tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43194250298502028752024-02-20T12:05:48.213-08:00Bosco after the waranother day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-43982899426049585912011-03-02T12:13:00.000-08:002011-03-02T12:40:23.331-08:00"Misjudge"<div align="center">It's been a while, since I saw you. I often wonder what became of you. The one special moment that I still feel is the love I felt for you. That will never go away and I'm o.k. with that. Now, a complete mystery. How did it get this way? I often wondered but always came up with the same answer. It wasn't me, it was both our fault. But, why go and take that get-away. That's all I think of our long loved. Mine was real and I'm sure yours was at well. Were you scared for what you felt but did not see to complete. Were you scared of the man or the boy he was. I understand the place of where I'm at now. Through her eyes, she could only see the wrong, not seeing it as a whole was her drawback. Misjudged, is what I am to her now. I became the man she wanted all along. Seeing one's mistake is hard but a love gone for ever is worst.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div>another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-30247388064691800652011-02-28T20:05:00.000-08:002011-02-28T20:53:34.356-08:00"Request"<div align="center">You asked to be my friend. Has the years passed that now you want to reach out. Or could it be that something still ponders in one's mind. Yea, you got my attention but in what way. Do I choose to understand the request or just simply shrug it off as nothing. The one of many nothings through out my life. I have noticed of what you have become. Shame, it turned out that way. For that split moment in time, I would come to suffer, the consequences of that second that forever changed one's view. The girl that grew up to be her. We both knew she was wrong but only I admitted to the reality. Could one not see it? Lost in one's sheltered world, that's what I could come up with. I could understand but not respect that. The one, I did not want but got. Came to forever be known as the one that got away, maybe it was just better that way. Almighty and wholesome. I knew you then and now. This time I know how you turned out...</div>another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-63185147286610687832011-02-28T15:07:00.000-08:002011-02-28T16:10:17.897-08:00"A place I could find my self in"<div align="center"> </div><div align="center">"Place"</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">I could see her from a distance, she had no idea I could do that. I could watched and not be seen. Invisible and without you. It's been a while since we were face to face. I say that with pain in my heart and my head held low. How did the road split for us? I can still recall your beautiful face, that lit up my heart with joy. I known you for a while now. The tears are as fresh as ever. Were we drifting in different currents? I did not know the answer. I was just trying to stay afloat with you. Let us not forget the pleasure of holding each other's hands. Eyes locked and the security of our arms covered our existence. My heartbeat, your heartbeat. That is what I heard. Now, just a single heartbeat. I stand alone and broken. The life we had, all but seemed like a distant path I once walked. Now, the grass has covered the path and only have the memories to guide me through. I, at one end, you at the other end. Is where I find myself. I could reach, but could not grabbed. To know but one can not keep. It was a crazy storm that brought us together. Fought to stay afloat and sailed through the rough seas. We took damages we could not overcome. In the end, I leave you with this....I fought well, and forever their is a place in my heart for you.</div>another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-65728269592352609802011-01-10T14:39:00.000-08:002011-01-10T14:42:48.463-08:00I never leftHello world.<br /><br />It has been quit a while since I wrote. I could tell you some <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">bs</span> reason as to why but I won't. for some reason I have not had the desire to write. I think it's because I have not been in school for the last two semesters. While in school it gives me the time to write and it motivates me. So, here I am in the computer lab writing as we speak. Damn, I'm glad I'm in school again.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-88504661167024451712010-06-17T08:41:00.000-07:002010-06-22T07:25:28.816-07:00"Still here"When it comes to my writing I'm very selective on the location of where I'm at. It's because I dive in to my writing and forget that there is still a world around me. All responsabilities gone, time is forgotten, just my thoughts to write. I need to be in a world that will not interfier with the flow of my writing. So there for, I mute the world around me by listening to my own kind of music. Right set of mind and I'm off to explore the thoughts in my head. That's how I write. Another excuse of not posting alot of writing. All I ask is to stay with me and enjoy my writing.