Thursday, May 25, 2017

Blood and Tattoos

Blood and Tattoos 

Black ink like my heart
Covers my skin 
Covers my scars
Brings me back again
To all those dreams
That became my lies
Another day 
Another life

Blood and tattoos 
Whiskey and you
The pain it hurts
But it keeps me true
I'd try to forget
But I can't undo
This blood and tattoos
Whiskey and you

The years have passed
And your still there
In my mind 
In my stare 
I drive all night
I drive all day 
I try and I try
But I can't escape

Blood and tattoos 
Whiskey and you
The pain it hurts
But it keeps me true
I'd try to forget 
But I can't undo
So it's blood and tattoos
Whiskey and you

The birds they sing
Of a brighter day
So I get them tattooed
To carry me away
But not to you
Cause I know the truth
Dreams they really don't come true

It's blood and tattoos 
Whiskey and you
The pain it hurts
But it keeps me true
I'd try to forget
But I can't undo
This blood and tattoos
Whiskey and you
Yeah it's blood and tattoos

And memories of you 

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Cadences

Oh mama mama can't you see
What the Army's done for me
They made me, not me
They changed me
You can't see me
You don't know me
There is no me, only we

What kind of soldiers are there?
The quick and the dead
What are you? The quick!
What are they? The dead!
The cadence stays the same
As they drill death into your head
Death of the enemy
Death of your friend
Death of your mother
Death of your lover
Death of your self
But in the end the only real death is your innocence 

Left right left right left right kill
Left right left you know I will
Trained to kill 
Kill a father
Kill a sister
Kill a haji 
Kill anyone that gets in your way
But bit by bit, soldier by soldier, we keep killing ourselves as well
And for what or for who

How does the green grass grow
Blood blood blood drill sergeant 
Who's blood
Our blood
The poor's blood
A farmers blood 
Innocent blood
But not the blood of the rich
Nor the blood of a politician

C130 Rollin down the strip
Recon scouts on a one way trip
They said fight for your country
Fight for the flag
Fight for your brothers
Fight for patriotism
They don't care what you fight for 
Just that you do
And they'll use your death so others can fight too

If I die in a combat zone
Box me up and ship me home
Pin my medals upon my chest 
Tell my mama I did my best
Or maybe tell her the truth
That I died for a bullshit war
That I died so some asshole could get rich
That I died in vein
That I died when I enlisted 
That I died before I went to war

And I'll never come back, even if I live

Desert Love

As the leaves quake
A wind whispers across the sky
The sunrise takes shape
Reds, yellows, oranges 
God's paintbrush, man's passion
Dreaming beyond the horizon 
New lands, new sunsets
Forever moving forward
The stream flows until it is dry
The savagery of the desert consumes all
But life flourishes in death
Darkness gives way to light
And all begins anew
Like me and you

Current state of affairs...

Years of fear have brought us here
Anger grew to hate
No one listens, no one talks 
Now we fear our fate

Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles
We're all torn apart
Everything we're supposed to love
We somehow have forgot

Until we listen we will not know
What others talk about
Stop the brain stop the pain
And listen with your heart

The walls must fall that divide us all
That keep us far apart
Bridges heal, bridges grow 
Give us a new start

So stop the tears, and stop the fears
We need something new
Building love, building trust
building what is true

So take my hand we'll march together
Fight to live a new forever
Here for you, here for me
Here for all those that will be

And when we win, they will know
We fought with all our heart and soul
Fought for justice, Fought for life
Always fighting for what's right

Thursday, July 7, 2016

New Website

So I have a new website... Mostly for my academic profile, but I also have a blog over there as well and will likely use it more than this one. Check it out here: www.ben-schrader.com

Whiskey Blanket

I'd like to drown in the shadows
But the whiskey keeps me afloat
I wish you weren't in every god damned thought
It's its own darkness
It's my own curse
And every day it just gets worse
So I drink to stay alive
Drink to forget
At the end of the day, the drinks all I get

Cause I yearn to live, but long to die
With every drink, I try and try
To drown you out, but still I sink
Cause about me, you no longer think
So I return to the one thing that I know
My whiskey blanket that keeps me warm

The bottom of a bottle is where I'll be
But please don't feel sorry for me
Cause I paved my road
I made my bed
Someday soon I hope to make my amends

And I yearn to live, but long to die
With every drink, I try and try
To drown you out, but still I sink
About me, you no longer think
So I return to the one thing that I know
My whiskey blanket that keeps me warm

Now I awake, cold and alone
My head hurts and you're still gone
So I drag myself back to the pub
Knowing now, that I fucked up
And one more drink, is not enough

