrick Henry may die.

    And no one loves his country without injury.

    Betrayal begins where love and war unite,

    ends when bombs begin to fall.

    Lend me your eyes, your ears,

    your broken heart.

    Trade your arsenal for peace.If war be like love and love be like war,

    Give me love. Give me just and total love.

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    Ceasefire

    When nations search

    for common groundwith arms and lungs and

    eyelids closed,

    leaving the past

    to future generations,

    they leave little room for doubt

    and brush aside

    A thousand promises

    of peace

    worthless as one act of war;

    The face of one child

    left hungry, lonely

    or aghast

    is more a stab in the heart

    than a hundred kings

    and potentates

    with blood on their hands.

    Tell the saints and the sinners,

    the heretics and the martyrs,

    lovers and warriors too,

    that one God above them all

    shall decide the fate

    of the wicked and the just.

    Today we gaze into the portal

    and pray no more books are written

    about losers and their dreams.

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    Gunfight in Manhattan*

    Every day I wake to small arms fire

    Just a stone's throw away.

    The crackle of .50 cals

    boast of hidden talents,

    remind me to breathe again.

    When Ma Deuce

    screams her nightly shrill,

    she feels me up and then down again

    with hands of magical steel,

    pushes her way inside and lays her muzzlecold against my aching brain.

    I forget who I am until hot flashes

    Of lead remind me. Tonight,

    Im going home,

    where the sound of gunfire

    means someone just had dinner.

    In the Al Anbar province of Western Iraq, a small air base east of Ar Ramadi sits near the Euphrates River.

    Soldiers and Marines stationed at the base ward off attacks from insurgents in the area daily. Allen Taylorwas stationed on the opposite side of the Main Supply Route on a base called Al Taqaddum. Manhattan is

    the name given to the small air base by members of the military, who use it as a forward operating base, but

    it is better known by its real name, Habbiniyah.

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    Six-Thousand Mile Dream

    It dawned on me last night:I havent seen the sun for days.

    Wrapped up in maps of topographic

    wallpaper, I ask the moon

    for a hand in marriage; I am

    obliged.

    Every fucking night,

    I beg the stars for sex.

    I am starved.

    At dusk, I treat

    and retreat

    my inner whore to a devils dose

    of self flagellation,

    hoping you will come.

    I am a nervous wreck, wet

    with desire I cannot fulfill,so I spill myself as if brimming

    over the overfilled waste basket

    like mayonnaise on soggy bread.

    The prophets of Baal laugh in my face,

    remind me of Elijahs irreverent

    response. At noon, I sit

    on the colonnade,

    eat my lunch,

    and pretend the demons

    in my overactive mind

    arent really there.

    Deep down, where the flint

    and the lead and the carbon mix,

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    a spark splinters into a full-fledged

    battle of flesh and spirit, but

    at least I know Samson got a piece of ass.

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    SSG Good Man

    SSG Pilgrim is a good man,

    But his neck is red.It is red in the way that my fathers is red,

    With his mouth attached.

    When he speaks, you sense youre conversing

    With a mime locked in lungs,

    Lips moving, hot air blowing uni-directional

    And the sounds of vocal chords intoning

    One thought that makes sense to no one

    But its author. When I go to bed at night

    I close my eyes and think about

    All the ways I like a good man.

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/
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    No ExitHell is other people

    - Jean Paul Sartre

    Trapped. Wearing the same drab garb

    Day after day. Scenery unchanged.

    Prisoner of war

    Enslaved to serve my own.

    First, empire; then death by fire.

    This hell has no windows,

    No furniture, no third wheel.

    Tomorrow, its the same old grind

    And Im checking out.

    Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished by Rumsfeld's Sandbox

    http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/