Cold comfort
Cold comfort to those who no longer breathe
lying in some rigid position until flesh becomes dust
with stilled heart that will no longer hold the soul
the roaring engines of hellfire missiles
trailing plumes of black exhaust
in mini dawns of blasted light and supersonic fragmentation warheads
to slice the meat from the bones of the living
In an eternity to lie under the marble nondenominational marker
in the blanket of silence
in this sightless world do our brothers and sisters now inhabit
the whining transmission as a sixty ton ship of the desert dead stops
encased in flames from the penetrator shaped weapon
powered by 500 lbs of US manufactured propellent
as 60 year old designed Kalashnikovas' make sure that one one gets out alive
No one returns to their loved ones
in stately rows upon rolling hills in the bright and shining city
their lives prematurely extinguished when they heeded a call to duty and not to life
in the stinking Port-O-Lets that bakes their shit to bricks
never to be certain of the random falling whine of 60mm mortar rounds
wearing their dragon skin armor whenever they walk in the open
never sure of the sniper or radio controlled explosive to take their life or limb
In the house of white under a cloudless pallid depthless azure sky
a man sitting, reading nothing, seeing nothing but ranting in his mind
who has the power to yoke our lives to his reality of good versus evil