Now I yearn to live, but long to die
With every drink, I try and try
To drown you out, but still I sink
Cause about me, you no longer think
So I return to the one thing that I know
My whiskey blanket that keeps me warm

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

The Bullet and the Gun

The bullet and the gun, copper and steel, the squeeze of the trigger, the rush of adrenaline.
We're taught the bullet and the gun is an extension of us, reach out and touch someone they say.
In Iraq, the bullet and the gun was a way of life, here it most surely means my death. 
Over there the bullet and the gun plays politics with innocent lives, while at home the innocence lost is realized.
In war it is a shame when the bullet and the gun go unused, in peace it is a tragedy when it is.
The bullet and the gun, once so easy to use, now seems like an only option. 
I once felt safe with the bullet and the gun, now their coldness dangerously caress my lips. 
I thought the bullet and the gun was to protect them, but now I think it is to end to the misery I have caused them. 
22 brothers and sisters find refuge in the bullet and the gun everyday, I fight everyday to not be one of them.
And yet the bullet and the gun calls like a siren in the night, tempting to be used while screaming "why" to the flashing of red and blue lights.
The bullet and th... 

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Excerpt from Tiqqun’s: This is not a Program

“Contrary to what THEY have told us, the warrior is not a figure of plentitude, and certainly not of virile plentitude. The warrior is a figure of amputation. The warrior is a being who feels he exists only through combat, through confrontation with the Other, a being who is unable to obtain for himself the feeling of existing… The warrior is in fact driven by a desire, and perhaps one sole desire: the desire to disappear. The warrior no longer want to be, but wants his disappearance to have a certain style. He wants to humanize his vocation for death. That is why he never really manages to mix with the rest of humankind: they are spontaneously wary of his movement toward Nothingness. In their admiration for the warrior can be measured the distance they impose between him and them. The warrior is thus condemned to be alone. This leaves him greatly dissatisfied, dissatisfied because he is unable to belong to any community other than the false community, the terrible community, of warriors who have only their solitude in common. Prestige, recognition, glory are less the prerogative of the warrior than the only form of relationship compatible with his solitude. His solitude is at once his salvation and his damnation.

The Warrior is a figure of anxiety and devastation. Because he isn’t present, is only for-death, his immanence has become miserable, and he knows it. He has never gotten used to the world, so he has no attachment to it; he awaits its end. But there is also a tenderness, even a gentleness about the warrior, which is this silence, this half-presence. If he isn’t present, it is often because otherwise he would only drag those around him into the abyss. That is how the warrior loves: by preserving others from the death he has at heart. Instead of the company of others, he thus often prefers to be alone, and this is more out of kindness than disgust. Or else he joins the grief-stricken pack of warriors who watch each other slide one by one towards death. Because such is their inclination.


In a sense, the society to which the warrior belongs cannot help but distrust him. It doesn’t exclude him nor really include him; it excludes him through its inclusion and includes him through its exclusion. The ground of their mutual understanding is recognition. In according him prestige society keeps the warrior at a distance, attaching itself to him and by the same token condemning him…”

Saturday, July 26, 2014

A Train at Sunset


As the train rattles through the countryside I look out upon the fields of green and the purple mountains off in the distance. My mind takes in the beauty of this ancient feeling place. As the sun prepares to set the sky shimmers with red, pink, purple and blue. We slowly roll up to a farm in which an old man, lean yet sturdy, puts down his hoe and rests it against his shoulder. He looks up at the train and wipes his brow, and from under his hat you can see a slight reflection of his eyes as they catch the sight of the train. He raises his hand and starts to wave at the train. My mind begins to wonder, what is this old man waving at? Am I the only one who sees this? Is he waving at me?

            His hand moves slowly back and forth as if he sees someone he knows. Perhaps a child on the train waving at him, or maybe a loved one who will be getting off at the next stop. Maybe danger lies ahead and like a grim reaper he is bidding us farewell from this plane of existence, or maybe just me. The old man continues to wave expressionless as the train rolls by. Perhaps he waves at all the trains. Like a child seeing a train, running next to it waving at the conductor, hoping for a whistle. Has this man lived here his whole life? Digging in the field, waving at passing trains. His old eyes have seen much, seen many passing trains, some with people on it, some with cargo. Does he wave at the trains with no one on them, or does he hope for someone to see him and wave back, to remember him. Is he alone? When war saw this land he was a young man. Did he fight? Did he hide? Did he lose his family?


