Sunday, November 8, 2009

brings out the rebel in me


Jarad Ratliff, artist, added this note to his video: There was an old TV show named "Johnny Yuma." & Johnny Cash sang this song, as the theme song.


He is right. I barely remember the TV show but it brings good memories to the front of my brain when I think of it. I liked the word rebel then, and I still do. The song appeals to me tonight, and Jarad Ratliff is a rock star in my estimation for uploading the song at youtube.

  
Here's the original, sung by Johnny Cash:



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Saturday, November 7, 2009

poem for today by a soldier of the past























THE NEW TRANSLATION
-by Sergeant Thomas N. Wilkes, U.S.A.

The touch and go of the wilderness, the long land
That is my home is whet to my desire.
Massive my vista, and clear as the evening clearness
Resting on the distant grass. The pass, retreat
Of history is mine, as it swings out across
The open future. Stretched as the mind is stretched--
And red as the heart.

Who is there that cannot see the spreading synapse
The woolly mammoth with icebound paws
Is not so distant from the roaring hearts in Gary or in
Pittsburgh
Nor Nero from the flames of Bethlehem. The hammer
sounds
On steel are but an echo of two thousand years.
The men who fall beneath the Production Line
Die simply; death does not change, nor tears.
Time is a plowing of seasons.

The men who charged the China sea
Beneath great canvas are the men
Who came in this afternoon
On the brown barbaric barges from Duluth,
From the iron land of Minnesota. Men
Who float the rich fragmented earth for a handful of
nickels a day.

"Something is wrong with the world."
Something is wrong indeed.
We are too quick with the knife,
Too sudden with the itching palm.
We roll on wheels without bearings.
We need a new grease job!
We are our own glittering foe.
All this is but a tracing of the past.
Is it not so?
Did not St. Francis tread upon the adder
As he planted his little flowers?
And Moses slip upon the serpent in the sand?
The metal monotone of marching men has droned
A dismal cadence through the generations of our
heritage.
My hand is ever in your pocket, yours in mine.

We need no second Christ, no modern Marx,
No new philosophy . . . no quick injection
Of some stimulus.
There is no need
For several hundred head of martyrs here!
We have our one religion. A certain thing,
The Epic Earth, which balks explosion,
Cannot be destroyed--endless, simple, rich, magnificent,
and holy.
Men, we need no visitation, no miracle to awe the children,
No armored camps, no barren fields!
Hey you! We need a new translation!

-from REVEILLE, War Poems by Members of Our Armed Forces
selected by Daniel Henderson, John Kieran, and Grantlan Rice
copyright 1945




photo via: freedigitalphotos
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