It is Cut and dried.

Old words still mean the same.

                    It is cut and dried.

Old man sitting at the Old Fox tavern.
Drinking his rum and coke and rolling a Silver Star in his hand.
The Silver Star given for killing many in untrue wars.
He knew the Army appeased him with this token keepsake.
He put the medal on the table.
Drinking down the last sip.
He ordered another rum and coke.

I sat with my father.
He give me a smile of welcome and ordered me a beer.
He was only forty.  His anger driven him to kill often in the civilian world.
He pay his due in prison for manslaughter in self-defense.

He told me.
"it cut and dried son. A old Ojibwa/Mexican had no chance.
I was a residual of a man who only skill was to kill for a government who
consume the poor youth for the profit of war. I have toil for many years.
People looked at me with fear. I was a imperfect beast create by poverty and war."

I had joined the military like my father.
I was a poor kid with no place to go.

I saw the struggle and disappointment in his eyes.
War is fought by the poor people for the rich man gain.

My father smile and told me. "No benefit to swim in old thoughts.
Disgrace memories are the curse of a silver man. I need more rum my son.
I was bold and daring once. I volunteered for war. I killed many in the Korean war.
Left brother in unmarked graves forgotten. It is okay son. Cut and dried son, there is no good
ending for a drunk Indian with no place to go."

I sat many night waiting for my father to request to go home.
I learn later. Many men from the Vietnam and Korean war era tried to drink themselves to death.

There are many murals of men who fought and died together.
Men who were serenaded song of war and glory by a heartless government.
I believe many more died at home than the battlefield.
Agent orange and the chaos of war cursed their vision to focus on real life.

My father told me often. " Don't allow anyone to look down at you. Get education and show
the world you are their equal and more. Too many had died for you to accept s**t from anyone."

In the end. My father was killed by the booze and the memory of war.
I drink the long Island ice teas and I roll my father's silver stars.
I pray he found peace in death.
     Coyote

Author's Note

My father died in 1996 in September. He come into my thoughts and dreams to remind me. I must ensure my kids have a fair chance.

Reviews

[GIUSEPPE]

Coyote you are a fine storyteller! The subject doesn't seem to matter you write with and transfer great emotion to your reader. This was a very poignant poem and oh so true. About a year and a half ago my brother-in-law passed away far too young from lymphoma caused, we suspect, by agent orange. The government he served and died for would never recognize the true cause! I feel for you, your dad, my brother-in-law's family, and all those so wronged by senseless wars and self serving governments. Thank you for a terrific write!
GIUSEPPE

[Coyote Poetry]

War take the best from us. Sending young people in their youth is the greatest sin of this government. Thank you for reading and the comment.

[Enid Blake]

It is melancholy, how you pad out that bigger picture of war and how it is fought on long beyond the battlefields. The readers left with that feeling of 'its all wrong' - well this reader was.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Enid for reading and the comment. Real life can leave us with stories to tell.

[Ren Black]

This is very moving and painfully sad to read. A poem telling a story is a wonderful combination. Very well written.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for reading the comment.

[Pryde Foltz]

Thank you for this profound and personal write, Coyote. It tears me up in side to think that a fellow human being felt he had so little meaning. You poem is a testament to the unending worth he had in reality. Really, special write this. Thank you.

[Coyote Poetry]

He was a good man. Fear nothing. Thank you for reading and the comment.

[An owl on the moon]

A beautiful, bittersweet recollection of your father... such a tender, painful vision, I realize. May your heart only ever rise for you and your dear ones as well.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for reading and the comment. In September I remember my father often. I lost him in September 1996.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

In the end, my father was killed by the booze and the memory of war. -- this line made my heart catch in my throat.

Powerful stuff here, my friend; so poignant and real in every way. You show amazing strength of character in your writing, and this piece is no exception. We must always do what we can to learn from the past and make a better future. Your heart shines in the prayers that you said for your father to find peace...well done.

[Coyote Poetry]

I hope he did. He did get lucky at the end. He marry a rich lady who took care of him. Thank you for reading and the comment.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

the memory of war causes addictions that lasts long after the nightmare of being involved in the conflict..."war is fought by the poor for the rich man's gain"

exactly!@

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Jacob for reading and the comment. No winner in war.

[francis]

I feel for you my friend.But the problem is the war seems unending if we don't fight what will be of us.

[Coyote Poetry]

When President Clinton was the President. USA had a time of peace. I was send on four water, food and medicine missions to Africa and Asia. We open new doors of friendship. Hard to stop internal conflicts. When rich countries sell weapon used for slaughter in other places. Should they be held responsible too? If killing is a accepted cure. No-one will win till we are all dead. I'm tire of war. Poor woman and children pay for the sin and violence of men desiring war. Thank you for reading and the comment.

[Mark]

Yes, the cycle needs breaking. For all of us. Tired of war, of hearing slogans about preserving freedom. All they do is kill to preserve the rich corporation's profits.

Namaste my friend.

[Coyote Poetry]

Last year. Big business made the most profit ever. I tell people. Country led by rich men will ensure the wealthy get more wealthy and the poor will pay with their back and sweat. Thank you for reading and the comment.

[shallimarRose]

John this is so thought provoking and well written. My father was never in the military. I can rarely remember him sober and He died an alcoholic. I pray he found peace too coyote and that we also fid peace somehow in the good memories not the bad.. Your poem touched me so into my favorites it goes.. xo Rose

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Shalimar. The old days men drank and died young. Ain't no better today. We learn by the example of our elders. I was lucky. A good woman slowed me down. Thank you for reading and the comment.

[shallimarRose]

Daddy died in 67 he was 44 years young.. xo