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-28675571192003202692010-04-05T13:35:00.000-07:002010-04-11T20:22:16.605-07:00"A fable"<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">I'm at ease when I'm with you. No need to hide the love I have, it would only hurt me in the end.<br />The world seems to have vanished from our thoughts every time our heart's hear one another . The only real thing are the eyes I see staring right back; I know, she knows. The simple fact of life in just viewing your eyes, warms my heart deep inside me. It found a place I did not know of. Our lips are touching and my sight is locked onto your eyes. Too late to back out. I will go forward, the animal in me is in charge now. Your heart beat makes the passion flow threw out my body and soul.<br /><br />Now, let me talk about that face -a feature only God could create. A one and only sculpture for me to see and cherish. Not only do your eyes capture me, they allow me see that face of yours every day, with eyes open or closed. Either way it is a joy to be alive around you. My finger tips let me know the smooth silky skin of yours. The simple joys of getting to know you is what I capture in my mind. No more, no less, just you and me. A fable that will never come to life.</div>another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-12386049214533644562010-02-24T20:37:00.000-08:002010-02-24T20:52:43.638-08:00"FYI"The V.A. still clogging my lifeline. The "benefits" I earned are still a good month to two behind.<br />This is angering me, why should I fight for my rights, I had <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">enough</span> fights to fill a lifetime. Are we not on the same team? Don't treat me like a number. I gave you my life, at least give me the respect I earned. The G.I. bill, a new pain in the ass for me on a life full of asses.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Why would the "govt" treat me like this now.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-80956548861653075492010-02-12T17:31:00.000-08:002010-02-12T21:03:41.759-08:00"Lunch Tme"All strangers, but with one thing in common. A selfless service to one's nation. My little well known community college, threw a luncheon on November 11, 2009. I went to meet other veterans such as I, because it's my duty. For some reason, I thought their would be someone from my military past, but that would not be the case. Just like in 2008.<br /><br />I don't know who to thanks, the war or the school. This time around there was a good turn out. Before sitting down on the well arrange table, which had a floral arrangement in the middle as it's center piece, with no occupants yet. I approach a stranger and asked, "So, what branch were you." He replied, "Army, you?" I knew we would get along quit well for today's festivities.<br /><br />The table filled up with all the military branches present. As always the Army had the superior numbers if it came to blows. The Coast Guard had one. Coast Guard, was a good shit talker. A third of the table was combat arms. Yep, we were the shit talking table by far. I had fun.<br /><br />Everyone knew how it was and could relate to one's lifestyle.<br /><br />The infantry a specialist and a sergeant, talking shit because that's what they did with one another. The mechanic, always with a funny story about some dumb ass in the motor pool or they performing infantry shit and hating it. The clerks, not much to say about them. One knows the type. The air force guys, sorry but four months of combat is not really combat. The marine, he wasn't the loud mouth fucking marine, but one could tell he was a marine. The table was full of characters.<br /><br />At the end of the luncheon, an organizer of the event handed out a questioner for everyone to filled out. On the comments section many of us wrote "open bar"another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-23860070943828283622010-01-14T16:27:00.000-08:002010-01-14T23:43:08.872-08:00"my world"Sorry for the long hiatus but the last couple of months had been busy, worried, and just full of life. My latest headache is school. If it's one thing its the other, I just can't catch a break from my non-understanding community college. Due to the lack of caring employees at the financial aid office my paper work was lost and I came home empty handed for financial aid. After finally talking to a person that cared it still didn't help my cause. Last fall semester was hard for me in school, life, and fatherhood. Wife was deployed for a month with the national guard, the V.A. dropping the ball on not been prepared to deal with the new G.I. Bill. Dealing to buy a books for school or feed the family with that money. I got a lot of fucking titles. Never the less I'm fighting, not winning. It takes a definite number of battles to win the war. I'm fighting a war of attrition. No matter how much it hurts it will be won. Since, I failed last semester the financial aid had a "real excuse" to turn me down. They simply didn't want to admit they screw up my paper work when I was a well qualified candidate. What's one more year of been poor. Good thing I got a lot of experienced on that, not my wife though. I make sure to tell her it's not the end of the world, but it's just another pebble on the path we walk together. We still got each other for support and communication. Family is in good health. I'm just grateful to what I have.