A Liberal Dose of Sand From the Beach

Four-Four-Twenty-Oh-Four

2010-04-05T16:40:00.000-07:00

Four-Four-Twenty-Oh-Four

This is the time of year
when spring arrives and trees leaf out
the grass begins to grow and blossoms open
and the yard needs attention and I want to be outside
enjoying the pleasant weather after a hard winter
and I’d rather not spend time at my computer
writing poems and stories about war
and then I remember…

You weren’t in Kansas anymore
on four-four-twenty-oh-four..

Sometimes I feel a chill
running up and down along my spine
remembering those numbers did you harm
and all the flowers look back at me and understand
I have to go inside and try to write some words
from my heart on an otherwise empty page
it is the very least I can do for you
and then I remember…

You were twenty-four years old
on four-four-twenty-oh-four…

I stare at the keyboard
dust and the sound of gunshots rise
before my frightened eyes when you depart
in an overcrowded truck, so tight no one can move
and the driver heads toward Sadr City with you
and a group of other soldiers like sardines
crushed together, arms at your sides
and then I remember…

There were at least twenty-four
on four-four-twenty-oh-four…

My fingers grow weak
as I start to think of what it was like
to head into a pitched battle already raging
in that overheated and embittered Baghdad slum
your arms at your side unable to raise the gun
as snipers took cheap shots from a rooftop
and that bullet hit your collarbone
and then I remember…

That bullet severed your spine
on four-four-twenty-oh-four…

You slid down silently
among standing soldiers to the floor
knowing that you were paralyzed forever
before anyone else knew and the medics swore
to do their very best to save the rest of you
and give you some kind of future
and then I remember…

That you’ve never ever given up
since four-four-twenty-oh-four…

So I begin to write again
because you were and always are
my most important source of inspiration
as well as a real hero and a friend I won’t forget
no matter what happens far off in the future
and even when we met in Chicago
and then I remember…

I should never be silent anymore
about four-four-twenty-oh-four.

_ _ _ _ _

Written for my friend, Tomas Vincent Young
and all the many casualties of the Iraq War.
Four-four-twenty-oh-four

will forever be the bloodiest day of the war

Twenty Ten came in...

2010-01-25T14:02:00.000-08:00

Twenty Ten came in quietly at the beach without much fanfare. Unlike some previous New Years Eves, we heard very few fireworks celebrating the start of a new year and a decade as well. The fact that it was windy and raining probably put a damper on most celebrations around here.

I wish I could be more optomistic, like we would all arise on the morning of 1/1/10 to a brand new beginning. Instead the same problems arise with us as usual: war drums and actual wars, ever more unemployment, grinding poverty, drug abuse, and a vast population concerned mostly with just getting by. And how could anyone blame the general public for not paying close attention to everything going on around them when our leaders seem to take the attitude... "we would rather not listen to the people who elected us because we know better than they do."

Ok - Enough of my internal discomfort in print. I made a vow not to sit and stare at the ceiling all winter like I did a few years ago... and here I've almost talked myself into doing just that.

Maybe this will change my mood and yours as well:

Cranberry Sky

Night is come, another cloudy day is done
stormy skies of rain and wind are gone
across the coast to eastern slopes of quiet hills
to dance among the mist in emerald wilderness
beneath one single precious promise
in an endless universe.

Some trillion billion ancient points of light
adorn a silent night amid a tarnished sky
spinning far and wide sweeping dregs of gray
obscure the Sun, a glowing star of average size
circling on a sure and certain course
to warm a stormy earth.

Behold a brilliant canvas; one touch reveals
blessed gifts for those who pause to gaze
beyond dark shuttered eyes and lives indoors
wipe away a dreary day of gray in life restored
as spirits spent rush home amid a flash
of fiery cranberry sky.

Peace, Mary Ann

Poet on the Edge of the Back of Beyond...

2009-12-14T09:01:00.000-08:00

December 14, 2009

“Poet on the Edge of the Back of Beyond” is a collection of poems, short stories and photographs of life along the shoreline of the Pacific coast. The author journeys along with the reader leaving colorful tidbits of local knowledge throughout, gleaned from years of experience enjoying the ambiance of nature. Poet on the Edge of the Back of Beyond is now available on Amazon.com. For more information about the book or to order a copy, please Click Here .

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About the Author:

Mary Ann Schallert is a poet and short story writer originally from Astoria, Oregon.

This compilation of thoughtful poetry and short stories is inspired by living and working on the Pacific Coast from Oregon to Alaska. As Mary Ann describes, snapshots of life lived along the shoreline.

An avid sailor, she explored waterways along the coast as time and work allowed, enjoying the ambiance of harbors and small towns along the way. She lived aboard the trawler, Miramar, on San Francisco Bay and Puget Sound. Later on she brought the Islander Freeport ketch, Solitude, up the west coast from San Diego. Washington’s San Juan Islands and the waters of southern British Columbia became a favorite cruising paradise.

In the early spring of 1994, Mary Ann and her family traveled up the Inside Passage aboard their sailboat, Solitude. She describes the twenty-eight day voyage as the experience of a lifetime. Along the way they explored every nook and cranny, village and inlet that seemed promising. This became a marvelous set of memories drenched in sunshine and showers, filled to the brim with waterfalls and rainbows.

