May 132010
 

He was just standin there,
didn't know enough to hide.
I'm just like him, I'm thinkin;
just on the other side.

Saw him as clear as I see you.
That's how damn close I was!
I thought, what happens now
depends on what he does.

Damn, he's as young as me!
… can't be one day more,
and here we are, both stuck
in this stinkin hellish war!

Hey kraut, I just kept thinkin,
“There's still time to get away.
You could have a good long life
… unless you turn my way.”

He coulda been my friend
in a different place and time.
But now the awful truth is;
it's his life … or mine.

He was just gazin at the sunset,
drinkin all God's beauty in,
all lifted up and glowin
like a pretty church-book hymn.

Dear Jesus, what's he doin'
standin there like that so calm?
Can't he hear them big tanks movin
and the blasts of them big bombs?

You ain't on no vacation
in these green eye-talian hills.
You're an enemy German soldier
who I damn well swore to kill.

Man, can't you feel me here
just a stone throw to your right?
I'm lyin in this soft green grass
and I have you in my sites!

This filthy war'll soon be done
and I don't wanta kill no more.
So show your back and go
or I must add you to my score.

Do somethin and do it now.
Turn left and walk them feet away
cause I'll sure as hell shoot you
if you choose to look my way!

No! Stop! Turn left, not right
or you're gonna find me here!
Man, don't point that thing at me
… our lives are much too dear.


Note: This note is for those of you who are not old enough to remember World War Two, or don't know its history. Great armies fought each other throughout Europe, including Italy. There were huge numbers of casualties among U.S. troops and our allies during the successful campaign to defeat the Germans. Many of the most vicious battles took place in the green hills of Italy—where before and after the war people lived nice peaceful lives and where thousands of tourists still visit today.

This takes place when it was clear that Germany could not possibly win and the war would soon be over.

 May 13, 2010
Sep 052009
 

Guns and lilies on fields of honor
grow where souls of men collide,
when duty and honor call the charge
and courage marks their stride.

It is against the hideous plans
of dangerously powerful men
that our good and brave go forth
to defeat their malicious ends.

Our brothers and our sons, we call
—our nephews and our friends.
These dear ones to us all are
who we always choose to send.

From their youthful dreams we snatch
them up and ask them to kill or die,
to endure horrors we shall never know
after we have said goodbye.

Yes, it’s true, honor can be found on
the fields where guns and lilies grow,
where our boys, now men, will surely
learn things we shall never know.

Yet, are we merely left to dream of them,
to pray for them, the boys we send to war?
Can we not some day, some way, the reason
or the wisdom find to finally say no more?

 September 5, 2009
Feb 282007
 

They advance across flowered fields of hope,
crushing the lovely, quivering, petals of life.
Compelled by their ancestral holy-warrior blood,
as ancient as the devil’s purpose, they follow
their grotesquely evil marching orders–their
narrow intention to make us theirs–or should that fail,
to murder us. It is their holy song of death.

Yet do not quake in their presence or be enticed
by their glory words. For inside their tortured
vision of hate lay the seeds of their own destruction.
Without sentient, caring hearts, they cannot know us
or measure our strength. Feel strong in their presence
for they advance toward their inevitable defeat as they
march toward the seductive, open arms of death.

For greater dreams than theirs shall meet and defeat
them on these lovely, innocent fields of hope and they
shall be turned away once more by greater warriors,
courageous defenders of all free people, everywhere.

 February 28, 2007
Oct 172006
 

I’m watching television—a Vietnam War documentary. It’s about the cruelty, the insanity of war. People weep. A wife of an American Vietnam War veteran says her husband’s name is not on the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. She says it should be. She says he went into their garage one day and shot himself and left her a note that said, “I love you, sweetheart, but I can’t take the flashbacks anymore.” So his name should be on the wall, she says. I agree and I sit here and I weep.

 October 17, 2006
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