There's a room 
Where memories, 
Of what I became, 
In Vietnam. 
Just to survive, 
Are stored,
They're locked tight,
And not to be opened.
No one has seen. 
This side of my being.
He is in a place.
That nobody 
Can find.
These memories 
Are part. 
Of my Soul.
Which will never 
Quite heal.
When despair 
Smothers all.
When my memory 
War poetry 
Gives voice. 
To my SOUL!
To soar 
To the Heavens above.
~ Ricardo
This poem is about: 
My country
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 


MillRatUSMC aka Ricardo

Times, I think writing my thoughts about my service in Vietnam.

Is a way of coping and to tell what it really was in that war.

I did not protest that war.

Because it would denigrate my service.

And the service of many who were killed-in-action.

Yet, I don't hate those that did protest.

In fact a Marine of World War II.

William Ojala.

Wrote a Bill that would make it illegal.

To draft men from his home State of MN.

People are surprise that we get along.

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