A soldier’s life is
Bitter cold butter
Under a hot cutter knife
Give peace a chance!
Hey, I was fighting for our life
Clouds fell down
Heaven fell behind
Snow was no longer gentle
Not in American time
Cracks in concrete form linen beds
Less space gathers between living and dead
Sores and puss lye on wooden slats
Working men pull down their passing hats
As winter is not all that will fall
Homeless men must now crawl
Once a beacon of the soldier’s field
Whisker sprawl on cement and steel
Soldier boy, homeless man
The deserter… Uncle Sam
But I recall his warmth of words
A quatrain never better heard
“Be all that you can be”
Now I’m just a shorter me
As life runs on for miles
I’m left in world war stiles
Wrapped in urine sheets
Broken yellow teeth
Crack cocaine smile
Freedom's out of reach
If only the sun would have taken me
Into her warmth of airs
And gentle rewind my picture
Where others no longer stare
Return me alongside old statues
In white Arlington marble affair
Where the dead were never wealthy
But were rich enough to care
Back to the days of the fifties
Back to the days of past
Bach to the child within me
Back to the little blonde lass
Yes back, way back
I want to say I’m sorry
For fog rolling in on sunshine days
For all us men who can no longer walk
Though gifted with nation legs
I’m sorry for our rapture
And wars that passed our gaze
And exploding hot clouds
That hit the ground
Instead of heavens graze
I’m sorry for my failures
The bullet scabs I brought back
For all the skills it took to kill
The safe ones seem to lack
America the beautiful
Shred your flag on thee
That I have lost my soul
For God
And all humanity
And for the begging
Of your change
Forgive me now for my name
I’m sorry for my lot
And all the things you acquired
While I was busy hanging knots
For Special Forces in that special time
Hey buddy can you spare me a dime
Agent Orange is now all mine
It’s left me in this spot
Along the freeway sign
Where everyone’s forgot
That once an eagle
Holding up your flag
But now half a man
I’m not quite the same
The look toward me
Is filled with shame
Stubble’s without my knees
I wish I could return
To the younger shiny me!
“Janis Joplin”
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to do.