Although planned as a summer trip to meet friends on another boat to explore northern waters, they found Ketchikan so friendly and inviting they settled down in Alaska for over fourteen years. She and her family kept up their boating lifestyle; fishing and exploring coves and inlets from Dixon Entrance to the northern tip of Prince of Wales Island, as well as more adventurous trips to interior Alaska from time to time.

Mary Ann and her family relocated to Ocean Shores, Washington in 2007. She continues to enjoy the outdoors along the Pacific Coast, photographing and writing of the many wonders she finds around every bend in the road.

Mary Ann is a regular contributor to GotPoetry.com under her poet name “maryanns”.

When the wind blows...

2009-12-08T16:38:00.000-08:00

When the wind blows right through downtown Ocean Shores I always wonder how the IGA still has enough shopping carts for all of us. I imagine all the shiny blue carts running east toward Duck Lake, perhaps some of them peeling off into the trees to hide in thickets before they go off a bank and get dunked.

The wind blows hard at the IGA... why do I buy groceries on windy days? The answer is...
it blows harder in town than it does out at our house. I don't realize how windy it is in town until it's too late.

Today was still - a great day to buy groceries, except... it was twenty-two degrees. Bright sunshine without a breath of warmth, the canal froze... mallards swam right up to the icy edge and stopped short. Eventually they disappeared back the way they came. I suspect mallards have no use for ice or very cold sunny days.

--------------------------------------------

When the Wind Blows

An eerie twilight falls, I step outside
quietly observing hazy shapes
grazing in the yard…

soft brown bodies browse among the weeds
stripping green from waving moss and leaves
moving in the midst of swaying willow trees
some prance and dance among themselves
then some begin to scent a changing breeze.

Strong gusts of wind sweep leaves
across my sandy tennis shoes
leaving empty space…

concern descends in breaths of salt and surf
cascading off the tossing tops in drizzle drops
of streaming rain that chills them to the bone
then hazy grazing shades of brown move on
as shadows blend into a murky underground.

Lost in isolation beneath the eaves
chilled and shivering in silence
my apparitions vanish…

in twisted brush through tangled overgrowth
to sticky thickets choked in purple berry bush
entangled vines that wind and twine beneath
chilly hooves of wilted ghosts in velvet coats
with gentle violet eyes that glisten in the mist.

My mind is overwhelmed by shadows
blending in and out of busy lives
banished in the haze.

Everyone stay warm now.

Peace, Mary Ann

Autumn on the coast...

2009-11-28T09:38:00.000-08:00

Autumn has arrived on the Pacific coast with a flourish of blustery storms and downpours.

I am making a valiant effort to experience the beauty of the season in brightly colored trees and fallen leaves. Yet steel gray skies and rain intrude on my psyche. I yearn to write of endings instead of cheerful copper creations peeking out among the hemlock.

I sense myself turning into a hermit. I seldom leave my six mile long by two mile wide sand spit out on the coast ... Autumn draws me inward.

Before I go down the rabbit hole entirely, I offer readers a brief respite:

Pantomime

She’s changing clothes, shifting wilted camisoles
thrown off exposing youthful skin and bone.
Her fashion once concealed bare naked innocence
revealed among her neighbors stately forms.

She’s blushed and flushed though still she stands
desire to fade and hide rooted to the ground.
Her laundry list is deep discarded at her chilly feet
showers wet her crown, shivering she frowns.

She’s safely kept her shapely place amid the rest
never spread nor shed a seedling underneath.
Her pose is spare though purposeful in due respect
can’t a limb react to shield her from neglect?

She’s numb with frost, turned to inward thoughts
of careless growth in showy summer frocks.
Her brittle frozen skin begins to sense a tiny brush
of clever sister cedar’s gentle warming touch.

I offer you one more quick glimpse of the beauty of south-central Washington from my rainy rearview mirror:

Oh, Take My Picture Please

Dreamland settles in around the bend,
I pass through upland hills as fall expands
among a wonderland of gleaming gems.
Skipping beats, my eager heart stands still;
indeed my eyes deny the glimpse I see
of autumn clothed in gold amid the green.

A treasure trove of shiny copper coin,
alight in graduated beams of warming sun
on glowing statues cast in gilded bronze.
Fairies in our midst; my imagination twists
and turns in swirls to revel in them all.
Bright red maples blaze beside a waterfall.

A drive in dreams I want to never end.
I slow as passing strangers leave the scene
they may have never even known before.
Along my way a mix of yellow hued arrays
of wily willows caught in passion plays
escape cascades of blushing poplar leaves.

Visions fade away as rural roads divide
to shoo us through with scalding overdrive.
One parting burst survives; cherry limbs
wave gaily in a crèche of concrete medians
sweet sugar kisses dancing on a breeze
flying after me. Oh, take my picture please.

Ok - Readers cannot say they haven't been warned. My next post may arrive from among slimy rocks and roots shivering below ground. Perhaps we should migrate, strive to follow the sun to the southern hemisphere.

For those who share my malady, stay strong! Don't let "Seattle gray" get you down.

