The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers. (delascabezas) wrote,
The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers.

from @ 8/21/2002 04:04:54 PM

Bold men in trench coats swarm
like flies up a ramp to hell.
Some fall back and try
again - others just fall.
Eyes staring but not seeing,
mouths open yet not speaking.
Shaking, trembling,
shivering, line after line they file.
Don't question just do -
'Your Country Needs You'!

A fog descends, an eerie mist

that the sun cannot burn away.
No ordinary fog is this - it
makes men cough, choke, and cry.
Boyhood dreams have become
mans' nightmares.
Reassuring mothers there are
none, to nurse and protect
their brave young

A drifting sea of haze gives

way to a glowing light.
Thoughts of home and safety
entwined with thoughts of dread.
Mixed emotions that can't be
fathomed, swirl around inside their head.
Strong hands reach out to comfort,
like anaesthesia they help ease pain.
Sleep is calling - its power
almost stirs them to rise and try again.

Night arrives, but this is no

ordinary night - dawn does not appear.
Coarse blankets that had
covered keep cold away no more,
Tranquillity has descended and
has banished the canons roar.
Peace is overwhelming, a
peace so deep and calm.
It lifts the spirit upward to
a place not cold but warm.

Bold men in trench coats march
in time, on their way to..

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