Exiled in an Extraordinary World: The Poetry and the Short Stories, Thoughts Dancing in My Heart and Mind

By Lucian A. Tower

I began writing song lyric, then came poetry, and short stories, some 40-years-ago. When I was 10-years-old. During the sixties, and in high school, I had the privilege of meeting Poet Laureate of the United States, Mr. Robert Frost. He spoke with me discussing my poetry and my ideas. He told me to
keep writing and reading, and as I continued I would learn so much more, and eventually become a published poet.

I have continued writing lyrics, poetry, and short stories. I am now 64-years old, and I am published. I have always told other poets and writers to keep on writing, and learning about the many different styles of the written arts.

The way I see writing poetry is a likeness to a photograph of a moment, a dream, a place, and a thing, a memory good or not so good. Life comes at us in many different ways, sometimes in many different ways at once. Its the situations that arise, the masks some people wear, the way they talk and rub shoulders with everybody. These things make up the poetry I write. When you sit down and look at life youll find its much bigger than just us. This is poetry, lyric writing, short stories from the imagination, journalism, and actually all the arts, they are great love affairs with life.

I have found all things good in the written arts, even when Im turned down by an editor. Its all learning and enjoying what you do. So choose a photograph of a moment, a dream, or a situation, and then write about it. Create picture with words of description. I live a simple life as a Disabled Veteran of the U.S.M.C., and the Vietnam War. However, I am simply who I am, and I dont try to say Im someone else. I am a human being who loves the arts. My message to you all whom read this is KEEP ON WRITING; KEEP ON KEEPING ON.

Lucian A. Tower

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483666877

Lucian A. Tower

I began writing song lyrics, short stories, and poetry some 48-years-ago. While I was in high school, during the 60s, I had the privilege of meeting Poet Laureate of the United States of America, Mr. Robert Frost. He spoke with me discussing my writings, my poetry. He told me to keep writing and reading, and as I continued I would learn so much more, and eventually become a published poet. I have continued writing lyrics, short stories, and poetry. I am now 63-years-old, and I have been published. I have always told other poets and writers to keep on writing, and learning about the many different styles of the written arts. I have also spent 35-years as an entertainer, singer, song writer, and also a musician. I have worked with Tom T. Hall, Billy Jo Spears, Red Sovine, Bobby Bare, and Kitty Wells. I have also played with Rhythm Blues Entertainers too, The Four Tops, The Platters, The Sherelles, and Visions ( Mark Farner, of Grand Funk Railroad, and the survivors of the Lynard Skynard Band). We were an International Country Rhythm Blues Band, and played together for several years. The way I see writing poetry is a likeness to a photograph of a moment, a dream, a place, a thing, a memory. Life comes at us in many ways, sometimes in many different ways at once. It's the situations that arise, the masks some people wear, the way they talk and rub shoulders with everybody. These things make up the poetry I write. When you sit down and look at life you'll find it's much bigger than just us. This is poetry, lyric writing, short stories, journalism, actually all the arts. I have found all things good in writing, even when I'm turned down by an editor. It's all learning, and enjoying what I do. I choose a photograph, a moment, a dream, or a situation and I write about it. I create a picture with words. I live a simple life as a disabled veteran of the U.S.M.C., and of the Vietnam War. However, I am simply me, and I don't try and say I'm someone else. Who am I? Well I'm a human being who loves the arts. My message to you all who reads this is KEEP ON WRITING, KEEP ON KEEPING ON.

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Copyright © 2013 by Lucian A. Tower.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 07/15/2013

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Contents

Dedication

Massacre 2012

Destiny In A Mirror

Christmas 2012

Visions Of Christmas

A New Year’s Message 2013

My Wonderful, Trusting, Forever Love

Exiled In The World

Let The Dead Bury The Dead

Under The River Red Willow

Walking Wounded

I Love Myself?

In The Winter Shadow of The Mountain

Sizes and Shapes

Air Circus

The Drops Off of The Roof

Reverie

Someone’s Blues Song

Alien Observation

What’s Happening With You Today?

