Poetry

Promises Not Kept

Whose war is this i think i know
He's watching as his stocks all grow
He will not care that we are here
With broken bodies, pain and fear

You and i might find him queer
Life means nothing and money's dear
He thanks us and we know its fake
He shows concern-our hand he'll shake

He says he cares our votes to rake
Once elected there's some mistake
He votes for everything but Vets
He sells us out with no regrets

It's up to us to weed him out
And others like him we must route
We must get them out of power
We must not wait - now is the hour

It's time to take our freedoms back
To put our country back on track
It's time to elect those who are true
And by voting stage a coup

It's time to make the press aware
That politicians just don't care
We must unite and fight the fight
Spread the word about our plight

We will no longer act like sheep
Tho the way is lonely dark and steep
We have promises to keep
And miles to go before we sleep

The Soldier stood and faced God

Which must always come to pass

He hoped his shoes were shinning

Just as brightly as his brass

Step forward now Soldier

How shall I deal with You?

Have you always turned the other cheek?

To my church have you been true?

The Soldier squared his shoulders

said, no Lord, I guess I ain't, Because

those of us who carry guns, can't

always be saints

I've had to work most sundays

and at times my talk was tough

and sometimes I've been violent

because the world is awfully rough

But I never took a penny

that wasn't mine to keep

though I worked a lot of overtime

when the bills got just too steep

And I never passed a cry for help

Though at times I shook with fear

and sometimes, God forgive me

I wept unmanly tears

I know I don't deserve a place

Among the people here

They never wanted me around

except to calm their fears

If You have a place for me here, Lord

It needn't be so grand

I never expected or had to much

but if You don't, I'll understand

There was silence all around the throne

Where the saints had often trod

As the Soldier waited quietly

for the judgment of his God

Step forward now, you Vietnam Vet Soldier

You've borne your burdens well

Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets

You've done your time in Hell.

THE MARINE

We all came together,

Both young and old.

To fight for our freedom,

To stand and be bold.

n the midst of all evil,

We stand our ground,

And we protect our country

From all terror around.

Peace and not war,

Is what some people say.

But I'll give my life,

So you can live the American way.

I give you the right

To talk of your peace.

To stand in your groups,

And protest in our streets.

But still I fight on,

I don't bitch,

I don't whine.

I'm just one of the people

Who is doing your time.

I'm harder than nails,

Stronger than any machine.

I'm the immortal soldier,

I'm a US MARINE!

So stand in my shoes,

And leave from your home.

Fight for the people who hate you,

With the protests they've shown.

Fight for the stranger,

Fight for the young.

So they all may have,

The greatest freedom you've won.

Fight for the sick,

Fight for the poor.

Fight for the cripple,

Who lives next door.

But when your time comes,

Do what I've done.

For if you stand up for freedom,

You'll stand when the fight's done.

By: Corporal Aaron M. Gilbert

US Marine USS SAIPAN, Persian Gulf

"The Land of the Free,

Because of the Brave"

Poetic Justice

Russ Vaughn
2d Bn, 327th Parachute Infantry

Regiment, 101st Airborne Division

You media pansies may squeal and may squirm,
But a fighting man knows that the way to confirm
That some jihadist bastard is truly dead,
Is a brain-tappin' round fired into his head.

To hell with some wienie with his journalist degree
Safe away from the combat, tryin' to tell me
I should check him for breathing, examine his eyes.
Nope, I'm punchin' his ticket to Muj paradise.

To hell with you wimps from your Ivy League schools,
Sittin' far from the war tellin' me about rules.
And preaching to me your wrong-headed contention
That I should observe the Geneva Convention,

Which doesn't apply to a terrorist scum
so evil and cruel their own people run from,
Cold-blooded killers who love to behead,
Shove that mother' Geneva, I'm leaving em dead.

You slick talking heads may preach, preen and prattle,
But you're damn well not here in the thick of the battle.
It's chaotic, confusing, It all comes at you fast,
So it's Muj checking out, because I'm going to last.

Yeah, I'll last through this fight and send his ass away
To his fat ugly virgins while I'm still in play.
If you journalist wienies think that's cold, cruel and crass,
Then pucker up sweeties. Kiss a fighting man's ass.