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No lesson's learnt, no world to care.
The air is still, where once a shrill.
Death danced and searched, for men to kill.
Rows of crosses, on a hill.
Inter the bone's, but not the will.
Righteous son's, a quest to fill.
Upheld the gun, more men to kill.
One doctrine cries all men to follow.
Empty word's, that seem so hollow.
Praise's peace, but love's the sorrow.
Rob's a mother's, sweet tomorrow's.
Oh mother's son's, and daughter's too.
Unleash the gun, before anew.
Remiss and sorrow, for the few.
Uphold in likeness, reminders of you.
All country's suffer, man's great shame.
The clash of arms, to suite a name.
With colors too, it's still a game.
Outcomes claim one's view of fame.
Oh righteous few, if but you knew.
The blood you spilt, and how we grew.
For your estate, with morning dew.
In ruins lie, for all to rue.
Take care my children, lest you bide.
With history's wind, and changing tide.
A rush to arm's, like morning ride.
Or Flander's fields, you will reside.
Chris Hanley Oceanside, CA. 92056
our veterans ~ of all our wars and conflicts.
"We Thank You, One and All"
Poems |