poetry critical

online poetry workshop

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Welcome to Poetry Critical, an online poetry workshop. To post your own poetry you'll need to create a user id by typing a name and password in the box above and hitting 'New User'. If you just want to critique or jump into the discussion, however, you can go ahead and get started!

Random Poem:

Shit Hits the Fan

Shit Hits the Fan
what the fuck, over? It was Kyle, young Killer Kyle on the Prick-25 (Radio) his handle (Name) was Bayway-35. The wagon master (The guy heading the Convoy) is on the radio... Ambush!, first three trucks in line with goodies on board them have been hit. We called them (Shopping Bags) to confuse the Gooks.
Fucking confusion... Wagon Master to Bayway-35 click we got problems up here breaker 35. Well hell, this is right up Kyle's alley... bring em on, he thinks to himself. First things first, wake up! guardian angel, time to get on line. His weapon of choice this time is a M-60 belt-fed machine gun, bring those cans of ammo up here, there goes Kyle on a rampage.
Well three trucks are wasted there drivers we guess are dead, our first KIA'S (Killed in Action.) Well time to even up the score, Kyle heads right into the fire fight smoking his barrel on the M-60. Kyle remember short burst or you'll melt that barrel.
After he shot off a few cans of 7.62 ammo, it got quiet except for the battle rattle (People banging stuff around) He figured it was a hit and run set-up no more action, time now to take some ears. The troops found four dead and two badly wounded... Kyle knew what to do to someone in misery especially the NVA.
They all got together to salvage the trucks then push them off the road, Route 9 famous for ambushes. We always got our KIA'S out as soon as possible, a chopper bagged and grabbed them off to Graves Registration. We picked up their weapons and didn't leave anything of worth for the enemy rats that would come that night for their dead.
It was a priority to get to Cam Lo before twilight, it was one stop before Khe Sahn, damn near on the border with Lao's. Time for some beer one of the guys traded for a carton of cigarettes. Break out a case of C-Rations
with everyone going for the ones with fruit in them.
Now here is the get-go about our old C-Rations, they were basic meals, very basic... you had to be inventive to enjoy them, a little hot sauce and worcheshire sauce all stolen form the mess tent. No body wanted the Ham and Lima Beans we called them ham and mother fuckers, kinda crude no
slight on anyones mom, they were all important in many ways to us. And they served as a true link to the world and of course cookies , if we could get mail every once an awhile.
We set up guard and took turns watching over things around the entire area. The best place to rest was up on the canvass on the backs of the trucks there wasn't much rest with everyone on pins and needles.
The season was in our favor also the enemies... it was a nice evening breeze that was warm, to easy to fall out or sleep on your shift of guard etc. The days weren't to hot but they were very clear with blue skies, and enough sun to get you burned.
There was no kid in killer anymore
he was a stone chipped, by family,
the belt his dad wore undid the child
he stopped growing from the hell
inside out...
Let's move came the word over the prick-25, Bayway35-click saddle up Bayway35 to Wagon Master-click 10-4 your last with love.
Now this is what Kyle wanted for breakfast, the thick of it, breakfast of Champions, you can run but you will just be tired when you die! That
is what K.K. had in mind for Charlie... if he caused problems for the Wagon Master. Ten wheels and more hit Route 9 once again raising dust that Kyle would wear the rest of the way to Khe Sanh.

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