Robin Amy Bass


Post Traumatic Stress Disorder;
Another gift of war
Doesn’t show up right away.
I’m left to explore

How it rears its ugly head
In the light of day
After breakfast – takes a bite
Then it backs away

It is like a ping pong game
Ball goes to and fro
You say that’s the way it is
Likes to come and go

Day begins and all is well
You say come around
Stop by in the afternoon
We can go to town

I begin to make my plans
I pick out my dress
I want to look beautiful
I want to impress

As I start to make my way
Over to your place
Cell phone rings – I hear your voice,
“I’m in a bad space.”

I look at my new red shoes
I’ve just washed my hair
Wait to see if we are on
If you want me there

Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome
Call it PTSD
Long or short – it steals from us
Takes from you and me

What it will when it will
Sometimes it devours
And when it has had its fill
It can sleep for hours

I pray it’s asleep for good
I pray that it’s dead.
This disease of heart and soul
I have come to dread

It shows up when it is bored
And it wants to play
A persistent parasite
It won’t go away

Time we should be spending here
Time we should have fun
Vietnam was long ago
Vietnam is done

It ain’t over I am told
till some fat lady sings
Some things do not have a cure
And there are many things

That I’m truly grateful for
At least you are here
Many brothers rest in peace
Let me make it clear

I will take you as you are
With your PTSD
I am waiting by the phone
I will wait and see

When you’re ready, I will come
Sit and watch you smoke
You should really give that up
It sounds like a joke

And you laugh – you start to smile
Funny – you can be
Imitate a poster boy
With his PTSD

“Though I’ve got this PTSD,
I am now smoke-free.
I’m a walking miracle;
Smoke-free stress-filled me”

And I know just what you mean
Think inside my head
Chain smoke to your heart’s delight
Chain smoke until it’s dead

If it kills the PTSD
Chain smoke until you’re high
Stomp out nightmares and the chills
Give it a black eye.

There’s that fat lady over there
She has gained a pound
If she’s singing – I can’t hear,
Not a single sound.

I am watching you instead
You come close to me
“You look pretty in that dress.
Come and be with me.”

Still it lingers in the air
Fucking PTSD

Stay real close and it may go
It may leave us be
It is a ménage de trio
On the bed we three

Three’s a crowd – I know you know
How I hate to share
The spotlight with that crafty witch
She does not fight fair

I have brought a comedy
Funny DVD
But she wins – I’m forced to watch
The Tale of PTSD

I would rather see instead
An angel sent with wings
Whisk away your tears and pain;
Still, no lady sings

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
Stays until it goes
Guess I’ll have to wait it out
Angle of repose

I will catch it way off guard
I have got a scheme
I will sneak behind its back.
But I will not scream
I have learned a thing or two
From my tall Marine.

I believe love will kill it dead
So I am going to try.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder!
Time to say goodbye