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The Journey
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A fellow Vietnam Veteran Antonio K. Taylor, is working on an excellent book about his experiences as a combat soldier. The following are a few of the poems from his forthcoming book, which will be published by Net4TruthUSA.
 
POINT
© Copyright 2005 - from "The Journey" by Antonio K. Taylor
(posted here with permission)
You had to be a little crazy
To like walking point,
Because walking point was an acquired taste,
Like cobra venom.
Concentration on high,
Head swiveling
As eyes take in everything.
Nerves of steel,
But still on edge.
Listening for the slightest sound,
Feeling for the most infinitesimal disruption
In the way of things.
Searching for clues from nature
Like birds gone quiet, or south.
Mosquitoes suddenly gone looking
For safer targets.
A wave of emotion sweeping over you
When there should be no emotion at all.
Stopping every few feet,
Waiting for the world to come back
Into Focus.
Because tunnel-vision will get you killed,
And you must remember,
That there are others whose lives depend
On your skill,
And their fate is in your hands.
Every part of you must be open and receptive,
Or you will miss something…
Something right on the periphery of your consciousness.
And your life,
And those who depend on you,
Will be payment.
Eighteen months of this,
And I am still in one piece.
But am I still me?
Happy Valley
© Copyright 2005 - from "The Journey" by Antonio K. Taylor
(posted here with permission)
The fighting is finally over.
The hill is covered with smoke, fog,
Blood, knee-deep mud
And fallen trees.
As I start down the hill,
I adjust the living weight on my shoulders,
And keep my eye focused straight ahead.
Of the laughing, joking, forty-four of the day before.
I alone am left standing.
All their dreams and desires are forgotten
In the insanity called Happy Valley.
As I reach midpoint, someone runs to me
With arms outstretched
To take my burden from me,
But I angrily shake him off;
This burden is mine.
When I reach the bottom of the hill
And come to the edge of the valley
I lay him down as gently as possible,
As though not to wake him.
I turn and look back up the hill,
And wonder how I ever made it to this day.
All the emotions I have had to keep reined in
Finally come washing over me,
Like the heat of Vietnam at first light.
Sitting down,
Because I am too tired to stand,
And too angry to sleep,
I open a package left behind for me by my best friend,
Who lays by my side.
As I open this small bundle,
I can feel myself collapsing inside,
And my eyes start to mist over.
I am looking at the saddest cupcake I have ever seen;
A candle bent over in the middle.
My friend had remembered something
That I had forgotten.
I am nineteen today.
Slowly I eat the cupcake.
It is stale… and wonderful.
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