I Miss You; I’ve Cried

Wanagi Nupa Proverbs 1, 2, And 3

Lovesick

A Doorway Of Need

News Of Ninety-Three

I Agree

The Burden

Beauty Beyond Understanding

Sore Throat

Metallic Lightning

Fly, O Love!

Flashback

Tree Fort

Bitter Tears Bay

Drug Lord

A Lamppost In The Sky Crying

A Retentive Spirit

Ride, Seahorse Ride

Patience

V.A.M.C., Serving Veterans Since—When?

Homework

Sad Monologue

Cabbie’s Yellow Cab With A Light On Top

Gramma’s Table

The Kitchen Blues

Paradise

What Song Is This?

Too Far Out Of Sight

Wee Hummingbird

The Flooding Rivers

What Would It Be Like?

Silly, Lots To Do

My Godchild, Little Lukie

Paying Attention

Cause I Didn’t Have The Chart

My Memory Of Italy And Alma

Your Precious, Passionate Smile

Unsuspecting Township

Father’s Day

The Apartment Near The Fire Station

My Mystical Ride On A Train

A Memory In May of A Time In Hue City

Kite: An Irresponsible Night

O! Merciful Great Mystery!

A Prayer For The Journey To Find Unity

Gone Again Like Before

Pop

If You Love Her, Let Her Go, If She Comes Back…

My Special Dream Woman

The Grizzly Bear and The Warrior

For Love Is Everything

Darkness

Why Is There A Reclusive Man In My Room?

She Came To Me Walking In Beauty

The Terrible Truth Is Awkward

First Thought On The Journey

The Reckoning

Writer’s Block

What’s The Unknowing?

Luke Two Spirit, A Story: An Introduction

Luke Two Spirit, A Story

A Tale Of A Great Plains Snow Storm

A Tale Of A Great Plains Snow Storm

Credits

About My Poems

The Poet’s Comment Corner

Reviews From Poetry.com

Dedication

A book of poetry and short stories, a task which has taken years to complete. Many of life’s experiences have gone into its creation. Many loves, friends and acquaintances have left photographs in my mind. Childhood memories, good and sad, war experiences, dreams, and stressful permanence. Times of working in prison, loves, both fulfilling and depressing, and the many moments that life has given me as I journeyed on this trail I’ve traversed, that was willed to me by The Great Sacred Spirit.

I would like to thank the many people I have met and befriended. My fellow U.S. Marines, and all Veterans, whom have fought the Vietnam War with me by my side, and those whom have fought all those before and all those coming after. Also, those whom have taught me in college, and all whom have called me friend.

Especially, I need to thank my wife, and closest friend Annette. Also, I need to thank my good friend Ranaee, who kept my focus founded, and helped me with my computer, and with the spelling of those $.50 words.

I would like, at this time, to thank my mentors whom opened my eyes to poetry, writing, and spirituality, Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Edgar Allan Poe, Walt Whitman, Fr. Thomas Merton, William W. Johnstone, and my Great, Grandfather, Author Henry Mendal Tower. There have been many whom have blessed me with knowledge, and whom I haven’t mentioned. To them I can only say thank you so very much with all my heart. Mitakuye Oyasin! Aho! : (All My relations! Amen!)

Quote

"You may shoot me with your words,

you may cut me with your eyes,

you may kill me with your hatefulness,

but still, like air, I’ll rise!"

By: Maya Angelou

Massacre 2012

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A massacre of children and teacher in a Connecticut school, and infamous attack of a deranged mind, an insanity so uncontrolled. If they hadn’t taken God out of our schools it wouldn’t be so cruel; but there are pedophiles in churches where scandals are hurled.

What makes us think that God is in buildings of wood, brick, or stone? He is an infinite Spirit, and is every where within and about us. Why blame God because of deranged minds; we should atone. To blame God for the insanities is to make Him a scapegoat again for us.

There are those who would gladly watch Him bleed, so cruel, so apathetic, and for what gain is their reasoning? Yet they would go to church to pray, confessing their sinful creed, to only walk away once again with debauchery; their demon seed.

Shouldn’t we put the blame where it is due… place it on the infamy? We know the truth I’m sure we do. It’s the evil spawn’s savagery. We aren’t the ones whom are being destroyed, it’s our children, our legacy. Stop reaching out to plant the blame on God, or society, or a thing, because we can’t understand the insanity.

