Michael J. Kavanagh

Michael J. Kavanagh




Michael’s parents served in the Royal Canadian Air Force during WW2. Both were Sergeants and met in the Sergeants Mess. His father, a multi engine pilot, sustained multiple injuries in an accident in England in 1944, which ended his flying career, and his mother was in communications.

From January 1965 until March 1974 Michael served in the Canadian Army Signal Corps. His service including a tour of duty in Germany with 4 Brigade and in Cyprus with UN and his last posting was as a radio operator with the 3 PPCLI (Infantry) in Victoria, BC.

After the army, Michael tried different jobs in construction, trucking, and real estate. He finally settled on driving city transit buses in Victoria, BC for 30 years, and has recently retired. He is currently doing security guard work with the Commissionaires in Victoria, BC.

Michael also writes songs, which can be heard on his MySpace Blog. Vikki Flawith, Michael’s partner, also maintains a MySpace Blog and their first CD is available for sale on the CD Baby website. Michael also has a home business site called NetServiceBox

THE WAR VETERAN’S CHILD

The shooting stops but the war’s
not over for the soldier.
It doesn’t end till death takes away
memories of battles past
that took away a youngster’s trust
in human federated empires.

Memories of gunfire, struggle, shouted threats
not idle, but really in your face
look and smell and feel of hate,
determined wish to violate, annihilate,
destroy, stomp out lovely life,
and childish feelings of tenderness that last.

Sullen silent brooding
menace: glare, scowl,
followed by a shock,
sudden outburst of fury, rage, and hate
in an exploding violent orgy of lust
for the lash, then climax.

It’s over, satisfied,
followed by a period of remorse,
peaceful serenity and love.
He tells himself,

“Life is great, I survived.
Get drunk, celebrate. I’m alive.”

This is really lunacy to the child,
bruised, confused, bewildered.
“Why? What did I do to deserve this?”
Rationalize. “Maybe I deserve it. I’m no good
for some unknown reason.”
Till one day he’s had enough and decides,

“I’m out of here,” and tells himself,

“Life is great, I survived,
get drunk, celebrate, I’m alive.”

Author’s Note: For Simone