I’ve done it again!
Another damned tear has leaked from my eye.
It happens whenever
the rest of the world makes me remember!
I served, but I never was
So even George Bush said
my service was second rate.
Oh, I know, it was a necessary way
for our country to save money,
You know cut the benefits they promised by
having politicians add a ling list of reasons to exclude us.
But What the Hell!
They can keep their damned pills
and bandages, and whatever else I might need in the future.
I served too and they got years of my life.
I guess I’m lucky someone didn’t take that!
So Screw George Bush and all of his
Ass-Kissing political partners,
and their soul can go to their own
special Hell when they die!
My problem is the memories.
of my old buddies I grew up with.
and my cousins and uncles.
all of whom served.
You don’t know them, yourself.
They died over there, in a lonely ditch
or on a booby-trapped road
or crouched in a ditch.
All of them didn’t die over there
some came back with pieces
of their young bodies still ground
into the mud of the jungle where they fell.
And, they came back and they looked OK at first glance.
That is, until you looked closely into their eyes
over a beer one night
and saw the fear and insanity being held back
by flimsy bars of a willpower overly tested.
Bars that were bound to break sooner or later.
Some just drank too much,
MY best buddy just drove his bike into an embankment
on a lonely road one summers night.
My cousin, untrained,
was give the job of bagging body parts
for over two years.
He just didn’t sleep anymore without drugs.
The list is long, and they are long gone
even most of the ones who came back.
But that damned tear keeps slipping
from my eye.
every time you make me remember.
Who do I curse for that?