John Hulse Collected Poems (1985–2015): Volume 3

By John Hulse

This book is an amazing collection of poems from John Hulse. His award-winning poetry and stories touch on subjects of social justice, religion and spirituality, and politics and humor. The book was written to try and raise money and awareness for veterans causes. Proceeds from the book will be directed toward veterans organizations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Feb 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781490781174

John Hulse

John Hulse is a poet, artist, and filmmaker from Anderson, Indiana. He is the author of more than a dozen books and his work has won awards including the International Poet of Merit Award and the Shakespeare Trophy of Excellence and is on the ACC Wall of Honor. Mr. Hulse has also worked as a book editor for dozens of universities and publishing companies all over the world.

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Copyright 2017 John Hulse.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-8118-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-8117-4 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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Contents

I fed her her last meal

here I’m dead, here I’m alive

I saw a photograph of a 70 year old Vietnamese grandmother

for one of my friends in the FBI (for A. M.)

april 4, 2016

it gives you a new perspective (No More)

pointing their slings and arrows right between my eyes

Electoral College declares the Cleveland Indians are the winners of the World Series

Who knows, maybe Trump will want to be a great president?

poem to Bernie supporters/is Jon Stewart available? (7/12/16)

DNC Blues #4

she said she had never been so insulted in her life

Remember when Trump had the opportunity to debate Bernie Sanders, pt. 1

To the loyalists of the democratic party

That’s How Bad It Is (January 2005)

Hopefully Trump won’t become a victim of the Bush Curse

the best and the worst job I ever had

poetry

on the back of a dollar

9/11

and other times it’s like

they never saw it coming

true definition of greatness

Is it still there?

so far not so good?

if only life were like that

I hope they know how sorry I am

That’s How Bad It Is (October 2004)

if only… (for paul, mikako and audra)

emergency room, september 1986

stop reading over my shoulder

impeachment

in the beginning #2

cats and dogs (Nepal 2004)

after sex effects

Fire Island 1990

Tokyo love story #7

Who knows, maybe Trump will want to be a great president?

That’s How Bad It Is (August 2004)

Hopeful Romantic

the poems that I have to write for joni

my two Saint Bernard stories

II.

mom’s water trick

life lesson #10

I didn’t want to hurt her feelings

Potato Story

fair shake

That’s How Bad It Is (December 2004)

p thing

No Soul at All

this one was going to leave a mark

shimmering substance

The Bush Economy, part II (Mary Jane Piss in Your Face Cheese Time)

more coffins land at Dover

one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me

Jesus in our faces

September 1, 1939

she told me her theory

a living death

stop, before it’s too late

That’s How Bad It Is (February 2005)

I told her how sorry I was

I wish I had said that…

do it till you’re satisfied

soap opera poem (november 23, 2001)

yul brenner would have been proud!

the three of us at the Lone Star Cafe

soap opera poem (november 24, 2001)

I blame my father for this

Hands to Heaven

july 13, 7:41am

sometimes it rains in april

The Bush Economy

I hope I know you my whole life

Gump for President

They Could Have Been Building Ships

That Traveled the Universe

tongue-ing

the loss of three good ones

9 Billion Dollars

The Ballad of Thomas Granger

the best meal of my life

President Trump (Drain the Swamp #6)

Remember when Trump had the opportunity to debate Bernie Sanders, pt. 2

The house at the DNC needs to be cleaned

Go Bullfrogs!

That’s How Bad It Is (November 2004)

PTSD (September 7)

PTSD (October 14)

PTSD (I don’t know what day it is)

The first time someone tried to take my life with a gun I was thirteen years old

multi-orgasmic

By the way… (DNC Blues #8)

the candy she left behind

My father never gave me a piece of bad advice

channel surfing 4:14am

the children I don’t have

reviews on my latest book #4

why am I so hungry?

channel surfing the news (june 18, 09)

never?

She May Be Right

twelve years old

That’s How Bad It Is

eschew obfuscation

we only really ask two things of congress

growing up in america

her magical breasts

Cinderella hell raiser

mine or theirs

I gave myself the .03

to the lost volume of poetry, part 1

morning in america

I’m not going to tell you

The Big Lie I Told to a Little Boy

How Iraq is going to feel about us when we turn their country into a killing ground

O’Henry and Me

madly, deeply, truly

The Joke I Wrote for David Letterman

republican candidate for president in the year 2012

untitled for now (for AG)

a job well done

there goes a happy guy

oakland, ca 1989, anderson, in 2009

talking about the ecstasy

That’s How Bad It Is (September 2004)

now that’s more like it

waiting for the sun to change into the earth

the first dilemma of the day

Recount your blessings

smoking

what did you hear?

the threat

what she did to me (november 10)

my inheritance

untitled june 3, 02

Is your friend Brenda still in town?