Letter From IVAW...

2009-11-04T12:54:00.000-08:00

Letter from Seth Manzel,

Iraq Veterans Against the War Board of Directors

Dear Friends,

Since the election of Obama the public perception has been that the wars are winding down and that the objectives of the peace movement are now being embodied in the Administration's policies. A common myth that is being perpetuated by the media is that we are preparing to withdraw from Iraq.

These lies that Americans are telling themselves may make them feel better about the Obama Administration, but they are of little consequence to the Soldiers who are being deployed at a rate not seen since the surge. The lies mean nothing to the families left behind by soldiers going to spend a year deployed in the most dangerous period of the conflict yet. They mean even less to the widows who will never see their partners again.

We have forgotten the people of Iraq who have to live under the corrupt and dangerous puppet government that Obama is supporting, and we are all to quick to look the other way at the dead bodies piling up in Afghanistan and Pakistan.

Iraq Veterans Against the War has not forgotten these things and we are one of the few groups out there who are still speaking out on these issues. One only needs to open major publications like the New York Times, The Army Times or the Stars and Stripes to see that we are getting the word out.

But we aren't just talking about the problems. Recently, IVAW sent a delegation to Iraq to help bolster Iraqi oil unions fighting back against corrupt and exploitive oil companies. Our members were participating in direct action in the latest round of G20 protests. Some members are actively involved in pressuring politicians to end these ruinous conflicts.

IVAW needs your support to continue our work. Without continuing help from the Peace Community we could not continue our work. Please, become a sustaining donor for IVAW and help us bring about an end to these wars by clicking on this link

https://org2.democracyinaction.org/o/5966/t/7584/shop/custom.jsp?donate_page_KEY=1131.

Thank you for your support,
Seth Manzel, IVAW Board of Directors

P.S.
Please repost this and spread it far and wide. Your help is appreciated.

On Obama's Nobel Peace Prize...

2009-10-09T12:00:00.000-07:00

I, for one, have not given up
on him earning his place in history
but trust and patience is wearing thin.

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

Carousel

Earth spins on an axis of horses
transformed into clouds on the wind
hearts pounding and screaming in voices
that tremble in terror and pain.

as the animals cry
as our carousel dies
it turns on its side
it rolls and it flips
the calliope tilts
the music dissolves
in chattels of gold
in pieces and parts
as riders fly off
as dust drifts aloft
it trembles and sparks
it grinds to a halt…

Peace spins on an axis of promise
transformed into clouds on the wind
dues pounding and screaming in voices
the audacity of hope never paid.

When Obama gets our service members out of Iraq and Afghanistan he will have earned the admiration of a grateful nation as well as any Nobel Prize or other treasure that may be showered upon him. When... that is the trillion dollar question.

Peace, Mary Ann

Afghanistan...

2009-08-19T13:50:00.000-07:00

As US sponsored candidates vie for election in Afghanistan, the Afghani people walk away disinterested in foreigners re-designing parts of Kabul just to disguise the abject failure of US foreign policy and any form of democracy ever taking hold. Yeah, hand-picked President Karzai... hopes pinned on a man who fled his country and only returned to sit on a throne in Kabul backed by US special interests.

The Obama administration seems to have taken pages from the Bush/Cheney playbook, re-invent the wheel, ignore historic local culture, make millions off their big shiny war machine. Never mind the sacrifice in lives of Afghan civilians and NATO soldiers... Good grief, I can still hear Dick Cheney's voice... "they're all volunteers, who cares."

Time for change, the change we were promised.

Kandahar Airstrip - Afghanistan

Stranded on sweltering tarmac
long tan lines standing on asphalt
scorched occupied landscapes
worn parade of dug in boots
scuffed souls ready for transport.

Journalists on melting tarmac
noncombatants snap photographs
shattered spinning landscapes
sandstorms seek viewfinders
Pulitzer prize ready for transport.

Aircraft on smoldering tarmac
red hot waves of engines wind up
slipstreams sweep landscapes
resolute warriors turn away
gritty statues ready for transport.

Unloaded on miserable tarmac
flag draped stretchers end conflict
final journeys join landscapes
pain consumes dug in boots
duty remains; ready for transport.

Inspired by reports from
Helmand Provence on 8/14/09
by Lara Logan of CBS News.

Spring Symbiosis.....

2009-05-16T11:51:00.000-07:00

Spring has finally reached the Washington Coast... it has been a long time coming this year. Each sunny day the creatures and I would wish for more, sun that is. We'd receive instead little fronts blowing in off the Pacific, dumping copious amounts of rain to prepare our fields for wildflowers later on. Today, May 16th just feels right. I keep my fingrs crossed... somewhat awkward but oh so necessary in these parts.

Symbiosis

Spring at the beach.
American bald eagles nest
in spruce trees down the street.
Tall patient sentinels
with thick dark branches,
spruce welcome all occupants.
Chattering squirrels nest
here, and the ultimate
high rise tenant is comfortable;
adult bald eagles
occupying the penthouse.
The full symbiotic relationship
in a canopied environment
fulfilling every need.
Healthy spruce cones and seeds
readily available
for busy, hungry squirrel
and you know who for the eagle.
Intelligent design, indeed;
or evolutionary need.

