Agent Orange Poem by Lost River

The thought, never came to my head
Never thought it could said
You see, He had truly cared for us
Like a mothering Hen making a fuss

We had often hidden face first down
Thinking there was safety,
Lying on the ground
While Rockets, Guns, Claymores
Him and each round, screaming,
Keep your heads down

How do I describe, War, Blinding White,
Thunder...
He had said. Dont be stupid,
Or make a blunder...
Thirteen months,
Now that's our lucky number
Just Rembember to thank God
That were not Six Feet Under


So we left that place

That Red Powdered Clay, and the Sand
Caught a couple Red Tails
To our Homes Lands
Those Freedom Birds, From Black Hell
and Vietnam

Home, Girls, Women, Maybe some kids
Making our plans

Home at last...?
Safe...?

Well... I spent twenty five years...
Just fixing my Head...?
...Even Now I only get three or four
Camping's no fun or
Trying to sleep in a bed...


I went to tell him one day... Thanks...
And happy that we had not eaten... any lead...

He broke me... the news...Clyde, Buddy,
I'm already dead...

That Red Powdered Clay and the Sand
Agent Orange
They sprayed on the land
Seems it killed the trees, and this man
Killed by our own Government
Fighting for Freedom... And our lives...
In Nam...

Now there's is no one
Our Government never cared for us...
They never shared...?
That Cancer...Never...No cure for us
But He Did...
His name... Lynn Newman Harris...

And now after these forty some
Hell like years
We have all cried...shed millions...
Endless tears...
And still...
Yet even today his name never appears...
I've gone and looked...
At that Black Wall of Tears





For Lynn, He died from Agent Orange
He served at K'San, Vietnam...
He was my friend......



Clyde Grant Bryson