I’m no dentist and I don’t play one on tv

no wonder my grandfather was always smiling

You Know the Rest #10

Such Is Life

It Could Be

Will the Wolf Survive?

is that really a sweet a deal as it sounds?

breast talk

starvation 1986

trying to hold on

A.G.

(Your Turn) A lazy Wednesday afternoon

the memories of near starvation

he’s on a roll tonight

I have no idea what he did

criteria

drug consumption

jungle beast of insomnia land

that sure doesn’t look like Peyton Manning to me?

3,000 to 1 chance of making playoffs

CEO

Hedwig and the Angry Inch

dave and his dream of rollerblading

You Know the Rest

chili, with all the trimmings

Zen-kai Cooking Poem (Tokyo 1993)

An American with a Disability

PTSD #4

goddess, pt. 1

channel surfing (December 2005)

What I’m Doing Is Just All Wrong #4

McCain’s My Campaigns In the Shitter Blues #2

Ode to the Stars of the Adult Film Industry

best seller

we couldn’t make love that way

she was doing a crossword puzzle

I would trade my left nut for…

Telephone Psychic

life is like that

found a small scrap of paper (Feb 25)

I walked into the room and heard

house call

socks

pit of the stomach

the atomic bomb

war is hell

bright red toenails

the joys of being a somewhat flaming heterosexual

EVER

march 8, 1971 (the underdog)

Anti-gun ad

here I’m alive (and here I’m dead)

Little Ones #1

Little Ones #2

Little Ones #3

Little Ones #4

Little Ones #5

Little Ones #6

Little Ones #7

Little Ones #8

Little Ones #9

Little Ones #10

Little Ones #11

Little Ones #12

Little Ones #13

Little Ones #14

haiku (happy endings)

haiku (the decider)

haiku (repudiation)

haiku (seven minutes of silence)

haiku (flying shoes)

haiku (porn sites)

haiku (Rap Star)

haiku (post-traumatic stress)

haiku (Deep Throat/other people’s sons)

haiku (Where does Britney stand?)

haiku (open marriage)

haiku (slam dunk)

haiku (footwear of mass destruction)

haiku (power gives finger)

haiku (the only way)

The story I wrote that got my phone tapped by the NSA.

Dedication

For my father and mother,

family, to Audra and my friends,

like Jack who has on his resume

driving a jeep behind enemy lines

to rescue a wounded soldier

during the Battle of the Bulge

and my grandfather, a navy man,

who volunteered for duty

the day after Pearl Harbor

and my uncle Gerald and his flying 83

combat missions in World War II

and my uncle David’s years in Vietnam

and my brother’s 25 years in the service

and to the more than 6,000

U.S. soldiers

who have sacrificed

everything

in Iraq

and

Afghanistan.

Casualties, 32,201 wounded. 103,792 diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), 253,330 service members were diagnosed with a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), 1000 service members received wounds that required amputations. And one million Iraqi civilians caught in the crossfire.

I fed her her last meal

Sitting outside a restaurant

that we used to go to,

it will soon be one year

without her,

and she will never know

how much I miss her,

and if there was ever a question

if I ever loved her,

really loved her,

I know the answer

to that now.

here I’m dead, here I’m alive

It was all instinct and reflexes,

dodging the bullets flying

at my head.

the tree branches that we were,

just a second ago,

using for cover are now being

shredded by gunfire.

the leaves now falling in pieces

at my feet.

I am alive cause I hit the deck.

the guy standing next to me?

We eventually drive

the attackers away.

I look around to see if anyone else

has been hit.

If I ever had any innocence

to lose,

it was gone forever

in that instant.

Here I am dead,

here I am alive.

I saw a photograph of a 70 year old Vietnamese grandmother

I saw a photograph

of a 70 year old Vietnamese grandmother

transporting 600 pounds

of military supplies

by using a bicycle

without rubber for the tires,

with 300 pounds

somehow balanced on each side

of the handlebars.

The soldiers needed

the supplies

and grandma was willing

to risk terrible hardship,

and possible death

to see that the soldiers

got the guns, food, ammunition,

and medical supplies

that they needed.

What I took from this was

that if a 70 year old woman

is willing to transport

600 pounds of

ANYTHING,

much less bombs, grenades, rifles,

ammunition, food, medical supplies…

through a dense suffocating jungle,

while thousands of bombs fall from the sky,

trying to kill her,

then the message is clear,

she is telling you,

GET OUT!

Get the FUCK OUT!!

Get the FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW…

We should have listened to her.

58,000 (of us) dead

1.5 million (of them) dead

if you add in,

and why wouldn’t you,

Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia…

that number rises to 3.5 million.

150,000 US wounded,

1,600 MIA….

Many scars live on the inside.

In our nightmares.

Some say there are still men over there.

I don’t know the answer to that question.

But if it’s true, these men would be

70 years old now,

and would have to have survived

more than 40 years of brutality

and