Monday, May 31, 2010

Goodbye baby, I hope to see you again.

In honor of Memorial Day I dedicate today's post to all veterans and active members of the military. Both of my grandfathers served in WWII, my great grandfather in WWI, my cousin in Iraq, and my best bud during peacetime. All share one thing in common along with everyone else that has ever served this country: sacrifice. Those who gave their lives: ultimate sacrifice. I don't glorify or condone war or violence but I do however understand it as somewhat of a "necessary evil" and I respect those people who were/are willing to give what they've got to defend Truth. Even if their government isn't always a practitioner of Truth the concept of it and everything it represents never changes.

The track today is a cover of The Valadiers - "Greetings (This Is Uncle Sam)" done superbly by The Monitors. I happen to think this song is pure genius. An amazing take on the love ballad. The "Hut. Two, three, four" vocal harmonies are ridiculously creative as well as the drill sergent chewing someone out. Even though it seems like just a pop song it expresses sacrifice, something that anyone that has served the country experienced. I apologize in advance for the pops in the beginning, they go away after a bit.

Also I leave you with one of my favorite war/war memorial poems:

"Facing It" by Yusef Komunyakaa

My black face fades,
hiding inside the black granite.
I said I wouldn't,
dammit: No tears.
I'm stone. I'm flesh.
My clouded reflection eyes me
like a bird of prey, the profile of night
slanted against morning. I turn
this way--the stone lets me go.
I turn that way--I'm inside
the Vietnam Veterans Memorial
again, depending on the light
to make a difference.
I go down the 58,022 names,
half-expecting to find
my own in letters like smoke.
I touch the name Andrew Johnson;
I see the booby trap's white flash.
Names shimmer on a woman's blouse
but when she walks away
the names stay on the wall.
Brushstrokes flash, a red bird's
wings cutting across my stare.
The sky. A plane in the sky.
A white vet's image floats
closer to me, then his pale eyes
look through mine. I'm a window.
He's lost his right arm
inside the stone. In the black mirror
a woman's trying to erase names:
No, she's brushing a boy's hair.

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