The gig also featured on BBC Radio 4's 'Quote Unquote' programme with the presenter announcing in standard English A skinhead when asked why he spat in the face of the Dean of Baliol College when leaving a show by punk band Dum Dum Dum said: "Just my way of saying goodnight and thanks for a nice evening"
Friday, June 24, 2011
"It's 1980 and even punk's nihilism is looking over optimistic" - Dum Dum Dum
The gig also featured on BBC Radio 4's 'Quote Unquote' programme with the presenter announcing in standard English A skinhead when asked why he spat in the face of the Dean of Baliol College when leaving a show by punk band Dum Dum Dum said: "Just my way of saying goodnight and thanks for a nice evening"
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
CURIOUS LOVE SPLASH - Paul Conneally 2005
curious love splash
world summit to bring you weapons
a big fan not just of peace
these women never die grubby
once upon a future true heroes
finding joy in the gathering
curious love splash
blood and conservation make a bright ballet
seasonal monotone delights
poetic train giving tourists new voice
hand in hand a biting of words
paul conneally
11th april 2005
this shreadline piece was originally entitled 'a biting of words''
it was created out of cut up headlines from 'culture'
a magazine funded by the uk arts councilgiven away with tyneside newspaper 'the journal'
the artist picked his copy up in the swallow hotel newcastle-upon-tyne
the tuesday after easter 2005
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
LifeCycle - Geoff Broadway - Transform Snibston
Was a real pleasure and inspiration to work alongside Geoff Broadway for Transform Snibston. Here is Geoff's installation 'LifeCycle' and in his own words an explanation of the piece from Geoff's own website:
LifeCycle from Geoff Broadway on Vimeo.
"LifeCycle is a multi-screen audio-visual installation that explores the themes of change and transformation as they are understood and experienced by a range of people who live and work in the Coalville area. It was launched at the historic Century Theatre within Snibston Discovery Museum, Coalville, on 14th May, 2011. It was commissioned as part of the Transform project, a major arts program developed to transform how Snibston can be understood and interpreted.
LifeCycle reflects an ongoing interest in interpreting and re-articulating everyday life using film, audio and installation. This piece is based upon my journeys through Coalville, recording conversations with the wide range of people I met and capturing visual impressions of people and place. It is based upon notions of transformation and change - I asked the people I met to share with me their thoughts on the things and values we need to recognise; what we should treasure and preserve; what needs to come to an end and be let go of; what can we put at the heart of our culture and our communities.
The video above is a screen-based version of the film used for the installation.
The installation consists of 5 back-projection screens, 5 data projectors, surround-sound system, and is controlled by 3 Mac-mini computers.
The LifeCycle commission was curated by Maurice Maguire and Carolyn Abel at part of the Transform project. Jointly commissioned artists were: Brendan Jackson, Paul Conneally, and Joanne Dacombe.
Thanks to Chris Plant AKA Colour Burst for his invaluable Quartz Programming for multi-computer syncing."
Geoff Broadway 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
The James Connection - A Series Of Mountain Sonnets Linked To 'Suggestions For Writing Haiku In English' by James W. Hackett
the james connection
[1/23-8/21/03]
cindy tebo marlene mountain stephen addiss an'ya gary gach debra wooolard bender jennie townsend
nancy smith paul conneally carmen sterba francine porad gary blankenship
a series of mountain sonnets
linked to
SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING HAIKU IN ENGLISH
by
James W. Hackett 1
The present is the touchstone of the haiku experience, so
always be aware of this present moment. 'this present moment'
[1/22-3/24/03]
my scrapbook of memories presently without a haiku
on this gray day the next moment a repeat of the last one hundred
looking for my watch trusting its having been here somewhere once before
meditation period that last grain slides through the sandglass
past as present present as present future as present
shadows of the past hints of the future tint the present
forgetting the past i wander in mindless ecstasy
jwh arrives in kamakura with a mean rice curry crave*
just now the hiss of sugar dissolving in hot tea
deep in thought exploring a mouth ulcer with my tongue
still part of the problem old definitions and new
making up an identity nicely packaged
under the sagging christmas tree a slip of broken ribbon
dear diary a brand new war started today
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*Sept. 10, 002, whf
2
Remember that nature is the province of haiku.
