by Antone G. Pimental
Printed by the Gronicus Press in 1969

To Pam my sister
With many thanks to Terry

The cruel war rages,
The mushroom's smoke rises high.
The world is destroyed

Antone                         R.I.  '68

And World War Three rolls on.
We had not asked to have been brought into the world:
Yet we were literally fornicated into it.
That's the way it is today.
The psychological battle of every human-being alive.
Every married man and woman know,
And every rogue waiting for the sunset,
And it never happens.
That's the way it is today.
And tomorrow, too, for that matter,
As the mushroom cloud rises.
And it's not from theAtom Bomb
Because there is no atomic war,
But mushroom's smoke still rises,
And the world struggles through the night.
That's the way it is today:
A bitter taste of life with expressionless values
So marked by unfit qualities:
Qualities of expressive materialism
And nothing is real,
To speak of, anyway.
That's the way it is today.
May we not only realize it, but accept the fact:
That nothing is permanent.
And tomorrow is non-existent,
For tomorrow will never get here,
Nor will the next chimes of the clock,
As time suddenly stops.

Antone                                Conn.  '67

The cat don't move, Ma.
Ma, I said the bastard don't move.
Can't you hear me?
Ma, Ma, Hey Ma!
Can't ya hear?, Ma?
Aint no-one able to talk?
Or move?
Hey Kitty, commere!
You deat cat?
Wake up Ma, please.

Ma, wake up! The clock's stopped!

Antone                            Conn.  '67

"Its war,
Agressive and illegitimate
                        War is beaten."
Its a nightmare,
With bombs setting trees aflare"
                        "We beat it"
"Its blood and pain
And a fight in vain
                        The Dragon in Vietnam."
"And its dark as hell.
Where the soldier fell"
                        "He's dead
For the economy of the USA
To keep you and me alive today"
The soldier
                        Hell, his final resting place.
Sadistic, beaten, and torn,
                        For some men wars beat
Because he has beaten it"
                        The Godforsaken Bombs"
                        The Bastards"
"Hell is cold

Its doors unfold
                       "They beat it."
"The soldier is dead

Cut off from his well said"
                        "War is cold!"
He is dead
          The bastard"
                        "We're screwed"
Again no pain"
                        "They screwed us"
A fight for us to remember well,
                         And furthermore that war was hell
                                      "The war"
"He's a soldier, retired;

He's beat them and he's admired"
"From the bloody shores of Vietnam

To wherever the hell I am,
                        War is beat
He, We, They beat it."

Antone                            Conn  '68


Some men have seen the glory of the coming of the war,
They have broken every treaty they have broken every law,
They have bombed in Hiroshima
They have bombed in Vietnam
Their image marches on.
Glory Glory Hiroshima
Glory Glory Hiroshima
Glory Glory Hiroshima
And glorious Viet-Cong.
They have fought for Harry Truman: they have fought for L.B.J
'Cause the words on the slogans have read "Go all the way"
Now Truman says he hates war
And Johnson says the same
Their image marches on.
Glory Glory Harry Truman
Glory Glory Lyndon Johnson
Glory Glory Truman; Johnson
Their image marches on
Mine eyes have seen the horror of the mushroom from the bomb;
All is left destructed yet it seems so peaceful calm,
Until you see the faces
Of survivors of the bomb
Their image marches on
Christ had died to make men peaceful; Christ had died to make men free
And the soldiers march the battlefields, all singing victory.
Christ had died to make men peaceful
Christ had died to make men free
Their image marches on.

Tony & Terry Pimental                                 P-Town  '68


And just how many wars have there been,
will there be, before you're home again?

With a questioning look on your face -
As you travel through miles of space
And years of unseen time -
Time for a troubled mind.
Time enough for everything.
So far away from home
With all around Unknown -
There is time for everything

Just what are you looking for -
Is it that land with no wars?

Why leave home?
Just to roam?
roam with a troubled mind
With the others left behind?
Don't you think they're worried too?
There isn't a thing you can do!

Perhaps you'll find Utopia,
You selfish, insane, bastard -
With no bombs being plastered,
No wars being fought.
It's a restful thought -
That you may find Utopia.

There are others home -
Who can't run away
They stay in their homes
And they kneel to pray -

But you know about God -
You know he isn't there.
But the others, they plod
Hands thrown up in despair!
They don't know what to believe
For it's so hard to conceive -

But you - you're away
You can see it now
You can see the day -
As through space you plow -
That life is done away with
When the earth is doomed for death.
And perhaps it will ride your conscience -
That you didn't warn them in advance -
But you left home - to space and time -
Caught with the same things on your mind.

You cannot run away you fool!
The others are ahead of you -
They already knew that:
They went and came back.

You are young now - so young and foolish
And you still think you're ahead of us.

Can't you see yourself fall
or can't you see at all?
You're the only one you fooled -
You have fooled yourself you mule!

And wonder now if it's too late -
To turn back home - and take a break.

What if you go - and it's not there?
No perhaps you were right last year.

Remember, remember when you left home -
So silently - to travel space alone?
Just where the hell are you at?
Out in the cold - and left flat.

Forget it Jack -
You're on the track -
Off the beaten orbit
Just say the hell with it.

Don't worry about it
You're off the beaten orbit.

Antone                          Va.  '68

Ever since his own creation
Man has noticed variation

Why, this world turns with prejudice
Often creating violence
From some little difference
Color of the skin
Royalty of kin
Type of religion
Background origin
And education
The money one makes
The job one takes
What some like
What some do,

But one always gets along
With someone that sings his song.

Antone                         '68  R.I.

Advancing one level,
Then stopping to breathe; respire.
And advance one level.
As spans of time pass, we tire -
And care, sometimes, not go higher.

To some of us the conquest
Is too great to let slip by,
Those of us think it best
To reach the ultimate high.

Many tire very late,
And none have made it yet.
Though in their desire -
Went level by level.

Antone                   Va. '69

A tragedy but it seems -
People mold their lives on dreams.
They sell their souls
Go in the hole,
And worse - they'll repeat the scene -
And never quite catch the theme.

And try not to look
So hard in the sky
Because you've been hooked
For it's all a lie;
There's no pie
In the Sky
When you Die -
when alive
Or anytime -
You've been so blind

Antone                    Va  '68

I try to resist the desperate song
That of the foghorn, crying all night long.
But the call of loneliness is all to strong.
And so I wander down to the sand.
And in the night draw there, a face
That no tide, no wave, will erase.

No, not even death would take
Its memory away from me.
As the shallow breakers break
And the foghorn wails again -
I will know eternity.

Antone                   Va.  '69


Love left a note upon my door
And signed it kisses by the score.
Now who is this stranger-love:
Supposed gift from above?

Why at my door come looking?
Why at my door come looking?

Where do you come from anyway -
Like a loud laughter in the day -
In the night, and all the time?
Are you there and left me blind?

Why at my door come looking?

I cannot even see you,
And perhaps I don't want to.

Why at my door come looking?

Why?  Why?  Why?
Why?  Why?  Why?

Antone                           Va. '68

When the need comes,
I'll come callin',

When the time comes,
I'll come crawlin',

Let me run, Oh, Lord let me run.

When the morn comes -
Dressed in red light

When the eve comes,
Dressed in black night,

Let me run, Oh, Lord let me run.

Antone                        Mass.  '68

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