G.M. Soldier (Still Fighting That War Within 'E') Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

In the middle of you
that one night
when your center was off
you drank of the blood
of your men and friends.
For a moment, you could think
that if I bust and ran
that I would be able to forget
all that I heard and had seen.
Under that harvest then
you did taste
the flesh and blood of the squad
which was numbered five
but just as it began
all died and did in the end
an affair which overhead
and by 'SPOOKY' was brief
and in mouth, tongue,
and on cheek
your soul fed on the meat
of the four in your group
who did not make it
and you felt relief in your side
where the hot metal rested
as you moved fingers
up to your mouth
and the jungle fire
burned the flesh of the men
from your side
who in death gave you
the manna of fighting
and kept a life in you alive.
Slowly you sucked down
the flesh of your friends
and their blood and brains
became one within you
now your soul has grown
and with that growth
you truly know
killing anyone
is never that much fun
pass it on my friend,
to anyone with hope
left and right,
all will listen
to you and your tired soul.