(Carry a notebook for recording your haiku experiences.) 'nature'
[1/22-3/27/03]
mother nature calling me in the middle of the woods without toilet paper
a bigleaf maple shakes off rain my scratches run unreadable
droplets inscribing spring on leaves silence of the birds
in the dentist's chair my haiku notebook underneath the x-ray apron
swallow calligraphy leaving no traces
crossing weblets abandoned in dust between the panes
the 'province of haiku' clueless i scan maps of france and canada
shakah brah go straight to hawai'i and don't pass the parrots
she touches everything song notes in the book margins
heavy snow i put in an order for stinging nettle jeans
what's nature an angler throws a rod into the creek in anger
fishing fly 'it's not nice to fool mother nature'
daddy long legs race the winner disappears
end of winter birds at the feeder as if no time's past
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Contemplate natural objects closely... unseen wonders will reveal themselves. 'unseen wonders'
[1/22-3/32/03]
dead fly in the pitcher plant another drowning i couldn't stop
beneath the wet lumber a gray slug grows towards spring
young crippled smiling she panhandles rush-hour traffic back & forth
leaky pipe the garter snake opens its soft mouth
the homeless woman gazes at the postman
forgotten leeks left in august to return for christmas
nose to nose with the neighbor's dog i require stitches
pressured into a mammogram one breast then the other reflates
the gentlest of squirms this baby born at fifteen weeks
the swing of a golfer caught in strobe alley
mountains and caves on tv where is that long tall 'bin'
no bison but a sketch of pictographs of old
where beetles feast sap weeps from the pine's amber heart
scent of gardenias a swarm of ants on pure white petals
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Interpenetrate with nature.
Allow subjects to express their life through you.
That art Thou. 'interpenetrate'
[3/26-5/1/03]
carpenter bee hole perfectly round bores into my awareness
wasps fooled by false spring paper the front porch
the times falling open at the sports pages
with hardly a cloud in luminous blue the sun in my heart
a thunderstorm splatters through the screen full of the night
paint tossed onto the canvas my random technique
humidity seeps into my pours until the autumn wind blows
that restless feeling what a relief the breaking storm
pushed down the steps the sense knocked into me
spring weather a squirrel's nest sags in the branches
symbolically female an owl in the moonlight
a fragrant breeze my step lightens
the fishmonger's call across the marketplace beautiful flies
scales iridescently flash off the blade
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Reflect upon your notes of nature in solitude and quiet. Let
these be the basis of your haiku poems. 'solitude'
[3/25-7/30/03]
twirling bird feeder pine and camellia nod to each other
deep into sunset when i'm without words the bobwhite
soundscape without limit in the hackett garden
homestead the whole of it spread before me at the gate
just the other animals and me a beautiful dreary day
throwing a rock from the cliff into mist waiting wait...
the call of a ring neck beyond the traffic circle
one hundred years happening right now
i put my head under the bath-water just for the sound
all's quiet this morning save our resident meadowlark
alone after mother's day transplanting gifts of flowers
footsteps echo final walk-through the empty house
at the edge of the canyon i welcome nothing
beached jellyfish becoming invisible
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Write about nature just as it is... be true to life! 'true to life'
[3/22-4/8/03]
another storm leaky roofs and widow-makers
the daylilies range and range from two to eight inches
the old hound eating cat droppings
in the apartment lease no pets allowed empty bird house
backspace key until there's nothing left to erase
woken by a dog fox at the trashcan
first one child then they all flock around a fallen nest
first pimples on the girl's smooth brow
next to the station more cherry blossoms than people
the heart-seizing beauty of night war in blue and green
darn rainbows so quickly fading always fading
end of winter ducks at the feeder no time passed
ripples spring twilight fades from each one
online problems i'd have written about dogwood leaves if not
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Choose each word very carefully.
