New for Old
Pull down the old statues,
battle celebrations
glorifying war.
Melt them down,
make statutes
of protestors instead.
Flowers in her hair
above her smiling, defiant face,
flourishing a peace sign.
His head bandaged by a police baton,
fist thrust in the air
in solidarity with the people.
Forget these fresh molds
of youthful courage,
park them on the empty slabs.
by Contributing Poet Vern Fein Copyright © 2020
VWP 2020 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Editor's Comment: I am surprised by how timely this 50-year-old memory is. The best of us, the young military and the young idealists, continue to suffer. -MH
~
Patriotic Fervor - 1960's
Standing against the despicable Viet Nam War, lie-based, faking Bay of Tonkin, promoting Ky, (Madame Ky, monks BBQ themselves, ha ha) and Thieu, killing thousands of our soldiers (I went to college, not my best high school buddy, a son and one on the way, didn't make it, helicopter exploding…), millions of gooks, er ... Cong ... er ... citizens of a poor Asian country, Agent Orange backfired, destroying arable land, napalm and guava bomb maiming children, Me Lai, Lie,Lie, fomenting mass protest (at last!), lame saying not against the soldiers, but NOT against the soldiers - toke up - because they were caught in a larger version of the charge of the Light Brigade, call it the Heavy Brigade PTSD, a protestor myself, protected by school and middle-class status, marcher, speaker, breaker of windows on campus to counter-act blanket bombing, we were so ineffectual but Nixon lost sleep because of us and did we shorten the war at all like we thought?, and a Moratorium of millions but peace don’t stand a chance free-lovED stoned flower children so Bring the War home Weathermen and King and Cassius had the guts but we only gave a nod to Civil Rights cause we are kids of the ruling class and loving Cuba, we went there instead of vacation, and strikes at schools, like we shut down graduation at Columbia, man! and celebrities for and against and then most of the chicken-shit Congress who had been for the war until their constituents took to the streets but Hatfield knew, then Vietnamization ruse and bombs for Christmas presents from the Tricky one and, ignoble end, Vietnamese jumping off our ships and planes as we retreated in the first loss in U.S. history to stop Communism: NOTHING.
I was there for this then:
Two college seniors,
descending into the Hell of knowledge
down dark stairs
to find their draft status.
Joshing each other
long time good friends
covering nerves about the
RESULTS.
Your birthday got a chance
to determine your life again.
Low number - go.
High number - stay.
As direct as that.
I was behind them on the stairs,
heard their nervous joking,
turned the corner
to peek at the
BIG BOARD.
You got it!
One low, one high.
Unnatural scene.
Sometimes you don't know how to act.
Joy has to hide itself from sorrow.
One could not celebrate before the others' pain.
Survivor guilt.
My number was low; BUT
it was my 26th birthday.
In a few days
I was safe.
by Contributing Poet Vern Fein Copyright © 2017
VWP 2017 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Pull down the old statues,
battle celebrations
glorifying war.
Melt them down,
make statutes
of protestors instead.
Flowers in her hair
above her smiling, defiant face,
flourishing a peace sign.
His head bandaged by a police baton,
fist thrust in the air
in solidarity with the people.
Forget these fresh molds
of youthful courage,
park them on the empty slabs.
by Contributing Poet Vern Fein Copyright © 2020
VWP 2020 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Editor's Comment: I am surprised by how timely this 50-year-old memory is. The best of us, the young military and the young idealists, continue to suffer. -MH
~
Patriotic Fervor - 1960's
Standing against the despicable Viet Nam War, lie-based, faking Bay of Tonkin, promoting Ky, (Madame Ky, monks BBQ themselves, ha ha) and Thieu, killing thousands of our soldiers (I went to college, not my best high school buddy, a son and one on the way, didn't make it, helicopter exploding…), millions of gooks, er ... Cong ... er ... citizens of a poor Asian country, Agent Orange backfired, destroying arable land, napalm and guava bomb maiming children, Me Lai, Lie,Lie, fomenting mass protest (at last!), lame saying not against the soldiers, but NOT against the soldiers - toke up - because they were caught in a larger version of the charge of the Light Brigade, call it the Heavy Brigade PTSD, a protestor myself, protected by school and middle-class status, marcher, speaker, breaker of windows on campus to counter-act blanket bombing, we were so ineffectual but Nixon lost sleep because of us and did we shorten the war at all like we thought?, and a Moratorium of millions but peace don’t stand a chance free-lovED stoned flower children so Bring the War home Weathermen and King and Cassius had the guts but we only gave a nod to Civil Rights cause we are kids of the ruling class and loving Cuba, we went there instead of vacation, and strikes at schools, like we shut down graduation at Columbia, man! and celebrities for and against and then most of the chicken-shit Congress who had been for the war until their constituents took to the streets but Hatfield knew, then Vietnamization ruse and bombs for Christmas presents from the Tricky one and, ignoble end, Vietnamese jumping off our ships and planes as we retreated in the first loss in U.S. history to stop Communism: NOTHING.
I was there for this then:
Two college seniors,
descending into the Hell of knowledge
down dark stairs
to find their draft status.
Joshing each other
long time good friends
covering nerves about the
RESULTS.
Your birthday got a chance
to determine your life again.
Low number - go.
High number - stay.
As direct as that.
I was behind them on the stairs,
heard their nervous joking,
turned the corner
to peek at the
BIG BOARD.
You got it!
One low, one high.
Unnatural scene.
Sometimes you don't know how to act.
Joy has to hide itself from sorrow.
One could not celebrate before the others' pain.
Survivor guilt.
My number was low; BUT
it was my 26th birthday.
In a few days
I was safe.
by Contributing Poet Vern Fein Copyright © 2017
VWP 2017 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Bio: Vern Fein is a retired special education teacher. He has published over one hundred poems on over sixty sites, a few being: *82 Review, Bindweed Magazine, Gyroscope Review, Courtship of Winds, Broadkill Review, Monterey Poetry Review, and Corvus Review.
Heavy participation in the Viet Nam War protests drove Vern to write about the War. The Viet Nam War totally changed his life. A grad student prepared to teach literature at some college or University, his involvement in the radical Movement propelled him to drop out of school and spend his life teaching in a special education school and working to better his community, which he did by involving himself in a number of outreaches to benefit those in need.
https://www.vernfein.com/
Heavy participation in the Viet Nam War protests drove Vern to write about the War. The Viet Nam War totally changed his life. A grad student prepared to teach literature at some college or University, his involvement in the radical Movement propelled him to drop out of school and spend his life teaching in a special education school and working to better his community, which he did by involving himself in a number of outreaches to benefit those in need.
https://www.vernfein.com/
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