Vietnam Poem by Wesley Willis

Jungles where Americans faded,
Darkened foliage of Vietnam
Viet Cong guerrillas barricaded.
Beneath the ground the tunnels swam.

The nickel silver shine of moons,
whose deathly flying pellets dart.
But death is real amongst platoons,
the stench I draw in breathless art.

Vietnam back in sixty-four
and sixty-five uncloaks the dead.
The phantom's scythe exists in war,
proclaiming death its swiftness bled.

In heated battle far from home
Your love explodes my heart's desire.
Entombed with shrapnel's falling dome.
My love remains in this empire.