Use words that clearly express what you feel. 'what you feel'
[3/31-4/22/03]
i don't give a shit and call it haiku to advance art a wee bit
life and living exactly the same only different
explosion in the field my mind drifts to the milkweed pod
this silent tension of another day without any money
where is that dancer with the perfect lead missing from the center?
after destruction the healing of land body and soul comes slowly
how the surgery and scars hurt more than my spreading cancer
a one-legged marathon runner crosses the line
2 blonde 4-year-old girls at the beach each echoes what the other says
'oh! what a relief it is!' families of returned mia’s
the wet clay turning on the kickwheel as a space opens
again the first day of transmigration into an ant
sixty the relentless morph into grandfather accelerates
i wanted the iris to open yesterday a mind of its own
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8
Use verbs in the present tense. 'verbs in the present tense'
[4/7-7/8/03]
write here is a flower unfolding in turbulent times
if you're going to do it might as well do it now
wanting to say ‘thank you’ but feeling too grateful to
thorny rosebush the morning newspaper whose keeper you are
give worry donate fret contribute
become a part of the under layer of lilting leaves
as i write the wind detaches blossoms and sends them to my doorstep
drive to the art museum to view photographed constructions
i mistake a broom and discarded poster for art
the girl next-door arranges dandelions in a jar
our conversation about the air we're in
flight to mazatlan with loch lomond lyrics circling my brain
map of the mall i find the value of x in the e-x-it sign
someone's sneakers still up there on the power line
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For added dimension choose words that suggest the season,
location, or time of the day. 'seasonal words'
[4/22-7/30/03]
before birdsongs the sound of the newspaper delivery boy
eleven or twelve scallions bound tightly with a rubber band
straw in the manger and strawflower bunches upside-down
roses in summer autumn winter spring
noonday sun rising cathedral window patterns on the wall
the sun slants low and things aglow in its light begin to blush
solstice uncoiling the garden hose a butterfly
dewpoint the moistness of a snake on a rock
my mother's birthday on june 21st
the bewitching hour's downpour no place to go but up
afternoon nap the centipede chooses the left nike
my new loafers the puppy's chew toy
man in the moon half full or half empty
first nasu on my dinner plate
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Use only common language. 'common language'
[5/1-7/1/03]
the cat knows i know she knows i'm talking about her
after she finds the "right word" the poet police take it away
yellow snow the jogger's foot propped on a fire hydrant
shit my shoe finds the neighbor's dog's
come see mommy come see another wormfrogbuggrub wonder
'swing lo sweet chariot' propane tanks floating down the river
after she eats one of her young the neighbor's chicken spanked
getting ready to leave the dog everywhere in my path
rubs my ankle as she pads by
muggy heat behind eyelids pinprick stars in a red sky
june full moon bright commonwealth coyote howls
dull day but a multitude of flies in the garbage
curb stone words remind me to look right
accompanying nasty face and universal gesture
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Write in three lines which total approximately 17 syllables.
Many haiku experiences can be well expressed in the
Japanese line arrangement of 5, 7, 5 syllables - but not all. 'approximate 17 syllables'
[4/23-7/8/03]
never to return the moth leaves my fingertip and flies through light rain
with daisies to plant waking to rain and birdsong at the dark window
cherry petals drift onto the potted fir tree visions of fairies
another pair of jeans in my wardrobe become the wrong size
my favorite shirt belly buttons missing ripped torn tossed
out the train window wires on the telephone poles swooping like swallows
no cow manure here a mound of earth with holes in spokewheel fashion
promised land all the rainbow i need in every color iris
last night's dream of youth trim uniforms and joining the military
perpetuation of a bad myth i'll pass on the math
mu mu mu mu mu begins the monk nantembo's favorite haiku
a picturebook farm with ten cows my favorite foreign postage stamp
seen from the freeway fish-shaped cloud descends into the lips of a hill
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Avoid end rhyme in haiku. Read each verse aloud to make
sure that it sounds natural. 'natural sound'
[5/5-7/30/03]
sifting pollen ears of the marmalade cat twitch
tiny soda pop bubbles dissipate i'm on the mend
tick tick ticks all around us dropping to the forest floor
hiss and clunks of a radiator as traffic goes by
deep in wooded hills the town spring gurgles
hammer saw and backhoe the city moves its edges
buzzing right by me a hummingbird engine
a bee foxglove in a the noise of
her only quietude is at the laundromat
raindrops cease the murmur of the river moves closer
wind not in the willow not in the pine not in the cinnamon ferns
independence day celebration rattles the trailer no sleep tonight
creaking pines my bones ache too