            I open my eyes and look out the window to the fields of green and purple mountains in the far distance. I look for the waving old man but cannot find him. Was I asleep and dreaming? It felt so real. Perhaps he was a figment of my imagination. As the train rounds the bend I look out and see the old man standing there, but this time he is not waving he just stares, holding the hoe staring at the train, staring at me.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Veterans' Day 2013


As we approach Veterans’ Day, my stomach turns as it normally does this time of year, for the longest time I wasn’t exactly sure why Veterans’ Day bothered me so much. At times I thought that it was just a push back against the Army, but I think I have finally put my finger on it. It’s not that I hated my experience in the military because that would be a lie, since there were amazing aspects, and I would do it all again since it made me into the person I am today. Yeah perhaps I would change a thing or two but that is neither here nor there, I realized that what disturbs me is not the military but rather society that disturbs me so much.
            Some of it is the blind fascist patriotism that comes with Veterans’ Day, not of the vets, but as I said, of society. Sure some vets display this blind patriotism as they see themselves as some kind of hero, but those are mostly the REMF’s (Rear Echelon Mother Fuckers) and the Fobbits (people who never leave base when deployed). Yes, I value these soldiers just as much, and I have no doubt that these folks can be just as traumatized by war as those of us who were outside the wire everyday getting blown up and shot at everyday, but there is something different that happens when your life is on the line everyday, you get a different perspective, you become a turtle, most of those who do not deal with that constant level of violence, well they are ducks. Turtles have that hard shell and know when to duck and cover in it. Ducks follow the leader no matter where the leader goes, no matter how incompetent the leader is… the duck follows. This analogy can be applied in multiple areas of life, and there are many, who have never seen this sort of violence but are born turtles (they are very few and far between though), but again I digress and that is neither here nor there.
            Returning to this blind fascist patriotism in Veterans’ Day. It is blind because it is something that never gets examined. Why are you thanking a Veteran? Many say some reason like, “thanks for fighting for our freedom.” Really? I fought for your freedom? Or was I really fighting so some military contractor can maintain their billion-dollar contract, or so that oil companies can maintain their ties to the Middle East, or so that some politician could get reelected. Yeah I wasn’t consciously fighting for those things, but in the end that’s why we are there. Not for your freedom, which by the way is another thing that really pisses me off.
            Many of the people who thank vets for fighting for their freedom are assholes. In all honesty, if I was fighting for your freedom, if there was some tyrannical evil enemy that truly threatened the US and I had to fight them, I sure as shit wouldn’t be doing it for YOUR freedom, because you want to have the freedom to say stupid racist shit, or because you want the freedom to trash our environment, or because you want the freedom to do whatever the fuck you want because you are a privileged dumbass American. Fuck that, that is definitely not something I would ever fight for. Sadly, that is what I see when I look around America today. Yes there are a lot of great people doing great things; I am fighting for them, not for dumb rednecks, not for people who don’t want to pay taxes. You don’t want to pay taxes, move to Rwanda.
            I got out of the military and continued to fight, just not with a weapon anymore, but rather through activism and through education. Do you know who my enemy is now? It’s those in this country who would rather destroy it than make it better. My enemy is those who care more about their own personal gain than the betterment of the community. My enemy is those who lie, cheat, and steal from their fellow citizen in order to get ahead. No the government is not my enemy, but there are many within it and around it that could be seen as my enemy. We need a higher standard of how we live our lives, how we talk to others, and how we manage our communities.
            I would rather be thanked for what I do now, rather than what I did while I was in the military. I am ashamed of what I did in the military. I’m ashamed of what the military has done, and is still doing. I’m not angry or upset with the soldiers, except those who have no moral consciousness and/or think that it’s ok to assault those within its own ranks, no I am mad at those who are in charge in the military. Most of the enlisted soldiers are there because they didn’t have much of a choice, whether they realize it or not. Yes, thank you for serving your country, but not for fighting in the bullshit wars overseas. Everyone should serve their community and/or country in some way, it doesn’t have to be in the military, in fact I think it would be better if it weren’t in the military. PeaceCorps, AmeriCorps, volunteers throughout communities, in hospitals, activists fighting for communities, thank those people. They are serving America.


            All Veterans’ Day is, is a way for people to pretend like they really care, to show that they are “American,” and so that they can feel good about themselves. Yeah? Well what the hell have you done for America lately? Hell what have you done for your community? Or maybe just a neighbor? Or for an actual vet? So instead of saying some hollow words, or putting a stupid yellow ribbon on your car (Which by the way, ALL VETERANS FUCKING HATE THE YELLOW RIBBON), go do something for someone other than yourself! Share the burden of being a citizen in this country. And stop being a goddamn dumb racist sexist elitist duck!