"Flag of OUR Fathers"

Ok, I was invited to see the movie "Flags of OUR Fathers" with me friend Debbie tonight, WOW. My favorite all time war movies were Patton and the Great Escape, I think this one is now on that list. If there is any truth at all other then the rising of the flag on Iwo Jima not one but two times, which I did know about, then shame once again on our Nations Elected Officials. What Fucking Assholes they were then what some are still now, plain down right and out idiots. I learned of Ira Hayes from a Johnny Cash song, (below). I learned tonight of the others who raised OUR Flag and that those who died on the Battle Fields were the heroes and those who lived wanted it to be known that way, they did not want to be recognized as heroes when so many of their brothers made the ultimate sacrifice in the name of FREEDOM. After seeing the movie I had thoughts of wondering if Jessica Lynch was really a pawn in the war. If you have seen it, what's your thoughts?

Ira Hayes, Ira Hayes
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian
Nor the Marine that went to war
Gather round me people there's a story I would tell
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
From the land of the Pima Indian
A proud and noble band
Who farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land
Down the ditches for a thousand years
The water grew Ira's peoples' crops
Till the white man stole the water rights
And the sparklin' water stopped
Now Ira's folks were hungry
And their land grew crops of weeds
When war came, Ira volunteered
And forgot the white man's greed
Two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again
And when the fight was over
And when Old Glory raised
Among the men who held it high Was the Indian, Ira Hayes
Ira returned a hero
Celebrated through the land
He was wined and speeched and honored;
Everybody shook his hand
But he was just a Pima Indian
No water, no crops, no chance
At home nobody cared what Ira'd done
And when did the Indians dance
Then Ira started drinkin' hard;
Jail was often his home
They'd let him raise the flag
and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone!
He died drunk one mornin'
Alone in the land he fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch
Was a grave for Ira Hayes
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian
Nor the Marine that went to war
Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes
But his land is just as dry
And his ghost is lyin' thirsty
In the ditch where Ira died

Again this is dedicated to my Uncle's who fought in WW2 and Korea, Jerry, Ernie, Johnny, Joe, Frank and Norm (Purple Heart) and to Ira.

PEACE and Thank You......

Your Last Good Friend

You say it was this morning
when you last saw
your good friend
Lyin' on the pavement
with a misery on his brain
Stoned on some new potion
he found upon the wall
Of some unholy bathroom
in some ungodly hall
He only had a dollar
to live on 'til next Monday
But he spent it on some comfort
for his mind
Did you say you think he's blind?
Someone should call his parents,
a sister or a brother
And they'll come to take him
back home on a bus
But he'll always be a problem
to his poor and puzzled mother
Yeah he'll always
be another one of us
He said he wanted Heaven
but prayin' was too slow
So he bought a one way ticket
on an airline made of snow
Did you say you saw your good friend flyin' low?
Flyin' low, Dyin' slow

To those who have battled, fought and won over their demonds, time to fly high again.

It's Never Too Late - John Kay, 1972

Your eyes are moist, you scream and shout As though you were a man possessed
From deep inside comes rushing forth
All the anguish you suppressed
Up on your wall hangs your degree
Your parents craved so much for you
And though you're trained to make your mark
You still don't quite know what to do
It's never too late to start all over again
To love the people who caused the pain
And help them learn your name
It's never too late to start all over again
Well, it's much to late to start again
To try and find a little bliss
So on your woman and your child
You release your bitterness
You drift apart some more each day
You feel the guilt and loneliness
And the God of your childhood you can't find
To save you from your emptiness
It's never too late to start all over again
To love the people you caused the pain
And help them learn your name
It's never too late to start all over again
You say you've only got one life to live
And when your dead your gone
Your family comes to your grave
And with tears in their eyes
They tell you, you did something wrong
"You left us alone"
Tell me who's to say after all is done
And you're finally gone, you won't be back again
You can find a way to change today
You don't have to wait 'til then

What's going on?

After spending time with me close friends, it's time to get creative once again. I was spending to much time looking for what is not yet there. Although the journey was a true learning experience, with no regrets. It's time to go back behind the wall that I had let crumble. So, no more match.com. I have learned that during the times the wall was up I was at my best. Still giving but in my own way, not the way others wanted. So in the near future the Dawson Family Learning Center Photo project will be completed, the Memorial Garden will begin to blossom, The 07 Law & Order Golf Tournament & Ride for Life befitting the Baltimore Child Abuse Center will become bigger and better. The first of four books that I want to write should be completed by December (it's an insight photo book, they say a picture is worth a 1000 words so we shall see), maybe two will be done by then. The book "Baltimore a Monumental City" is coming along, where over 100 images have been shot and the research has begun into the over 120 memorials and monuments in the city dating back to 1816. Strangely the forth book is the first one I had the idea for, back in 01 after 9/11 I came up with the idea to compile a book entitled "what America faces". It was to be an image book showing all of us as American's, those who speak, dress and look different but are still as one.Then the idea came to mind to write about what we face as American's, I always have said that I'm not a writer but a story teller. The stories already have been written they just need to be told. So if there is anyone who would like to share their story then please let me know and let the pages begin to be turned. With the holidays coming upon us quickly and not sure what to buy that someone who has it all, how about spending a day feeding the homeless, dropping off some unworn clothes to a shelter, helping out or getting involved with the Baltimore Child Abuse Center or TurnAround Inc.. Here's a new one to think about if you are looking for a charity to give something back to. It's call Stand Up for Kids Baltimore, they are looking for volunteers to help out by talking to kids on the streets, hand out care packages, help with fund raisers, check them out at www.baltimore@standupforkids.org As we former hippies still say: Peace and thanks to those who are making my lifes journey well worth it.

Just Like Jesus

With these feet of mine...
I'll walk the distance -
To be near,
so you know no fear
and by your side,
with out resistance. -
With these legs of mine...
I'll travel through time -
As a memory in your mind.-
With these hands of mine...
I'll build the foundation -
For you to stand on,
this My fathers creation.
With these arms of mine...
I'll embrace you -
For the warmth of Love,
That will grace you.
With this back of mine...
I'll bear the weight -
That others will create.
With this mouth of mine...
I'll speak the word -
For you to say I have heard.
With these eyes on mine...
I'll guide you -
Through the dark of night
into mornings light.
With these ears of mine...
I'll listen to the words you say -
No matter what the time of day.
With this HEART of mine...
I'll give my LOVE -
That was given to me,
From him above.
With this Body of mine...
That they have taken -
My Soul left behind,
Not to be forsaken.
As I stand beside you,
I ask what now do you need me to do.

The walls we build

My Wall...

As he gathered the gravel
And poured the water
Mixing by hand
The concrete mortar

Stone by Stone
And Brick by Brick
Built thin as well as Thick

The wall of exclusion
The wall of pain
The wall of emptiness
The wall of sorrow
The wall of loneliness

Shovel and Trowel
Hour by Hour
Rises higher and Higher
To erase the Sun
Sheltered Behind
As the only One

The wall he Built
To hear I'm Sorry
Of others Guilt

Stone by Stone
And brick by Brick
Carried across this Land
Stands behind a Wall
A giving Man.