Enjoy your beautiful day, kite flyers and surfers. Spring must be here to stay.

Thoughts on the G-20 Summit.....

2009-04-01T13:14:00.000-07:00

As world leaders meet in London, I'd love to be there to greet them properly. Not with accolades, more like with rotten tomatoes and eggs... Don't ever let them kid you that us little guys screwed up. The economic meltdown comes from far above our paygrade.

Fuzzy Economics

Fuzzy economics! Talking about trillions makes no sense
to people like us. How come our pension’s spent
before we even get it. We all thought
we’d earned it. Dedicated funds not subject to arbitration
then smart guys on Wall Street invested it wrong
and now we have to pay. Wake up…
give me a break. Our contract said the guaranteed amount
doesn’t change until we die. Should we all depart
in haste because you say? Deceit…
I watch tv…so what’s our country coming to? The idiot’s
are running the asylum. The guy from the NYFed
is now on the Obama team. That rat.
Why didn’t he do his part before? He got hired to regulate
Wall Street. He looks more like the problem to me.
Another all talk and no answers guy.
His resume includes AIG’s bailout, whooppee! Rewarded
him with a promotion. What kind of system moves
shyster losers to the top. What a crock.
Forget AIG’s 218 million, what about those multi-billions
being doled out to Bank of America? Obscene sums
those stupid tv pundits never mention.
Did you see that B of A bought Countrywide? The crooks
who started the fraud? Their mortgage loans took
the US system down. Touché’, busted.
B of A just wants to be first in line to fleece the new genius
they hired; gleaning freebies at taxpayers expense.
Good grief! I’d rather trust my mattress.

Stimulous package my ass... Tell the US Congress to get a grip.
Stop the wars and put the crooked exec's in jail. And by the way
get your hand out of the till. Amen.
Happy April, folks.

Personal Hell.....

2009-03-11T11:50:00.001-07:00

Cut-backs, well you know the economic situation. So apparently one of the first things to go in Seattle was open shelters on Sundays. Yeah, lets all support our veterans, blah - blah - blah. Anyone have a clue about how many Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans are living homeless lives? How many veterans commit suicide on a daily basis in the US? Does anyone even care? Sure, you've got that yellow ribbon stuck to your Lexus... geez, what a deal. Thanks, America, I served my country for 24 years and it's come to this. Carry on.

Personal Hell

Darkness falls and the cold comes
creeping frost and slimy socks
that crawl between your toes.
Men sit on slabs of chill concrete
underneath the highway bridge
with one eye out for police.

Seattle’s mayor is cracking down
there’s too many hungry freaks
hanging out in his city now.
Wet winter weather, snow and rain
men lost in the constant gray
it kicks their ass and brain.

Old worn out blankets sopping wet
used garbage bags with holes
can’t chase away the drumming noise
pounding in their souls.
That donated box of apples spoiled
these men can’t live on apples
in ragged jeans and wet sweatshirts
with faded tie-dyed dreams
drawn on rotting clothes.

Disgusting smells float up the river
down the hill beneath the bridge.
Crazy laughter; toilet water.
Coughing fits wrench greasy tears
and one more swig of wine
to chase away the fear.
Don’t annoy our city folk, groaning
and slobbering on graying beards
far from health and home.

Headaches, sticky arm pits itching;
hearts gone missing years ago.
Thoughts of hell, city jail.
Noses running; their voices slurred
as they stay alive with strength,
just hanging tough or else.
Animals notice you growing weak;
pay attention or by next sunrise
you’ll be found deceased.

Sleep with one eye open, the Army
taught you that. Watch your step,
and killing folks on rooftops,
targets without a second thought.
But tomorrow’s bound to be a bitch
in the snow on Seattle streets
with nothing much to eat.
Our shelters are closed on Sundays
city folks can play in peace.

Six Facts About Non-violence.....

2009-02-14T12:36:00.000-08:00

Adapted from Peace to All Beings, by Judy Carman (Lantern Books, 2003).

From his deep studies of Gandhi and his own experience, Martin Luther King Jr. developed a list of six facts to help people understand non-violent resistance and join with him in his vision.

King's words are as insightful and thought provoking today as they were when he wrote them:

1. Non-violent resistance is not for cowards. It is not a quiet, passive acceptance of evil. One is passive and non-violent physically, but very active spiritually, always seeking ways to persuade the opponent of advantages to the way of love, cooperation, and peace.

2. The goal is not to defeat or humiliate the opponent but rather to win him or her over to understanding new ways to create cooperation and community.

3. The non-violent resister attacks the forces of evil, not the people who are engaged in injustice. As King said in Montgomery, "We are out to defeat injustice and not white persons who may be unjust."

4. The non-violent resister accepts suffering without retaliating; accepts violence, but never commits it. Gandhi said, "Rivers of blood may have to flow before we gain our freedom, but it must be our blood." Gandhi and King both understood that suffering by activists had the mysterious power of converting opponents who would otherwise refuse to listen.

5. In non-violent resistance, one learns to avoid physical violence toward others and also learns to love the opponents with "agape" or unconditional love–which is love given not for what one will receive in return, but for the sake of love alone. It is God flowing through the human heart. Agape is ahimsa. "Along the way of life, someone must have sense enough and morality enough to cut off the chain of hate," said King.