<br /><br />Born in the second poorest country in Latin America, survived two wars, one as a child and the other as an adult. It has made me understand what life is really about. My wife grew up without her government been corrupt, no civil war to experience and most of all she is "<a name="preamble">We the People </a>of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America." That sums up my wife, Alisha. I really respect that about her.<br /><br />I really do see the light at the end of the tunnel. I'm just tired of walking to it.<br /><br />I came to the conclusion that I won't have the great civil engineering carrier I was after. It wasn't for the lack of trying, just the realization of "who" I'm really are as a person. Plan B. I have experienced life in many different environments that some have not and that road leads me to teaching. I'm sure my "two cents" will make one a dollar. I want to end up as a professor for a community college or teach at a well known college. The ones that "mommy and daddy" paid their kids to go to, so they can put their "tech" sticker on the family minivan.<br /><br />Looking back at it now it would have been better for me to get my A.A. in liberal arts instead of engineering. Aim high, if that doesn't work then one knows the way down. Going for the gold has cost me a lot of headaches and the realization of the bullshit bureaucracy of college.<br /><br />After dropping out of high school I went to Nova, I studied what I wanted and when I wanted it and not caring if I passed or failed. I wanted to educate my self and taste it for my self. Once I stopped going to Nova (Northern Virginia community college) my G.P.A classified me as a student that only achieved 0.9 . The "bureaucrats" didn't understand the person just the number and they based their thinking's on that. What a waste of college educated staff and judging a book by its cover. They simply don't want to turn the page or should I really say listen to the person.<br /><br />When I came back to Nova, I made the Dean's list and other achievements that I did not seek or wanted. The "bureaucrats" love what a great turn around I achieved, but I was still the same guy. I hate tittles. That's all the masses see. Look and listen at the person and judge it for one's self.<br /><br />I'm only after learning and expanding my horizons. This world loves to give out tittles left and right. I'm the kind of person that could care to shits about tittles. The only tittle I really seek is been the best dad to my kids. To the general masses that like tittles to measure a man's worth they will see it hanging on wall of my bathroom.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-13431393918775680152009-12-24T06:19:00.000-08:002009-12-24T06:20:26.616-08:00hello worldanother day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-14220919060011735822009-11-03T09:32:00.000-08:002009-11-09T10:00:11.655-08:00"Infantryman to a changing diaper mommy"life works in mysterious ways that seem to meet me quit frequently. Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine been the stereo-typical stay at home mom. What the fuck? I have a penis and I'm a mom.<br /><br />Yep, as we speak I am a stay at home mom. Roots coming from a good kid in the beginning then graduating to a stoner with a G.E.D. My four year college degree was from the Army. Graduation was held in Mosul, Iraq for a year. Twelve received their diplomas posthumously.<br /><br />Maybe one should plan their lives accordingly, but if one does that then they are going to missed out on what life has to offer for the unexpected. Take my case, after been fired from my job I discovered the best job on earth. Taking care of my daughters. Not just from a dad's point of view, but rather from a mom's point of view now. I'm honored to be experiencing it, yet I know the day will come when my kids won't need their mommy. That's not a very pleasant feeling.<br /><br />My life hasn't been really planned out, just moments of life that have shape the man I am.<br />Infantry man to a diaper changing mommy.<br /><br />Make sure that my adorable Makayla wakes up on time on a school day. I know she's clever and knows that I don't need to turn the water on for her or carry her from the bed to the bathroom, but I'm capable and willing to do that for her. I seek and find the little things that will Makayla know the undying love I have for her.