orange peel grins from grandma's mouth
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Remember that lifefulness, not beauty, is the real quality of haiku. 'lifefulness'
[7/9-8/18/03]
no portrait in the attic the dip and dive of swallows
'bring 'em on' now that the 2-toned are abloom the ditch lilies
kickboxing while holding hands school-age brothers
4 fireflies in a mayonnaise jar the lights go out
on canning day sour pickles in blue glass
listening to an operatic duet on the radio
day camp the smallest boy practices his throws through lunch
teen age bus boy counts his tip money for the third time
check-out clerk stops to smell the woman's roses before he bags them
the sound of bluebottles in the smell of a dead pigeon
one wing broken a sparrow flutters across the parking lot
the soldier swallows to think he might die here in iraq
windchimes' occasional ping a bird's call a sunbeam's flicker on a leaf this peaceful day
movie channel's ‘men in black’ ends with a peal of thunder
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Never use obscure allusions: real haiku are intuitive, not
abstract or intellectual. 'intuitive'
[7/14-8/14/03]
that first splay-fingered touch a child in the autumn grass
the front doorbell another replacement window salesman
outside my kids and the blue angels screaming adrenaline rush
overwhelmed as usual i stop to smell the roses
on the restaurant table two yellow roses well almost roses
on my feet black dog twitching dreams at the window misted greens
french vanilla my moist tongue responds to the flavor
summer afternoon the boys tell stories about someday
feet tangling in the creek we remember fireflies
what's a made-up god know about sex anyway
waxing moon thinking of birds the housecat yawns
fifteen times more toxic than a rattler i release the black widow
back to the earth worms from the tackle box
westerly wind th'dust 'o bones o'them miners wha'found th'motherload
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Don't overlook humour, but avoid mere wit. 'avoid mere wit'
[6/29-8/18/03]
seen through the leaves a white-haired man dancing
turning sixty now i understand my sister 'autumn'
oh issa see how the fly doesn't wring its dirty hands
single living my imac set to laugh at my mistakes
in place of the daily haiku a text-message from the white house
balancing my checkbook the surplus becomes a deficit
figures adjusted to be in sync with the bank's
in my empty wallet a fortune
gold mulberry leaves lighten the turf my silk shell darkens
enough sense to come in out of the rain tho i didn't want it
grape stomp it feels good to be stained
a tire swing not entirely empty length of frayed rope
silent nun in watch repair shop present perfect
dear god warmed by bedcovers in my morning prayer
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Work on each poem until it suggests exactly what you want
others to see and feel. 'work on each poem'
[7/9-8/13/03]
chimes of iron chain clinking against flagpole across freeway
frogs croaking soprano alto tenor and bass
the telephone rings i start the second line yet again
renga my inner child learning to take turns
creased newspapers the tired faces of commuters
the receding storm holds back dawn yet stars still dim
summer storms the pain of sighs caught up in my ribcage
oh dear the worked-on poem with a perfect worked-on look
the peacock erects its feathers for zoo-goers
57 years the a-bomb survivors still see the mushroom cloud
august 6th us television explores volcanoes
pele's tears i don't listen to his explanation
a thousand words plus a photo of his latest wife
changing clothes i've become another woman for my husband
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Remember that haiku is a finger pointing at the moon, and
if the hand is bejewelled, we no longer see that to which it
points. 'avoid excess decoration'
[7/10-8/21/03]
july 10 it's yet another day of just being
cooler under the trees now that the planting is done
inspection over termites work clearing the yard of stumps
the sadness in grandma's blue eyes summer evening
his laughter our morning noon and night
for her rescue private lynch thanks americans and iraqis
pulled out of the lake into the boat the golden retriever
window-washer i wave too
since mom died not a thread in the sewing machine
august sun a red tractor fades in the field
sleeping all day she takes a nap at night tabby cat
students back at summer's end book-bikes-buses block my driveway near suppertime
a dandelion and two spent joints by the skate-park bench
eleven dog days left 'til labor day fleas come indoors too
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Honour your senses with awareness, and your Spirit with
zazen or other centering meditation. The Zen-haiku mind
should be like a clear mountain pond: reflective, not with
thought, but of the moon and every flight beyond... 'reflection'
[7/10 -8/13/03]
thunderstorms clear the pond muddy what goes around
a closer look to note the bend of the willow
in the spirit of lewis and clark our capsized canoe
reeling as the geese fly over ripples in the lake
market day i find my face in the eye of a huge sea-bream
the cat walks away only broccoli in the shopping bag
after all the greenery the long walk home
is not the haiku mind of nature so knowing no 'shoulds'?
