There's nothing left of America for
God to bless: no matter who wins,
we all lose. Have never seen such
division - united? Hardly. Seperated
by race/culture/belief - all for one and
all for ... themselves. Certainly not
for all, because someone offends.
Want to take care of the rest of the
world, can't take care of our own --
here -- in our backyard. Compassion
gone the way of God and Christmas --
there isn't one. Not MINE, anyway,
because HE stepped on one too many
toes. Out of sight, out of mind? Seems
that way. Apathy rules the land: anger
and sadness rising faster than the stock
market's plunge into the deeps. Looking
for the Light but dim bulbs let it burn out:
and we're electing more tomorrow! They
say He's coming. NOW would be good ....
(c) 2008, Karla Dorman.
Monday, November 3, 2008
REMEMBER: For Our Veterans: Three Poems
REMEMBER: For Our Veterans: Three Poems
SERVED
Served his country. Brought home
medals to show what he did, left
his mind, his innocence behind:
it wasn't enough.
Served her Nation. Did not face
the hell of war, but paid in other
ways, with injury. Still in pain --
it wasn't enough.
SERVED. All that matters. They
didn't sacrifice to be forgotten:
what they did. What they do:
m o r e than enough.
WAR IS HELL II
... tried looking him in the eyes. Mine
keep wandering to where legs should
be. Used to tower over me, now half
my height, in a wheelchair. Thoughts
inside worm out: "Did it hurt? Do you
regret serving your country?" His reply
snaps back, as quick and razor-sharp
as a salute: "Your country, too. Better
me than you or one of your children."
WHO IS THE ENEMY - THEY OR I?
Your hatred of me runs down my
cheek, slime hawked along with a
name: Babykiller.
Your protest of me runs hot in my
veins, anger thrown like bombs
designed to maim and kill.
And yet it is perfectly acceptable
for the enemy to use their own as
incendiary devices.
And yet it is perfectly acceptable
for our men to be charged with
crimes against humanity.
The double standard must stop.
all (c) 2008, Karla Dorman.
SERVED
Served his country. Brought home
medals to show what he did, left
his mind, his innocence behind:
it wasn't enough.
Served her Nation. Did not face
the hell of war, but paid in other
ways, with injury. Still in pain --
it wasn't enough.
SERVED. All that matters. They
didn't sacrifice to be forgotten:
what they did. What they do:
m o r e than enough.
WAR IS HELL II
... tried looking him in the eyes. Mine
keep wandering to where legs should
be. Used to tower over me, now half
my height, in a wheelchair. Thoughts
inside worm out: "Did it hurt? Do you
regret serving your country?" His reply
snaps back, as quick and razor-sharp
as a salute: "Your country, too. Better
me than you or one of your children."
WHO IS THE ENEMY - THEY OR I?
Your hatred of me runs down my
cheek, slime hawked along with a
name: Babykiller.
Your protest of me runs hot in my
veins, anger thrown like bombs
designed to maim and kill.
And yet it is perfectly acceptable
for the enemy to use their own as
incendiary devices.
And yet it is perfectly acceptable
for our men to be charged with
crimes against humanity.
The double standard must stop.
all (c) 2008, Karla Dorman.
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