I’ve Had Enough

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I’ve had enough
Of the criminals getting media spotlight
Crying that the cops were too harsh
But I can’t let my family go out at night
People would be a lot more polite, I’m sure
If we brought back duels at dawn
I’m turning into a grumpy old white man
Now, get the fuck off my lawn

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I Don’t Want To Live In Their World

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I don’t want to live in their world
Their vision of a society filled with hate
Families shot in the streets; senseless
While Washington’s rhetoric still disseminates
I don’t want to share this world with them
We owe it to our children to forever reject
The ballots filled with criminals & egomaniacs
Guide the future, before the bullies can eternally infect

Home. It Isn’t Some Abstract Concept

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Home. It isn’t some abstract concept
It is the loving embrace & happy tears
To return to the only ones who matter
A sigh of relief, time to expel all fear
The safety of my family’s precious arms
Another deployment forevermore sealed
I’m present; allowing us to move forward
& soon enough those pains will be healed

Watching The Sun Rise Over Norge Hills

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Watching the sun rise over Norge hills
Waiting for nature to gently overspill
These are special days, even if we don’t see
Reality collapsing into itself; the only place we can be
Still quiet homes with subdued families at rest
Admiring the calm while it’s still at its best

Southern California Made Us Promises

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Southern California made us promises
That no one could possibly make
The beach & the beauty
All revealed to be restlessly fake
But I know of a callow truth
Of heritage & the shore of Bodega Bay
Of family & the love we can’t forget
Perhaps I’ll make it back some sunny day

Thousand Yard Stare

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It was dark out on the flight deck. The stars and moon not visable tonight. The hum of the Diesel engines mixed with the lapping of the waves. The rest of the guys were inside playing cards. He was sitting on a bullnose, where the mooring lines enter the ship.

He was dirty. The overall grime of shipboard life had taken its toll on his uniform, exposed flesh and general psyche. At this point of the deployment, his blue ‘digital’ camouflage pants were were out of regulations. They had rips, paint splatter and grease stains. No one gave him flack about it. There was no time to focus on those aspects or the means to replace uniforms. It was not important at this point. There was a mission at hand. The priorities were to do your job correctly the first time. Crisp new uniforms would not help you succeed out here. There is a feeling among sailors that those who had time to polish their boots did not have a real job. Admin types and supply personnel usually were the ones with nice looking boots.
“Smitty, you okay man?”
“I’m cool”
“You got that 1,000 yard stare going.”
“Naw, I’m just thinking. I’m fucking tired man”
“Me too.”
“I just want to go home. This shit sucks.”
“I know, I don’t even want to get off the boat in port.”
“Right? Let’s just go back, cut all this short.”
“Wish we could, man. You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. I’m cool. I’m gonna go to bed soon.”
“All right man, don’t be grabbing chains and jumping off the side.” They both smiled. “We’re laughing, but seriously. It’s not that bad. We’ll be home soon enough.”
“I know, thanks man.”
They went their separate ways. Smitty returned his gaze back out on the water.
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