in the garden of my childhood a small tree to pray under
pecks in watery grass while her kid plays with dandelions
clover and bees and a yellow circle under the chin
her letters lost among pictures of it's a small world
carousel music the galaxy goes round and round
fast afloat with the moon to infinity and beyond
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The James Connection was coordinated by paul conneally and marlene mountain for the marlene mountain section of the World Haiku Review which conneally was editor of at the time.
The mountain sonnet is a form developed by paul conneally with marlene mountain which uses mountain's one line haiku link form as a usually themed 14 line poem made up of 14 one line linked haiku.
Conneally asserts that marlene mountain is one of the most talented and influential haiku poets of the late 20th and early 21st century continually challenging readers to confront what haiku / haikai was is and might be.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
The Sound of Water - Thurmaston - Charnwood - Leicestershire
Conneally asks Jemma and Brenda, rather than himself, to appear on the radio and talk about the work. This mediation between artist and the work and the wider public through community and media extends the scope of the piece inviting and allowing further interpretation and insights and into the work than the artist could perhaps imagine.
The work led to a publication 'The Sound of Water' and is an example of how psychogeography / splacist approaches can work to explore areas and planning schemes. Here a Section 106 planning order where the builders are required to pay for public art is subverted from the nowm when Conneally and Bagley use the builder's money to work with a group that are against the building development.
Some of the poems from the action group are then incorporated into the estate as metal haiku benches made by sculptor Richard Thornton.
The work was supported by Charnwood Borough Council.
Freedom For A Song - Paul Conneally 2010
Freedom For A Song comes from INDIFFERENT, a series of prints, images and texts, by artist, poet and cultural forager Paul Conneally. INDIFFERENT emerges from cultural forages in and around Snibston Discovery Park and the villages that surround it. The forages form part of the process underpinning Spoil Heap Harvest a piece commissioned by Snibston as part of TRANSFORM.
INDIFFERENT sees Conneally juxtaposing the poetry of the playwright and poet Francis Beaumont, who was born in Thringston, North West Leicestershire, with not frottages but presages of plant and other materials, made on a cultural forage through the Snibston Colliery spoil heap, now a country park. The artist invites the viewer to seek for pictures within the presaged image in the same way that a psychologist might ask a patient to look for images in the famous Rorschach or Ink Blot Test. What can you see? You can report back to the artist what you feel the image to be by email: little.onion@ntlworld.com or by commenting on this page using the comment form.
Throughout Spoil Heap Harvest Conneally will make psychogeographic cultural forages through the wider footprint of the former Snibston colliery which is in Coalville, North West Leicestershire. The forages and interventions will be mediated by the poetry of William Wordsworth, Francis Beaumont and the paintings of John Constable. All three of these cultural giants deeply connected with the area in ways for the most part unknown by local and wider communities.
Wordsworth lived in the area, with his whole family, for a whole year and it was at Coleorton that he first read his completed masterpiece, The Prelude, to Coleridge. Constable, Sir Walter Scott and many other famous artists and writers clamoured to North West Leicestershire to stay with George Beaumont at his home Coleorton Hall, just down the road from Snibston. George Beaumont himself was the lead benefactor for the setting up the National Gallery in London.
Paul Conneally is cultural forager in residence at Snibston Discovery Museum as part of TRANSFORM SNIBSTON.
Tuesday, June 07, 2011
Sunday, June 05, 2011
Photographs of Haiku Jam at Derby Roundhouse Japan Earthquake Cultural Day
Saturday, June 04, 2011
Friday, June 03, 2011
Haiku Jam - Six Haiku by Alan Summers with Japanese Translations by Hidenori Hiruta
This is a phototograph of one of a limited edition series of six jars of haiku jam by artist poet Paul Conneally.