Destiny In A Mirror

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The dream;

beauty walking down the street.

How I’d love to meet this sweetheart;

this scrumptious piece of chocolate.

The fog;

opaque morning mist rising from the river.

How I’d like to see if she’s maybe eager

to meet this seeker as an equal loving partner.

The smoke;

love I’ve known has blown back in my face.

Many times, many lines, with thoughts hard to erase.

Never finding her, though always praying for grace.

The mirror;

always watching the memories pass by.

Seeing how the sadness caused lines by my eyes,

having to live with all the loving lies.

The destiny;

what could it be that always accosts me?

Being gullible in love in this society?

Must I count on dreams of old to placate me?

Christmas 2012

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Christmas,

an old Roman holiday of jubilation,

of despair for those forgotten; the slaves.

Christmas,

traded thus for the Christ Child’s Birth Celebration,

hopelessness still plagues, poverty craves.

Christmas!

I’ve regarded this time of year with expectation,

while it’s become a business holiday; we’re their naves.

Christmas?

We believe not in Jesus, but only in our religions.

Another old Roman word; gathering the legions brave.

Christmas,

sounds rather like militia in its origin,

far from the Faith, the Hope, the Love, that Jesus gave.

Christmas?

However, what will be our motivation

when confusion destroys all of the staves?

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Visions Of Christmas

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Perhaps snow will come

we’ll ride in a one horse sleigh,

singing Christmas Carols; such fun!

Presents are all wrapped,

stacked under a Christmas tree;

socks hung on the mantle with ease.

The kids are in bed.

Cookies and milk on the table;

visions of Christmas dancing in heads.

Many miles away,

a Marine guards a compound;

no peace or goodwill be found.

Missing this Christmas.

The enemy don’t believe.

The loving memories of home he sees.

Back home on the streets,

homeless Vets question this belief.

They don’t have a home;

just begging drinks and eats.

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A New Year’s Message 2013

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A Happy Holidays to all,

and a prayer of Joy, Peace, and Love.

As the days of this year grow small,

most of all I give you Gratitude, with my LOVE.

This old year has brought us pain and worry,

whether our Country would still stand tall.

The New Year comes with our hope for sanity,

in a Government that should care for one and all.

All My Relations Aho!

My Wonderful,

Trusting, Forever Love

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I stood watching you play your game on the laptop,

I felt my heart beating stronger, as I remembered,

the first time we met; we both saw a love grow.

It’s been ten years since that day, and I love you so.

Will we please always know?

Back then, you had so much courage, it shown in your eyes.

However, after your accident, I felt fear arise inside.

You know I love you, and always will too,

but sometimes I wish your old courage back as when we met.

I pray God hears my cries.

You and I have been through so much pain in this life,

you from your traumas, me from the war across the pond…

It has worn both of us down a lot, but never our love,

never our unity, never our strength.

It’s guarded by our angel from above.

I remember the times, in the farmer’s field, where we made love.

I remember the time, by the river fishing, when we made love.

These are such beautiful memories of you and I together,

my wonderful, trusting, forever love;

we are one together, whatever else, we’re forever.

Exiled In The World

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What does it mean to be exiled in a world that’s so apathetic?

How can we change and be true human beings?

Do we always have to follow along as robots everyday?

Can we realize that we are related to all living things?

Once we had cultures to cling to, some tenaciously, most sensibly.

What do we cling to now? Some are afraid of clowns.

People are afraid to go outside; they’re scared what they’ll see.

Sad, real sad, exiled because of fear…

and those who always argue and frown.

Incredible I say, to be locked away, all alone,

frightened in your home.

Once we had social gatherings, church socials,

public dances; the old ways; remember?

We had the sixties, the war, the insidiousness,

the racism, the television, the internet, the camera phones,

the big businesses, the big governments, the adults that game play;

all focusing us on reclusion.

What kind of life can a person have today? One living it up with beer,

one giving it away to drugs, one wrapped-up in self pity, one who

doesn’t know self…

What do we look for here… cabin fever?

There are a lot of people, but only a few human beings—really.

All I know is the need to find out whom we really are inside.

The