On Patrol

I have no faith that humanity will ever evolve sufficiently to understand that war is not necessary, and is an expensive rage against reason. Still, a pretty tank, me thinks.

The Children

explain to me

you smilers

and knowers

of truth

you who have mastered

right and wrong

explain to me

the children

crying at night

beyond comfort

they would suck their thumbs

if they had any

separated from their parents

who blew up

before their eyes

mother’s last look

father’s last touch

in pieces

while the children

lived

wishing they had died

blind, limbless, hopeless

beyond repair

explain to me

you masters of war

decision makers

widow makers

how you sleep at night

content

fat

rich

bastards

those children

would claw your eyes out

rip your guts out

claim your soul

if you had one

 

 

 

Heroes

called to service

from our great cities

and tiny towns

farmers, carpenters, fathers, and fishermen

at a time, when the risk of dying

held great purpose

and was so clearly defined

off to save the world

and our way of life

these men, boys mostly

walked for months

crawled through unspeakable horror

died in a million awful ways

leaving behind

wives

children

girlfriends

comfort

to march off

and save the world

so few left

they are all very old now

these heroes

they will tell you

they did nothing special

as they saved the world

many returned

limbless

shaken

crippled

yet prideful

respected

and loved

if you meet one

thank him

tell him you know

what he did

and who he is

tell him

he saved the world