Each jar of haiku jam has a haiku by award winning haiku poet Alan Summers with a Japanese translation by Hidenori Hiruta published on it.
This Haiku Jam series has been produced for the Japan Earthquake Appeal and will be available at Japan Earthquake Japanese Cultural Day at Derby Roundhouse on the 5th June 2011 11 am to 4.30 pm
.Thursday, June 02, 2011
Ten Days of R&R in Japan
Haikumania War Crimes Project follows Ty Hadman from the Vietnam battle-zone to some leave in Japan with "Ten Days of R&R in Japan" presented in eight haiku. - Paul Conneally TEN DAYS OF R&R IN JAPAN
En route to Japan; Tokaido Station: She knows no English, One of about 20 girls who waited patiently for over 2 hours for me to finish my zazen meditation. As I sit in a full-lotus, Of me! The Zen master's Golden Pavilion: This is the same Zen temple as described in Yukio Mishima's world famous novel, The Temple of the Golden Pavillion. New Year's Eve Arms filled with gifts: |
All work is copyrighted by Ty Hadman and should not be reproduced without permission from the author.
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
Dong Ha Haiku
Dong Ha Haiku
As part of its War Crimes project haikumania presents Dong Ha Haiku by Ty Hadman. This piece was first published in 1982 by Smythe-Waithe Press in Kentfield, CA and remains a powerful piece of work - Paul Conneally
DONG HA HAIKU
(Dong Ha was one of the poorest villages in South Vietnam in the province of Quang Tri, just a few miles south of the DMZ (Demilitarized Zone) near the Cua Viet River where I was stationed in the Marines with a rifle company from 2/29/68–4/3/69.)
this one last kiss
before I leave for the war
this winter
(Travis Air Force Base, CA
February 23, 1968)
dusk’s darkness deepens
along the lines the whispering
of tonight’s password
I’ve got the jitters . . ....
no sign of movement
except these fireflies
no enemy seen
but I get a good look
at myself
the first letter
from his girlfriend arrives
she says she’s pregnant
in the rear truck
of a long convoy
the dusty road
sugarcane fields
the beautiful countryside
swarming with snipers
concertina wire
a water buffalo
wiggles through
Concertina wire is a type of coiled barbed wire used to make it more difficult for the enemy to sneak across the lines.
sweeping the road
for antipersonnel mines
the sun gets hotter
rust colored water
not even enough
to bathe with
The scarcity of water was a permanent situation. Only commissioned officers were permitted to use water to bathe. The rest of us either had to go months on end without bathing or take our chances bathing in the shallow river where enemy snipers were often waiting. I came down with amoebic dysentery twice and was hospitalized on both occasions due to having to drink the filthy water. Medicinal plants have helped me a lot over the years, but I still suffer from colitis to this day.
heavy casualties;
I don’t give a damn about
this moon tonight
survivors in small boats
looking for a new place to live
the war drags on and on
minute by minute
hour after hour
the days go by
filling sand bags in the hot sun
soul brothers singing
soul music
Filling sand bags under a hot sun in high humidity was a frequent activity. They were used mainly to build new bunkers or fortify old ones. They were also used to hold down the tin roofs of Quonset huts during the monsoons.
because of this war
I become close friends
with an American Indian
men
killing
men
it’s quite impossible
to kill all of them —
mosquitoes attack!
Many of the mosquitoes carried malaria and other nasty tropical diseases.
crickets stop chirping
I awake
with a start!
that fat rat just stares
inside the bunker
in the candlelight
my bayonet gleams
War is HELL!