<br /><div></div><br />Out on the balcony on the third floor, lets me watch her from a short distance. I like to think that I'm on guard duty. As always guard duty blows, but it must be done. One never knows of the shit that might happen. Daddy can make it in five seconds or less to bus stop if need be. Down below on the bus stop, she gets to act like a regular first grader. One down, one more to go, back to bed for mom. Time is 7:30am.<br /><br />I swear Miraya got a internal alarm clock. Not really fully asleep, I can hear her come into my room. It's not because I got killer hearing far from that, it's because her bunny gives her away. Cute little stuff white beat up bunny that rattles, that bunny is her blankly. Sometimes I think she shakes her bunny nice and loud for me to hear her. Miraya is greeted with a "morning baby, I love you" and I get in return a "moning daddy" I could not ask for a better wake up. Get my ass out of bed now. Time is 8:03am.<br /><br />Throughout the day I see Miraya learn about life. By watching her favorite shows or just having a moment with me. We bond through the day, just by doing silly things. Reading a Dora book, but no need to really read it. Instead I talk about the scene on the pages. I do this because I want her to see what the characters looks like, and ask what colors she sees. I try to keep it as close to the story line that my imagination allows me. We might read the same book 10 times and every time it's different from the last. The only things that don't change on the book are the pink diamond, white bunny, black penguins, gray kitty, snow butterflies, frozen lake. Ice skating and finally dancing.<br /><br />Time 2:50 pm. Time for mom and Miraya to get to the bus stop. Miraya gets excited about meeting her big sister at the bus stop. She greets her with a big hug as Makayla makes it out of the bus. I stand back and watch. Life is good to me. Here she comes, a full discharge of energy coming my way. Makayla moves Miraya after her hug and she charges full speed ahead, ready or not she's jumping on me for a hug.<br /><br />I am the mom of the family now, and what do moms do? They join the P.T.A, and so will I.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-69130093345434574242009-11-02T10:07:00.000-08:002009-11-09T08:34:04.512-08:00" A blackberry moment"Instead of listening to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">wonderful</span> sounds of nature one gets to experienced, I'm <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">listening</span> to the sounds of modern day life. Sitting outside my balcony, the soundtrack of nature is not there, just the sounds of machines going about one's business. The trees with its fall leaves don't scape my view, they are surrounded by concrete. I'm sure one has called it a "concrete jungle" in the past, I can agree with that <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">statement</span>.<br /><br /><br />The rain hitting the metal rail that entrap the balcony, instead of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">fallen</span> leaves, that have seem to covered the way of one's life, instead of covering the ground one has walked in the past. Having the pleasure to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">experienced</span> all kinds of weather that have blown through my way of life. The back woods of Ft. Lewis, with it's damp, cold to the bone days that never seemed to go away from one's soul. It wasn't the back woods I grew in, that title goes to the tourism and travel slogan of the commonwealth of "Virginia is for lovers." "Thus Always to Tyrants," is what is in my pedigree. Left my footprints on two middle eastern <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">countries</span>. One a combat zone and the other <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">classified</span> as non-combat zone. Was there really a difference? It wasn't home.<br /><br /><br />Now, the moment is gone. State of mind still holding, time to read "a farewell to arms"another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-12657290935330090222009-11-01T12:40:00.000-08:002009-11-01T12:43:31.973-08:00Comcast sucksThe virus was the easiest thing to fix but Comcast took two weeks and some change to fix the wireless connection.<br /><br />I'm back to writing, no more handicaps for this writer.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-80885274114110489702009-11-01T10:59:00.000-08:002009-11-01T12:39:24.090-08:00"A reach from a stranger"That's how I came to know Manasas, she chose me to be her knight in shinny armor for that summer night. As the soon to be prince making my way out of the dance floor empty handed and with a taste of defeat that would not leave my mind. Going home lady less, can't win them all.<br /><br />A sense of living, that's how I felt her hand. With in seconds of her grabbing my hand, I looked at her face and noticed her short black hair and brown eyes that told me not to let go. Then she utter from her mouth "take me with you" Not missing a beat her wish was my command. It all happened so fast that the manlike creature that held her chose not to pursue the prince and the princess, a victorious farewell.