6. Non-violent resistance is based on the belief that the universe is just. There is God or a creative force that is moving us toward universal love and wholeness continually. Therefore, all our work for justice will bear fruit - the fruit of love, peace, and justice for all beings everywhere."

A New Year In The Holy Land.....

2008-12-30T14:59:00.000-08:00

Will nothing ever change?

Please read this beautiful poem written by Daniel Patrick Welch in 2007. Ask yourself, how can we stand idly by and watch the destruction of the Palestinian people by the army of Isreal?

O Bethlehem - A Christmas Carol for the 21st Century

by Daniel Patrick Welch

O Bethlehem O Bethlehem
The stars look down on thee
As Nazareth reaps grief and death
From mountain, plain and sea
O Bethlehem a world bedecked
In season's peace and joy
Will still sit by as children die
And walls your heart destroy

O Bethlehem O Bethlehem
The prophets surely frown
A land in pain, a land in chains
As Abraham looks down
O Bethlehem your children sleep
In fear of tanks and guns
Do Moses, Christ, Mohammed weep
As we betray their sons?

O Bethlehem we seek that day
When Christmas bells ring true
When liberty and dignity
Belong at last to you
Can Bethlehem forgive a world
So callous and profane
And bring to pass a world at last
Where peace and justice reign?

© 2007 Daniel Patrick Welch. Reprint permission granted with credit and link to http://danielpwelch.com

A Christmas Poem From a Friend.....

2008-12-22T15:27:00.000-08:00

Bah! Humbug

By Mark Legge

Ebenezer Schrooge.

The Avaricious Archtype

Subconscious Prophet to countless souls Devoid of Charity.

Overwhelmed with their pregnant pangs of self indulgency.

Can I ask? What does Christmas mean to you?

Is it not a time for reflection?

Not only of those images that touch and stir the soul,

but contemplation of that which resides within.

Is it not a time to give something of ourselves to those less fortunate?

A time for the spreading of Goodwill, Peace and Harmony.

This Christmas,

as you teeter on the threshold of further festive forage

will you falter?

Will you take a solitary moment to suppress those soaring surges of glee and

spare a thought.

Spare a thought for the sick, the frail and the ailing,

will you lend yourself to each of these that shall not survive this day.

Spare a thought for the cowering defenseless child

who's feeble outstreached quivering hands will fail to stem the savage blows.

Spare a thought for the feral child, forsaken by fate, eking an existence midst the putrefying

piles of human decay.

Will you spare a thought? Will you?

Will you gaze into the imploring eyes of those swolen infants,

too weak to suckle the soothing substance that has long since run dry.

For their desperation dwindles

as does crave for merest grain.

Spare a thought for the lonely, the isolated, the brokenhearted,

for they yearn the faintest semblance of all those yesterdays.

The subdued

the subjected

the ravaged

ridiculed.

The maimed

the molested

the tortured

tormented

the self inflicting

the plagued

or for those who've simply lost their way

or just can not take any more.

This Christmas

Will you give something of yourself to those that are in need?

Or will yours be

"Bah! Humbug"

Mark Legge is a poet from Lichfield, England. More of Mark's poems can be found on http://www.gotpoetry.com/. (under his poet name "leggolas")

Merry Christmas to all, and may we have Peace on Earth. Mary Ann

I V A W's Matthis Chiroux, Iraq war resister....

2008-11-28T20:14:00.000-08:00

In a press conference held in the Cannon House Office Building in May, 2008, Matthis read a statement that said, in part:

“As an Army journalist whose job it was to collect and filter service members’ stories, I heard many stomach-churning testimonies of the horrors and crimes taking place in Iraq. For fear of retaliation from the military, I failed to report these crimes, but never again will I allow fear to silence me. “Never again will I fail to stand. … This occupation is unconstitutional and illegal, and I hereby lawfully refuse to participate, as I will surely be a party to war crimes. …”

According to Department of Defense policy, the Army can recall soldiers for up to four years after their active-duty service. If Matthis refuses to report to duty in June, Nathan Banks, spokesman for the Pentagon, said Matthis could be listed as absent without official leave (AWOL) and could possibly face arrest.

His father, Rob Chiroux, said he is worried about his son’s future if he doesn’t return to the Army. He realizes his son could stand to lose everything he has gained in his military career: college funding, veteran health benefits — even his honorable discharge status. Rob Chiroux was quick to add, however, that no matter what his son decides on June 15 — to serve again or to fight reactivation into the Army — he stands firmly behind his son’s decision. “I support my son 100 percent,” Rob Chiroux said. “I would support him if he chose to go back to Iraq, and I’d worry about him every day.”

Following his announcement, Matthis Chiroux said he felt at peace. “I don’t fear any prosecution,” Matthis Chiroux said. “There may be repercussions, and I’m ready to face them.”

Matthis enlisted in the Army days after graduating from high school. During his five-year enlistment, Matthis served as a journalist in the Army, with tours in Germany, Japan, Afghanistan and the Philippines. While serving in Afghanistan and Palawan, Philippines, Matthis experienced hostile environments fighting against Islamic insurgents.

