8/6/2019 I Like War Chapbook
1/17
I Like War
By Allen Taylor
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/8/6/2019 I Like War Chapbook
2/17
It is well that war is so terrible. We should grow too fond of it.- Robert E. Lee
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/8/6/2019 I Like War Chapbook
3/17
Table of Contents
I Like War 1
Trapped 3
Music 4
Piano 5
Things I Wish Id Said 6
Love and War 7
Ceasefire 8
Gunfight in Manhattan 9
Six-Thousand Mile Dream 10
SSG Good Man 11
No Exit 12
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/8/6/2019 I Like War Chapbook
4/17
8/6/2019 I Like War Chapbook
5/17
I like war,
Yet
like all men,
I yearn to win back
that small part of me left home
by the hearth of my young dreams.
From knuckle to stone, from fist to fire;
Carthage to Baghdad, man to man:
If war is so damn good
then why does it drive me down?
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/http://www.rumsfeldssandbox.com/8/6/2019 I Like War Chapbook
6/17
Trapped
Ive got the freshest eyes in the universe
shooting from azimuth to back azimuthlike Greenwich overlooking magnetic north
Ive never been one to wander
but when morning sun creeps over
ziggurats Ill pound this desert for my exit
stretch for the eye of a needle
and know even I couldnt walk through
If I peer too deep into wadis
Ill forget my peaceful pastpush through this fight
into glory unsatisfied
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
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7/17
Music
When Satchmo played
In the early daysOf a time thats lost its youth
The rhythm of
Our God above
Shone bright as a golden tooth
The harpsichords
And ivory boards
In hearts harmony did play
With the six-stringed lass
The brazen brass
And a chorus from Calais
Tis sweet the Muse
Who lights the fuse
Of a melody made from tears
And on that noteId like to quote
A man wise beyond his years
Most folks go
Where nothing grows
With the music still inside
They never change
Or extend the range
And their song in silence hide
When Elvis played
In halcyon days
When refrains had lost their jazz
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
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8/17
We did the twist
Held stiff our wrists
And danced like a razzmatazz
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
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9/17
Piano
He closed his Wurlitzer
for the last time.
Ebony hands,
ivory teeth,
a hymn bequeathed
to a bride so fresh
her sheets will not press.
Lover, soldier, son:
alive now in memory,
his sullen eyes fall sharplike a half rest
through his mothers
imploding heart.
Tomorrow comes,
but not for any more love notes.
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
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10/17
8/6/2019 I Like War Chapbook
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Love and War
All is fair in love and war, they say;
but I am not so sure.When love hurts it does not kill.
When she maims
she leaves a little something in tact;
though hearts break they can mend.
Time heals all wounds
except those of war.
When the pain subsides a scar marks
both the body and the soul.
The greatest battlefield is the human heart,
moist, fallow and dry. Harvests
come and go like soldiers on the path,
but little is ever said of a lifetime.
Generals, privates, too, have their petty loves.
Warriors know the depth of loss,
of wanting to be free.
Let Chalabi live, they say;
so much depends on his breath.
But Patrick Henry may die.
And no one loves his country without injury.
Betrayal begins where love and war unite,
ends when bombs begin to fall.
Lend me your eyes, your ears,
your broken heart.
Trade your arsenal for peace.If war be like love and love be like war,
Give me love. Give me just and total love.
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
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12/17
Ceasefire
When nations search
for common groundwith arms and lungs and
eyelids closed,
leaving the past
to future generations,
they leave little room for doubt
and brush aside
A thousand promises
of peace
worthless as one act of war;
The face of one child
left hungry, lonely
or aghast
is more a stab in the heart
than a hundred kings
and potentates
with blood on their hands.
Tell the saints and the sinners,
the heretics and the martyrs,
lovers and warriors too,
that one God above them all
shall decide the fate
of the wicked and the just.
Today we gaze into the portal
and pray no more books are written
about losers and their dreams.
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
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13/17
Gunfight in Manhattan*
Every day I wake to small arms fire
Just a stone's throw away.
The crackle of .50 cals
boast of hidden talents,
remind me to breathe again.
When Ma Deuce
screams her nightly shrill,
she feels me up and then down again
with hands of magical steel,
pushes her way inside and lays her muzzlecold against my aching brain.
I forget who I am until hot flashes
Of lead remind me. Tonight,
Im going home,
where the sound of gunfire
means someone just had dinner.
In the Al Anbar province of Western Iraq, a small air base east of Ar Ramadi sits near the Euphrates River.
Soldiers and Marines stationed at the base ward off attacks from insurgents in the area daily. Allen Taylorwas stationed on the opposite side of the Main Supply Route on a base called Al Taqaddum. Manhattan is
the name given to the small air base by members of the military, who use it as a forward operating base, but
it is better known by its real name, Habbiniyah.
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
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14/17
Six-Thousand Mile Dream
It dawned on me last night:I havent seen the sun for days.
Wrapped up in maps of topographic
wallpaper, I ask the moon
for a hand in marriage; I am
obliged.
Every fucking night,
I beg the stars for sex.
I am starved.
At dusk, I treat
and retreat
my inner whore to a devils dose
of self flagellation,
hoping you will come.
I am a nervous wreck, wet
with desire I cannot fulfill,so I spill myself as if brimming
over the overfilled waste basket
like mayonnaise on soggy bread.
The prophets of Baal laugh in my face,
remind me of Elijahs irreverent
response. At noon, I sit
on the colonnade,
eat my lunch,
and pretend the demons
in my overactive mind
arent really there.
Deep down, where the flint
and the lead and the carbon mix,
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
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15/17
a spark splinters into a full-fledged
battle of flesh and spirit, but
at least I know Samson got a piece of ass.
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
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16/17
SSG Good Man
SSG Pilgrim is a good man,
But his neck is red.It is red in the way that my fathers is red,
With his mouth attached.
When he speaks, you sense youre conversing
With a mime locked in lungs,
Lips moving, hot air blowing uni-directional
And the sounds of vocal chords intoning
One thought that makes sense to no one
But its author. When I go to bed at night
I close my eyes and think about
All the ways I like a good man.
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished byRumsfeld's Sandbox
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17/17
No ExitHell is other people
- Jean Paul Sartre
Trapped. Wearing the same drab garb
Day after day. Scenery unchanged.
Prisoner of war
Enslaved to serve my own.
First, empire; then death by fire.
This hell has no windows,
No furniture, no third wheel.
Tomorrow, its the same old grind
And Im checking out.
Copyright 2008 by Allen TaylorPublished by Rumsfeld's Sandbox
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