<br /><br />Collected our debts and found ourselves in the parking lot. Now we were able to come to terms as to what just happened on the dance floor. The evening was a pleasant midsummer night, light breeze and soothing temperature made nightfall charged the air with amour and it entered our lungs. Words came next.<br /><br />"Are you OK?" I made sure to say it with a calm voice. "Yes, thank you." Manassas, answered while staring at my eyes. Without saying a word she hugged me like a warm blanket on a winter night. With that lovely hug I felt her gracious bosom. Desire took over my hands and our enduring hug must have lasted all night long, but in reality we both knew that passion had a good gripped on us.<br /><br />The conclusion was to reveal our alias to one another. I wish their was more to say about that night with Manassas but it just ended with a gentle kiss from her luscious lips.<br /><br />Was I telling one a story or a memory of my past? Sounds like a fairy tale one reads from a two dollar magazine. It could be that a gentleman keeps one's morals in line. I will never tell.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-2376620546611042202009-10-27T07:35:00.000-07:002009-10-27T08:15:23.274-07:00blackberry updateGot time to kill at the doctor's office, I'm here for my daughter's appointment. <br />Computer still down, now the internet is down. Comcast sucks. They have been to my nice ghetto apartment twice and have come up with two different solutions that did not accomplished anything other than to assure me they got people working with no actual knowledge of one's job. <br /><br />Back to the doctor's office, still fucking waiting. Plus, kids getting on my nerves. The price of been a father sometimes sucks, hallmark hasn't come up with a card to ease my pissed off attitude.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-30497771393439318092009-10-21T09:57:00.000-07:002009-10-21T10:18:59.132-07:00comp issuesI hate computer viruses, this is why my writing has not been read. <br />I would like to thank the creators of the blackberry. Small ass key pad for writing a blog. Feels good to get something out at least, but typing with one finger is not fun.<br /><br />Don't think my mind is empty, it's just handicapped because some dumb ass likes to fuck with other people computers.<br /><br />Boy, it feels good to write. I'll try my new challenge.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-80595149655953896282009-10-16T08:52:00.000-07:002009-10-16T08:55:55.068-07:00UpdateJust to let one know that I been busy, lazy and can't seem to finish my blogs.<br />I have several that I'm working on. Don't worry, one will hear the voices in my head and I'll put them down on paper.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-35289618092323040612009-09-22T20:02:00.000-07:002009-09-22T23:26:42.017-07:00"Text to think about"After creating my blog I emailed my mentor. I wanted to let her know what I started. Once, I let the cat out of the bag, I wanted to know one's reaction two seconds ago. I'm always curious about what one's answer will be like. Is this the first step of a writer? I wanted to know like a curious kid not as an adult. The anticipation was standing right next to me.<br /><br />Finally, after getting the blog address right, he was able to read my blogs. I butchered my own introduction as a blogger. The first <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">text, </span>I realized that I wrote it incorrectly, forgot the f on after. On the second text I forgot the dot. But, the third was my awakening. I can say this with a smile on my face, I still haven't gotten my blog address down pat. As evidence been exposed to one's eyes.<br /><br />" I got it now.... This is some deep shit.... Y do it?" that was his reply after the third text.<br />I felt the shock wave hit me hard, just like my first I.E.D. (Improvised, Explosive, Device)<br /><br />I don't have a simple answer to that. A good bull shit answer is "it just came to me" but I don't have a bull shit answer, at least not this time. I know too well it's a rather complex answer to be answered now, only time will reveal the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">verdict</span>. How about these for now: Life gives me pleasure to write about. Emotion has a voice in my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">writing</span>. Experiences I had. I'm sure that their is more than that but I don't see them yet. Could this be my calling? I don't know, let me go answer the phone.<br /><br /><br />INSIDER INFORMATION - I made a rule about the blog, that I would be honest with my writing.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-14089803063255790242009-09-20T11:36:00.000-07:002009-09-21T20:52:09.189-07:00"Mirror"In the army one tends to hide one's feelings. If shown then one seems weak. Was it worth it for for me? I don't know. This question will be answered throughout my life.