The Macaw Parade · 4:13am Apr 29th, 2014
I once knew a boy we called Johnny.
He was sort of a bum, a slacker in school
Who always had a Macaw on his shoulder.
Little did we know he was about to grow bolder.
You see, Johnny was never one for working—
Everybody said he wouldn't make it.
He lived for himself, none else, a breathing half-ass,
It was a wonder at all how he ever passed.
Still, he proved us wrong, and that's what mattered.
In the system meant to mold our minds
He had come out alive, he had pushed through
Without any idea of next what to do.
Graduation came, months came and went
Before Johnny finally found his answer.
It was a warm, clear day in September,
When its date became one we would always remember.
A boy with no college, girl, or place to work,
Johnny was the perfect one to make a difference.
That said, it was still a great surprise
To see that kid with a contract signed.
Then Johnny went through eight weeks of hell,
Wondering why our gym teacher never prepared him.
He took the pain, he had no room to be mad,
Because after those weeks he was shipped off to Baghdad.
At that time, Johnny's home had a hit list,
Enemies labeled and numbered one through a thousand.
But he didn't worry, he was just trying to be tough
To prove to his crew that he was “Army” enough.
An outsider with no way to relate,
Johnny seldom found that sense of acceptance.
Hours upon days upon months went by,
As that cursed desert sun hung low in the sky.
Then one night, Johnny overheard some chatter
About an intelligence mission deep in the city.
Wanting to show the others that he was also a man,
He did everything he could to get in on the plan.
They shook their heads and shooed him away,
Thinking that would stop Johnny from trying.
But after watching him grovel, beg, and plead,
The rest of the soldiers finally agreed.
As they rode around the city in the dark after one,
They saw a man concealed, the blackness swallowed him,
So the soldiers said to the boy with the Macaw:
“Listen up, kid: this is your chance to be raw.”
They told him that the man was a suspect,
Enemies of the state, all terrorists must be questioned.
He didn't know why, but he quickly agreed,
A hero of war was all Johnny ever wanted to be.
Their truck creeped slowly around the corner
Johnny's heart raced, he could barely breathe.
But the man couldn't even put up a fight
When Johnny abducted him in the black of night.
An abandoned garage is all they could find
To interrogate this threat to society in.
Johnny soon ripped the bag from his face
So the other soldiers could fill his eyes with mace.
They spoke not a word as the man screamed loud,
Forcing Johnny to tie a knot over his lips.
With nothing left to do, the man cried silently
As the soldiers continued to beat him violently.
Johnny's mind wasn't blank, there was no excuse
They all knew exactly what they were doing.
They shocked him, hit him, drove nails through his eyes,
Then castrated him for telling them lies.
When it was almost over and the man lay in blood,
The soldiers handed Johnny a brand new desert eagle.
But as he went to cock the gun back against the man's head,
He felt it press against his own temple instead.
Johnny looked down at the man he had forsaken namelessly,
He looked down at the man until his eyes started to bleed,
And suddenly felt dark, lonely, and scared
But couldn't even pray because no one was there.
With nothing to meet his gaze but the black of the night,
He stared at the Macaw Parade of the families he'd slain.
The barrel of the pistol was bitterly cold,
Johnny shot himself in the head and died with no soul.
They say death takes you to a better place, but I doubt it,
This story doesn't even end with a reason like normal.
A warm day in May, the sky was so beautiful,
The rest of the soldiers died in a crash leaving the funeral.
2060578
Yes, a specific species of bird is a person's intellectual property. May I also note that the picture you linked is not, in fact, of a Military Macaw? The bird in the illustration that is credited by signature to the artist?
I apologize for being a copycat, I do not have time to invent a new bird species every time I write something.
You, sir, are an hero.
2061836 I know, i was pointing out that macaws look like the green cheeked conure.
I'm terrible at analyzing poetry, something I think I say every time you show us a new one; but I enjoy reading your poems. I always get the sense you're trying to say a lot more than just what is present on the screen, and that you try to include many ideas or concepts or themes, instead of one or two. I could be completely wrong of course, and I wouldn't be surprised, since, again, I suck at analyzing poetry xD
The other thing I always sense is that you aren't faking it--simply spouting platitudes or things you believe without real conviction. From what I've gathered over the time I've known you, I don't think we agree on very many things, but I know that what you believe you believe very deeply and strongly, and that's something I respect.
Much of the meaning probably went over my head here, but I think, at least in part, it's about a kind of ignorance you see many soldiers having? Perhaps ignorance isn't the right word...a lack of sense, or self reliance or independence--a "follow" mentality that leads them to carry out whatever orders they're given, no matter what those are or how immoral or unnecessary they may be. That they're basically just puppets, and don't really amount to any good.
Am I anywhere near the mark?