After receiving the Army’s orders to deploy to Iraq, Matthis was depressed, confining himself inside his New York apartment, he said. He reflected on his values and his views of the Iraq War. “There was just no way I could carry a weapon, go to Iraq and not be part of the problem,” Matthis said by telephone Thursday, referring to the Iraq War, which, he said, he has opposed from the start.

Rob Chiroux, a Navy veteran and self-described conservative who voted for George W. Bush twice, said he is having second thoughts about the Iraq War. “He feels strongly that this is wrong, and I feel strongly that this is wrong,” Rob Chiroux said, regarding the Army’s orders to have his son return to active duty.

Taking a stand against issues was something Rob Chiroux and his son often talked about when Matthis was growing up, especially when the topic turned to politics. Rob Chiroux would sometimes tell his son, “If you want to change the system, you’re going to have to take a stand.”
____ ____ ____

I met Matthis Chiroux in Minneapolis during the VFP/IVAW convention. He is a thoughtful, intelligent and courageous young man who deserves our support. Matthis has worked tirelessly for the principles we in IVAW stand for: US troops out of Iraq, reparations for the Iraqi people, medical care for returning troops, including mental health care for PTSD, so desperately needed by over 300,000 service members. Please keep Matthis in your hearts and prayers. Mary Ann

Free Robin Long, US Political Prisoner.....

2008-11-12T16:21:00.000-08:00

My fellow member of Iraq Veterans Against the War, Robin Long, is in prison…he was treated differently than any other war resister who has been prosecuted for not deploying to Iraq. Many patriotic people stood up for Robin and testified at his trial, they made their case that the Iraq war is illegal under our constitution and that Robin had every right as a conscientious objector to say no to his orders. But the judge in his court martial took the opportunity of his trial to try and send a very harsh message to other soldiers. Robin received a fifteen month prison sentence and a bad conduct discharge.

Disparity? Yes, others were either not prosecuted at all or received six month or less prison time for exactly the same charged offense. Robin has been treated unfairly by the military judicial system. I truly believe Robin is a United States Political Prisoner. I wrote this piece for Robin. I hope everyone will sign the petition, lets send Robin back home to his family…. the sooner the better.

Political Prisoner

It always breaks my heart to hear his name
Robin Long, an example he was made
to frighten conscientious objectors
into keeping quiet and staying in the game.

Robin was always up front about his status
he refused his orders to wage war in Iraq
he told the truth to his superiors
then Robin and his family moved to Canada.

The Canadian government didn’t see the fact
that Robin objected to war itself as relevant
the Canadian people supported Robin
their government in its wisdom threw him out.

So Robin was arrested at the Peace Arch gate
tried and then convicted by an Army court
in Colorado they threw the book at him
fifteen months in prison for opposition to hate.

US political prisoner Robin Long is my hero
this solitary man, in prison for saying no
to a war of greed for oil and souls
we can all make this right, help Robin go home.

“Free Robin Long, US Political Prisoner”
Please sign the petition: “Free Robin Long”

http://www.thepetitionsite.com/1/free-robin-long

Thanks for your support of IVAW member Robin Long.

Peace, Mary Ann

Published in “Members Speak” at www.ivaw.org 11/10/08
Published on http://www.gotpoetry.com/ 11/12/08

OK, We have a President Elect......

2008-11-07T08:59:00.000-08:00

Breathe, assemble thoughts, begin writing again....... I had no idea of the emotions and the energy draining fear that would consume me on election night. Thank God for Lisa, Kirsten and the others who sustained me and kept me somewhat focused throughout the evening. Avoided a meltdown, I did. Happiness, relief, pride; our system worked this time. I hope Tomas was able to be in that Chicago crowd... please keep getting better, Tomas. I was thinking of you as PA and OH went blue.

Now, back to reality. The Iraq war will not stop itself. Powerful men still hold the strings, even control our new new administration. A bucket of cold water hit me when the first appointment was of an Isreali Lobby middle-east war hawk... Rahm Emanual. Ok, I understand, debts need to be paid, no one gets elected in this country without incurring debts. "Feet to the fire", Barack. We will hold you to your promises to us. The lives of our military personnel depend on keeping our promises to them. No free lunch, I am not a party hack - I see the darkness and the light and I do not forget my obligations.

Writing.... I just about ran out of poems to post on Gotpoetry! I did not realize all my energies were being absorbed by worry and writing long emails to my good friends in Australia and England. Perhaps I should just post the emails. Naw, I'd better get to work. Meanwhile, I did write one topical piece I just posted on GP. I do believe I'll post it here, too.

Come Together

I want to know why we can’t all come together.
Just as Americans, why don’t we just get over
the red versus blue, now that the election’s done.
Get on with it; we have problems to overcome.
And one more thing I’d like to see….

No more mention of the “Black President” thing.
Sure, it was interesting…..but it’s all over now.
I’m not going to want to listen to that forever.
Just get over it and move on.
He’s Our President….. please let him do his job.

People are wondering about us around the world,
we looked like we’re still fighting the civil war.
I don’t blame them, I saw those TV maps before.
What would you think if you lived in Timbuktu?
Yeah, that’s what I thought; and I’m just like you.