<br /><br />In the Army it seemed that they did not want me to be human. A soldier is what they demanded and wanted, not excuses. So, I became a soldier without really knowing the transformation happening within me. Wish I could have known about the transformation. I would have wanted more. Can't be explained, but one feels it inside. One is forever different. I am no longer Bosco, he's the saint that's keeping an eye out for me. Now, I am Jerez.<br /><br />Can't really complaint because infantrymen don't complaint, but I know what I experienced. The good about life and the shit for the dead. "shit, why him?" then a moment of silence would blanket my mind. A sad voice inside my head answered, "shit, I don't know" The thoughts I had in war with a empty heart. On the other hand, The only loud voice the guys heard coming from me was "better him then me." But, that wasn't the full sentence I heard in my mind. "Better him then me, I'm still in fucking Mosul."<br /><br />So, basically the time I have left on earth will lead to the full understanding of the soldier I was once. Back then one did not think of the future, sure they might have talked about it but one knew not to cry over spilled milk. Hope hurts, it can make one go crazy in war. It almost got me.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-83409416023770854542009-09-11T17:45:00.000-07:002009-09-11T18:00:50.850-07:00BornI beleave that one's death and creation are already written. The problem is that everybody wants to know when they die. Don't live in fear, enjoy each day that is granted in one's life.<br /><br />If I had the chance, I would pass on reading the last entry. Don't care about the day I die, it's already taken care of. Just going to enjoy life, a day, a moment.<br /><br />I love you.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-6918933600822735072009-09-11T16:20:00.000-07:002009-09-21T20:58:32.545-07:00"Breaking the mold, not by choice"I'm trying to remember when I broke the mold. I remembered been the "poster boy" for don't do drugs they are bad for you, speech. Would it be, when I used to smoke an oz. a week back in the good old days. How about dropping out of high school on my senior year, I just didn't buy the idea of one is nothing without one. Wait, I got a good one for you, it might be the time when I said........<br /><br />" I, Bosco, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God." How about that, yep me "La serpiente emplumada."<br /><br />That sounded good, right? The question that I'm curious about is when will I set the mold.<br /><br /><br />F.Y.I.<br /><br />I came up with the idea while trying to decide what to write about. I started thinking of the person I am. A little bit of this, a little bit of that, and realized I broken alot of molds through out my short life. People have been surprised of the shit I done. So, I leave one with that.<br /><br />If one ever done the oath then this will make one laught and bring good memories to one's soul.. .................<a href="http://usmilitary.about.com/od/militaryhumor/a/newoaths_2.htm">http://usmilitary.about.com/od/militaryhumor/a/newoaths_2.htm</a>another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-48304362737741298182009-09-10T00:45:00.000-07:002009-09-10T00:45:00.485-07:00"Dead or Alive"Oh, you black beauty, fine instrument of death. One gets to hold one and it speaks for one. Clean as life depends on it. Dead or alive, what is this one worth? The urge to kill wasn't necessarily there, but it was on one's hands.<br /><br />Let this weapon speak. One has the power of life and death. One sees the future and it doesn't include one. One may not make it to the next day. What the fuck does one know? Dead or Alive.<br /><br />No longer in one's hands but rather on one's mind now. No choice back then. That was how it was. The weapon was in charge. Now, the human subject is free to think and express one's self.<br /><br />One actually survives this shit. Would one ever believe the shit one's been through? One was sure it was heard, but only the fellows of C.I.B. felt it.<br /><br />Discovered a new person inside. Starting to realize the power one holds. One's training is the key to defeat life. The challenges ahead will be nothing compared to the war one has walked. No excuses, now the C.I.B's come to enjoy the hard earned struggles.<br /><br />Price is steep, too many to count, take that comment and interpret as one wishes. What kind of an education will one get from it? Right or wrong one will decide to the everlasting day. <br /><br />That was my price for the war.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-61134634464791229622009-09-09T00:27:00.000-07:002009-09-09T00:52:57.692-07:00Over the bermI see it, it's just over the horizon. Can't really make it out just yet, but I have a good idea of what it is. I caught a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">glimpse</span>.<br /><br />This is wonderful. We have made a voice. A voice that is in every state of the union. A united America. Veteran's of W.W. II, gave us what is now the "<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">American</span> dream", but for a while that voice hasn't roam like the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Buffalo</span> of old.