The War

[irishman]

The War
(Vietnam)

l
Though nOBle the cause,
There is no applause,
For our heroes gone to war;

Many have died,
Families have cried,
And asked “What is it all for?”

From death comes life,
And freedom from strife,
For liberty has a price;

Many lives are rearranged,
But freedom’s price has never changed,
And death has never been nice.


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We make them heroes after they die,
But the living we seem to ignore;
We think of them with a teary eye,
Only after they’ve gone on before.

As our boys are sent overseas,
Far from their native land;
We hear the echo’s and the pleas,
As they lie dying in the sand.

The sounds of war
Fill the air,
Bursting bombs,
But do we care?

The sOBs and groans
Of wounded men,
The flash of cameras,
The writer’s pen;

All of these
And much, much more
Fill the air
With sounds of war.

lll.
Returning home to chaotic state,
Proud heads hung in shame;
No glory for the soldier’s plight,
No honor for his name.

Drugs run rampant in the streets
Rioting and looting prevails,
Our men died for only this?
To this the victory pales.

Oh America where are you?
Where has the glory gone?
What happened to the “land of the free”?
What mayhem did we spawn?

Families torn, babies born,
And what is it all for?
Children sleep, wives weep
The hurt is to the core.

“It’s good to be home”
The soldier said,
Returning from the hellish war
And leaving behind his dead.



lV.
But where is “home”
To the forlorn gnome,
Who traversed land and sea?

It’s a different place,
With a gruesome face--
Not where I long to be.

Home is a place, lost in time,
A fantasy of historical clime;
Yesterday’s memories lost;

But it is still home to one,
When all is said and all is done,
And it comes with great cost.

[JerryNumbers]

I lkie it, and its true.