Showing posts with label Russell Streur. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Russell Streur. Show all posts

July 12, 2010

EXIT STRATEGY/SUICIDE OF AN AMERICAN PRIVATE FIRST CLASS

MOSUL, Iraq - A soldier from the 2nd Infantry Division died from a non-combat related shooting here yesterday. The incident is under investigation. (Centcom news release)


Gung ho

Flag and anthem

Through the flames

Army strong


Shoot first

Ask questions later

Then the bayonet

he said


Blood the desert takes the sand will not return


No exit from the RPG

No exit from the mortar round

No exit from the roadside bomb

No exit from the helicopter crash


Blood the desert takes the sand will not release


No exit from the Tigris River

No exit from the green canal

No exit from the Shat Al Hillah

No exit from the drowning pool


Blood the desert takes the sand will not replace


No way out of Umm Qasr

No way out of Tall Afar

No way off Haditha Dam

No way out of Balad Ruz


No exit from the water


Blood the desert takes the sand will not reprieve


No exit from the sky


No way home to Eagle Pass

No way home to Santa Fe

No way home to Baton Rouge

No way home to Seven Hills


Blood the desert takes the sand will not release


No way out of Abu Hanifa Mosque

No way out of Taraniyat Square

No way out of the corner café.

No way out of Hotel Mount Lebanon


Blood the desert takes the sand will not replace


No exit from the sniper scope

No exit from the rifle sight

No exit from the bullet hole

No exit from the body bag


Blood the desert takes the sand will not return.


And looking down the pistol barrel

Saw St. Barbara

Clothed in swallows and veil

Waiting at the gate across the river with welcoming arms


Kept his eyes on her

And pulled the trigger.


by Russell Streur



*http://thecamelsaloon.blogspot.com/

June 10, 2010

Custer’s Last Stand

by Russell Streur


It rains in Vietnam

It rains in Iraq

It rains in Afghanistan

And election year 1876

George Armstrong Custer calculated

A couple hundred dead Sioux on the Plains

Would be about enough

For a four year lease

On the White House

And so with

Red white and blue

Guidon

With crossed swords flying

And American bugle

Blowing

Splashed a fine June morning

With his 7th cavalry and his wolverines

Across the Little Big Horn

Where a couple thousand Sioux on the other side

Voted with their arrows through his balls

Whereupon George

Earned his name of Yellow Hair

By putting a bullet through his brain

Leaving his troops and dogs to die

One by one

Eyes torn out

Noses cut off

Gutted

Fingers torn off

Penises sliced off

Feet severed

And other hanging chads

Of a body count

Tough to sum

Including the heart

Of his brother Tom

Which

Rain in the Face

Cut out

Had a taste

Spit out

And threw away.

“Sheep,” said Rain,

“The soldiers went down

Like sheep.”

April 27, 2010

DEMENTIA BUS

by Russell Streur

Saint Hedwig prays
Bare knees in snow
Washes the feet of lepers
Sleeps on the ground
And it’s a normal afternoon
In the dead of winter
With the bells of her church
Ringing every hour
On Humboldt Avenue
Wednesday when
Rhonda steps off the Dementia Bus
And takes her usual seat
In the palest of sunlight at Annie’s Place.
I have always wanted,she says, to turn my body into shrapnel
and knock on the doors of heaven with the skulls of my enemies.
So tossing back
One last suicide belt
She detonates herself,
Naming that tune:
Happy Hour,
On Real Cold Ice.