<br /><br />We are the fresh breath of air this nation is going to get back into its lungs. From the little known towns of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">mid west</span> that pride <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">themselves</span> on been a good <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">American</span>. The all to common "closed doors" policy of the east coast, need not apply here. The spirit of adventure from the west cost has to be in all of us. All this creates what we have <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">stride</span> since 1776. Life, liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.<br /><br />Let not one <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">divide</span> us, instead we must unite to keep standing at our weakest hour. We all know to well what the past consist of. For this, I know is real and must continue. All I see are patriots. That's all I want to see.<br /><br />"— And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor." Last sentence of The Declaration of Independence.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-16687630663349900102009-09-07T12:10:00.000-07:002009-09-07T13:58:11.589-07:00Thank you for reading Tom.The "better him then me" was a self prescribed medication I injected into my veins. This shit is real now and its make or break (the war). I would not let my self show how scared I was. I didn't want the guys to think I was weak. They might have lost trust in me and back then it was not the time for that to happened. The thing I feared most was that I didn't want the guys to think they could not rely on me. If they thought that about me then might as well be dead to them. All we had was each other.<br /><br />Tommy's funeral broke the damn wide open. I cried like a little lost girl as if I were looking for my mom at the mall. By the time the C.O.'s vehicle got hit, I had no more tears to give. In the parking lot of the hospital my attitude was "get over it guys, it's fucking war people die." I was done, no more sorrow left for my body to show. At that time it was the only thing that made sense to me.<br /><br />My perspective back then still what I have now, but today they are thoughtful. We all had our own personal war back then, I'm talking about the enemy from within. I'm sorry if I offended the guys with that remark. It got me through the war.<br /><br />One may not beleave it but my eyes weep quit easily now. I like to blame the allergies I have but I know the real truth behind the sadness.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4319425029850202875.post-52000936225370175662009-09-07T01:30:00.000-07:002009-09-06T22:40:57.588-07:00Today's era of raising the flag on Iwo Jima.This is not an easy subject to talk about. The fact remains that it must be talked about. I didn't have to take a picture of my dying comrades, I just happened to be there when Allah came calling. "Allahu akbar"<br /><br />On the news not to long ago there was an article about the picture of a dying marine. It was published by the AP press. People were outrage that the photo was released and images of that nature should not be viewed by the public. The parents agreed with the people. Would one broadcast a dying marine in battle?<br /><br />So, the portrait of the marines raising the flag on Iwo Jima be stopped as well? Half of them died with in days of the photograph.<br /><br />I say publish it, one has to see and not read what war is about, what soldiers really fight for. No matter how much the world writes about war, one will never understand unless volunteering for it.<br /><br />I see no difference on those two pictures, they represent what every soldier thinks when the enemy attacks them. Let me do my job right so my friends don't die. The same feelings one feels about the picture of the marines raising the flag on Mount Suribachi, they should feel the same way about the picture of Lance Cpl. Joshua M. Bernard, 21, of New Portland, Maine.<br /><br />Yes, the figure of the dying marine is sad, it captured without saying what a dying face looks like. The effects of an R.P.G. on the body is quit devastating. I hated the sound when one was fired at us. To me it was the scariest sound on earth, it put a scared on my body that I could barely hide. I just knew it was coming and I could not do a damn thing about it. That sound still stays with me. Ruchnoi Protivotankovye Granatamyot, is a hand held anti tank grenade launcher.<br /><br />The picture of the dying marine can be found at <a href="http://www.ap.org/fallen_marine/">http://www.ap.org/fallen_marine/</a><br />I wanted to share this information because sometimes citizens tend to forget what heroes look like.another day awaits me.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02985405271564536093noreply@blogger.com3