January 25, 2019 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Lorie Shaull photo



Ben White







He was soft –

You can imagine –

Pampered, protected

With a high draft number

Unselected; unsuitable

For survival in the jungle,

And wrapped in wealth

While his health

Was summed up in bone spurs

Deferred five times –


Now, he wants a wall

He can call his own –

Put a presidential seal on it;


Own it with his name

Brand, legacy, and ego

Engraved forever

Along the border,


But it’s too late,


If he really wanted

To have his name on a wall –


A wall more important to the nation –


He should have limped

To Vietnam.






Ben White

Author of the books, Buddha Bastinado Blues and The Kill Gene, Ben White thought he was a poet, only to find out he is not a poet at all. He is a witness. What he writes is testimony.

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