Cold Comfort

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