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Countless ideologies arise allies axis accord not in sight world combats queen and eagle is the weapon that beats back the boche
Sunset fades slowly from the sky. Massive blocks of polished stone list the nation's slain. "The Wall" looms stark and grim. An apologetic monument to men who died; in vain?
I'm an artist, and like most artists, I've got a story.
Mat Ga Trong, the Sun Goddess of Vietnam. Is now, the most popular girl at school. Her long black hair flowing freely against her back, Her eyes filled with a flaming passion,
I am a lotus, once grown in the dirty, filthy mud A flower that resonates with the sun and the northern mountains filled with flood I am a buffalo who is big, stubborn, dark-skinned, and slow
Keith explained a little, of his time in Vietnam, he said the weather outside reminded him of it. It was gloomy outside.
Being myself is so hard sometimes. I am a muslim woman. I am also a vietnamese woman. I am a bisexual Vietnamese muslim woman. I am part of the first generation in my family born outside of Vietnam.
My America is red; Cherry lemonade by the side of a pool In the summer of my childhood Lips stained with sugary popsicles and fresh watermelon. It is red like Coca Cola; The kind from glass bottles
Born down in a dead mans townThe first kick I took was when I hit the groundEnd up like a dog that's been beat too muchTill you spend half your life just covering up Born in the U.S.A., I was born in the U.S.A.
Long, fiery, Her scale glimmers through the waters, Rouge and yellow. She protects the land, forming long mazes, Left to Right. All who comes will fear her, for she is Long, fiery.
Vietnam my home away from home. The place where parents were born From the loud motorcycle's horn, To the vast street vendors across the town, To the dreams I discover in the fields of rice,
They say small numbers don't define you and they tell you that you can be whatever you want, disregarding the numbers but still, they ask "How tall are you?" They look at you, from head to toe, and always, they ask,
Followed by 'Forget about the war.' If only it was so easy. Events or news. Of some are seeking. A war with Iran. Brings back memories.
WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? Why did we killed in Vietnam? Why were we born? Just to die. And have our names.
MOTHER, Wake me From this nightmare. I been in this nightmare Since all those months. I spent with hunger, Death and fear As my companions.
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.
Put down the gun take off the helmet, unstrap the boots wipe off the blood. Halt the tanks, discard the missiles, write me back come home soon. Just end the war
Bang, bang You hear their shots being fired It's only a matter of time now Before the whole place is covered Your friend lies there in pain Will you soon be doing the same?
We're goin' out to war, they say, To fight the Vietcong. We're goin out to die today So we can get along. We're goin' out with honor, To search and to destroy,
Note: This poem was originally written for my band in which I play drums in. I became inspired to write it when I was bored in AP US History.
My Father survived the war of Laos,He was just a young boy then.He talks about his early life,Using a slingshot to take out game and mice.He would tell stories of when the soldiers arrived,And how afraid he was
What is war?
I dreamt. with the man who had been to Vietnam speaking at school over the book he wrote about war I knew you in your light gray ARMY shirt pulled over the potbelly, would be coming to visit
Escaping This bitter taste couldn’t be so sweet Trying to escape the reality of this place. We continue to fight through day and night In these terrible conditions
Black gabbro glints in the sun The thousands of names forever immortalized Or so it should seem Yet too easily it is forgotten The true toil of those who fought