I want to know why we can’t all come together.
The Beatles wrote the song a long time ago, brother.

Today is Friday. I must get my sign ready for the vigil in Aberdeen in heavy rain. Boy, that sign has been though a lot and still looks pretty good. Elma, WA on the 11th, Veteran's Day... the parade..... with Veterans for Peace, Fred, Mary and maybe Janice. Maybe my IVAW brothers will come too.

Thanks to everyone who sustained me and put up with my rollercoaster moods these past months. Whew, breathe.

Catching up...............

2008-10-13T10:36:00.000-07:00

So I've been around the country a mile or two since I last posted here. Intentionally, I left up the post regarding my friend Tomas Young, as I traveled to Minneapolis for the Veterans for Peace and Iraq Veterans Against the War conventions. By all rights, he should have been there, too. It was a wonderful experience, meeting so many amazing patriots dedicated to the basic task: get our troops out of Iraq, they do not belong there risking life and limb for oil.

I was able to visit Tomas in Chicago at the Rehab Institute, to talk with him and show support. His spirit, courage and sense of humor are intact, his progress amazing. He will be back out there with us in the fight, no denying that. Tomas Young is the most courageous and focused individual I have ever known. My thanks to Tomas, his mom Cathy and Erik Lobo for welcoming me.

Back home, back to working the corner of Wishkah and "F" in Aberdeen every Friday afternoon with the lovely ladies of "Grays Harbor Grannies".... a total pleasure! We notice so much increased support from the passers by as the realities of the failed Bush Administration hit close to home. Almost election time, time for a change for sure. Trickle Down has never worked, apparently good things only trickle up in conservative economics.

Election day looms...... a very big deal! Our future is at stake. Will America set a new course, return to the values we expect? Or will the lies and inequities espoused by the conservatives continue to whittle away at our democracy? It's up to us to make sure this election isn't stolen by the powerful few who twist and turn the truth to their advantage. Stand up, America, poke 'um in the eye, elect the man who speaks the truth......Barack Obama, our next President.

On a local note, we in Ocean Shores are again faced with defending the beautiful Weatherwax rain foret property from greedy developers. I leave you with these thoughts:

Weatherwax

Beautiful and serene
So wonderful and green
Like heaven in the spring
Piece of nature always new
Rainforest here for all to view
Place of refuge for wildlife too
It must be saved for me and you
Not be developed just for the few
Please see the beauty for yourself
I know you will agree it’s selfish
For some to want to break it up
Cart off our forest in a truck
Scare all the birds and such
There’s land a plenty here
For developer’s so dear
So, save our treasure
Weatherwax is here
To live forever.

Another local battle against greed, trying to save an
ancient rain forest within the City of Ocean Shores, WA.
My poem was published in the North Coast News on 8-20-08

Peace, brothers and sisters, Mary Ann

Tomas Young. Please continue to remember him in prayer......

2008-08-11T08:38:00.000-07:00

A MOTHER OF AN IRAQ VET SPEAKS OUT...Not One More Day….. Not One More Dime….. Not One More Life…... Not One More Lie! End the Occupation! Bring the Troops Home Now! And Take Care of Them When They Get Here! (martyonthehomefront@blogspot.com)

UPDATE on the courageous severely disabled Iraq War Vet Tomas Young:

IVAW member Tomas Young has moved to a rehab hospital in Chicago. He is excited to get started with rehab. Tomas is the subject of the documentary Body of War and the curator of the album Body of War Music. His contributions to IVAW are numerous. We send him and his family our best wishes in this difficult time.Tomas Young and his family welcome correspondence. You can now write them at: Rehab Institute of Chicago (or "R.I.C.)
Patient, Tomas Young, 345 E. Superior Street, Chicago, Il. 60611

For Tomas.............

Wish You Were Here By Pink Floyd (Roger Waters, 1975)

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

Comments 8-10-08 (2)

Mary Ann http://www.844mas@gmail.com said...
Thank you, Marty, for your kindness to my fellow IVAW member. His voice is sincerely missed by those like me who continue to speak out. Every mention of his name is treasured, an essential encouragement to remind us all that we must not give up either. Mary Ann
7:34 PM

martyonthehomefront@blogspot.com said...
You are so very welcome Mary Ann.When I first started blogging it was for my own sanity. But now, my sole purpose is to share your voices with all who pass by here. Thank you for having the courage to speak out. As this war drags on your tribe will increase. Together, we will end this.
8:26 PM

When………………..?

Stories in the North Coast News........

2008-08-07T09:35:00.000-07:00

On Wednesdays I receive my wonderful copy of the North Coast News in my mailbox. There is always interesting reading in there. I quickly turn to the "Letters to the Editor" where locals vent to the max, and to the "On the Record" section, the police logs. Our new editor is trying to get the local population to quit defaming each other in the paper, so the Letters to the Editor section will probably be bland for awhile. But the police logs always have a few hilarious snippets. Here are some from the August 6th paper:

Local Police Log:

July 24

Traffic hazard
Pt. Brown Avenue, NW
9:08 am
Someone put bubbles in the fountain
at the gates of town. Caller thinks
motorcyclists will slip on the bubbles.