Along the DMZ
not one flower
(Khe Sahn)
The DMZ (Demilitarized Zone) separated North Vietnam from South Vietnam. The area was an eerie sight like the cratered surface of the moon. All vegetation had been destroyed by the bombing and use of chemical defoliants.
peace symbol
and the word LOVE
on his helmet
village off limits
she’s glad
I came
Tet:
both armies
wet
Tet is the month of the Vietnamese New Year and Buddhist religious celebrations and observances according to the old agrarian lunar calendar. A time of strength and strong beliefs. The Viet Cong launched their bloodiest attacks and offensives during this time. I had the misfortune of having to experience two Tets. It also marks the short but intense rainy season and monsoons.
rain . . .
blood
& mud
rain soaked and cold
without moving an inch
I let the warm urine flow
sitting in a hole
wondering what the hell
am I doing here?
waiting in ambush . . .
our hands touch as he hands me
an extra grenade
returning to camp
with one less buddy
darkness deepens
suffering from battle fatigue,
the war came to an end
in a dream
dead bodies arrive
the soldier on duty
continues eating
Little kids yelling,
"You number One! Want boom-boom?
Want Coca-Cola?"
Boom-boom was the word they used for prostitute. They also offered bags of opium and marijuana. Absolutely nothing else except for bottles of Coke. It seems these are the three things you can find just about anywhere you go in the world even in places of extreme poverty where food and water are not available.
my 21st birthday
oh how I’ve aged
this past year
(February 9, 1969)
dawn
only ONE man
dead
waiting for a flight out
I watch several new men arrive
and a tear appears
Written on my last day in Vietnam while waiting on the airstrip.
the crying boy
just can’t understand why
I broke his toy machine gun
I’m now back in the United States again.
Memorial Day service —
a young man prays hard
handless
shaking his cup
of coins with vehemence
the crippled vet
All work is copyrighted by Ty Hadman and should not be reproduced without permission.
MARINE BOOT CAMP HAIKU - Ty Hadman
A presentation of Ty Hadman's work as part of the haikumania War Crimes Project we present "Marine Boot Camp Haiku". This piece gives us a real feeling of the often brutal Boot Camp culture that even now prevails in armies around the world. - Paul Conneally
MARINE BOOT CAMP HAIKU
Ty Hadman
Taking the oath;
"I promise to serve GOD
and my country."
standing on a set
of yellow painted footprints
there’s no turning back
These footprints were to indicate where the new draftees and recruits had to stand in line while
waiting to get our heads shaved.
our hair is gone
in a matter of minutes
we look like pathetic monks
on a bus to the barracks
no one is allowed to speak
a single word
second week of training
the damn D.I. nicknames me
"Scarecrow!"
D.I. stands for Drill Instructor.
an exhausting day
the man beaten up badly
stifles sobs after taps
Taps refers to the time of rest, after "lights out!" Sometimes a sad bugle is played.
lights on at 4 a.m.
the last man out of bed
gets a boot in the butt
chow hall
four minutes
for breakfast
A chow hall is a military cafeteria.
120 men
take a piss in 42 seconds
"two seconds too slow ladies!"
standing at attention
hour after hour in the heat
no one moves an inch
today we were allowed
to smoke just one cigarette
everyone is miserable
daytime
worse than the worst
nightmare
parade grounds
our heels thundering in unison
music to the D.I.’s ears
The parade grounds is the place where military marches and inspections are held.
pugil stick drill:
Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!
Kill! Kill! Kill!
Pugil sticks are used in training men to fight with a bayonet attached to the front end of a rifle in
hand-to-hand combat.
climbing up the rope
by the time I reach the top
my penis is hard
twice today I was called
a slimy dick cock sucking
son-of-a-bitch of a bastard!
standing guard duty
the D.I. hiding inside
the dipsty-dumpster
the D.I. just waiting
for me to make a mistake
his sadistic eyes
"Scarecrow! Stand up
with your arms straight out
until I say you can move"
have an upset stomach,
complain, get punched in the gut,
then puke my guts out
fourth week on the rifle range
I ain’t gettin’ Maggie’s drawers
no more
Maggie’s drawers is the name of the flag that is waved when the marksman completely
misses the target.
qualifying with the M-14
my eye and the bull’s-eye
become one
The M-14 is a military rifle. The M-16 was mostly used in Vietnam, but a few soldiers
preferred the heavier, but more accurate M-14.
Final Inspection:
the fly on my nose refuses
to leave me alone
Graduation Day:
for the very first time the D.I.
calls us Marines
All work is copyright Ty Hadman and should not be reproduced without permission.