July 26

Disorderly conduct
Damon Road, NW
6:10 am
Request contact with a party in the
restaurant. Male running around
stark naked.

July 27

Trespassing
North Wynoochee Drive, SW
1:07 am
Subjects are setting up camp in the
front yard of a residence, without
the owner's permission.

Information report
Pt. Brown Avenue, NE
5:12 pm
Request check on Galway Bay
Restaurant sign. It now says anus
instead of angus.

Animal problem
Beach, North of Jetty
5:05 pm
Caller reports dead body of a
goat wearing a red collar, there
on the beach.

County Sheriff's Log

July 18

Intoxicated persons
State Route 109
1:10 pm
Caller reports eight intoxicated
subjects walking down the
highway carrying a lot of beer.

My goodness, this is a terrible crime wave. What ever will we do here at the beach where it used to be so safe and quiet! Perhaps we will have to restart that neighborhood watch that used to be so active. I'll be sure to read the next issue........riveting!

Here in our little community......

2008-08-05T21:10:00.000-07:00

I live in a very small beach community with a population of around 5,000 on a good day. Crime is pretty nonexistent here, except for the occasional domestic dispute or drunkeness that gets out of hand from time to time. So you can imagine how surprised I was to become the unwitting victim of a petty crime. As I prepared to do my usual Monday afternoon demonstration at the four-way stop, I parked my truck at the coffee shop as usual. My co-demonstrators parked beside me. We walked to the intersection, got organized and proceeded on with the demonstration. Meanwhile, back at my truck, a 13 to 15 year old boy decided to deface my tailgate with a piece of plastic or something. I actually saw the kid near my truck and didn't think anything of it at the time. The kid then showed up at our demonstration, ran wildly by waving his arms and shouting obscenities, then he joined some other youngsters on the east side of Pt. Brown Avenue. I did not know of the damage to my truck until the next morning when we left in the other vehicle to go to the beach. I saw the huge white scratches on the tailgate as we backed out of the driveway..... my heart sank. The following poem tells the story better than this post.

The Kid

Imagine this kid lounging around at the recreation center
Hoping for some attention, perhaps someone will enter
Engage him in some bantering, joking, any conversation
He’s so immature, unsure, without a shred of inspiration.

He gives up his little quest, he aimlessly departs the place
Nowhere to go in particular, he looks around for mischief
Gazing down the street he spies the traffic and the people
There on the middle island with their signs, it’s the vigil.

So nearby sits that dark blue vehicle, with bumper stickers
He grins, a thought begins, with jest he gleefully snickers
How fortunate his luck, spot the unguarded truck that way
A little piece of plastic’s all he needs, to make the lady pay.

Casually he stoops way down, out of view, surreptitiously
He scratches away frantically in a frenzied burst of energy
The deed is done, adrenaline’s humming, so powerful is he
A sneering mask of satisfaction on his rosy freckled cheek.

Just another petty crime, an angry kid with too much time
No parent supervision, an unpopular boy perhaps, alone
A fury welling up, low dog and just a pup, the angriest kid
To prey upon the population as he comes within their midst.

Wonder when he will grow up, or if he will, unsure that bet
Recklessness may lead to appalling things, unthought of yet
Change happens every day, he may overcome his cowardice
May modify his plan, yet become a man, given just a chance.

I was literally in a fog for days. I even absentmindedly drove too fast in town, something I never do, and got caught doing 50 in a 40 mph zone. Happily I was let off light by Officer Hirt who knew of the vandalism to my truck. Just settle down, Mary Ann, he said. Things will work out ok. Yeah right, when parents regain control over their kids, I thought to myself. I wished the kid had attacked me, personally. At least I could have fought back.

So I've decided to start my own blog......

2008-08-04T12:23:00.000-07:00

Here I am starting my own blog even though I know full well I have very little to say that is original. There are so many truly amazing bloggers and websites I enjoy..... but every once in awhile I want to see my own work in print, or maybe I need to vent or rant a bit. What ever did we amateur journalists do before the Internet? So I think to start this off right I will post a poem I wrote back in June, that fits right in with life at the beach on the central coast of Washington State.

Little Sand Castles

Summer weekends at the beach
Children play along the strand
Safe and loved and full of life
They build castles in the sand

One small child begins to play
Contented there but all alone
Another joins with cries of joy
And on it goes as castles form

Moats and walls of every size
Towers soar to their design
Something magic happens here
Special castles from their mind

Children’s castles dot the shore
Each unique in their own way
Made with pleasure in the sand
Meant to linger here and stay

Parents call the children in
Abandoned castles left alone
To sink and fall within the tide
Rolling in to claim its home

Summer shores are quiet now
Castles there were never safe
Like treasure lost into the sand
Memories now beneath the waves.

Oh, and just in case anyone got the wrong impression, I am not all sweetness and light and poetry and such. On Mondays and Fridays I can be found standing with my "Fund the Wounded, Not the War" sign at a couple of well traveled locations, along with my wonderful like-minded friends and fellow activists. Hey there America, let's all pitch in to help stop the Iraq war and occupation NOW!