He flew with Doolittle against Japan
on the eighteenth of April in Forty two.
Eighty brave volunteers made that flight.
but their numbers dwindled down to you.

In postwar reunions these men would meet
And toast the fallen gone before
From silver goblets with their names inscribed,
these heroes of that distant war.

Then, when there were only two,
A vintage bottle was opened at last.
You gave the toast to vanished friends;
The faces and names from your storied past.

Now you, too, have been laid to rest
In old Marse Robert’s hallowed fields.
Once more you hold the bombers yoke
And lift off Hornet’s pitching deck.
You rise toward grey shrouded skies
upon a fearsome enterprise.

Wonder wallows
And wades awake
Watching and waiting
For a grave mistake.
Out of the dust
Comes revelation;
Out of chaos,
Revolution.
We seek and find
In solitude
And grow
In destitution.
Will we learn
What we yearn for
Only in
Absolution?

It’s easy to be the biggest wheel,
Passing out the lollipops
Stolen from the little kids.

It’s not difficult to save the world,
When the whole thing fits
Atop your breakfast table.

It’s not so hard to be a hero
When your uncle runs the war
And stations you in Malibu.

It’s a cinch to win the prize
When daddy buys up all the tickets
And mom will draw the numbers.

What’s really hard is to grow up
And be a man of principle
A man who does the thing that’s good
Even though no one will see
And crowds will not shout out his name.

To be a man who does the work
To see his vision through
Without expecting miracles
To make his dreams come true.

The world is waiting for this man
It may not even be a male
But someone with a Hero’s heart
Who isn’t bought with promised gold
And only cares to do what’s right.

Hopefully that person will be found
Before the final trumpets sounds
ljm

Look at this cat he has all the letters.
Parades them around like some kind of peacock feathers.

The letters say he has earned the right.
To tell you what's a worthy plight.
To eat, sleep, and love this way.
Dont' do  as I do, just do as I say!
The letters say he can speak that way.

Big or small he knows them all.
Life, numbers, why does an apple fall
Ask him and he will say, "yes, I know that too".
Heck, I bet he can describe the color blue
to a blind man to boot!

"You shouldn't do this and definitely not that.
You should use maple for your baseball bat.
I should know I played minor league ball.
Well, before I got these letters and all."

He will tell you how hard he worked
and how much he has learned.
Swearing he knows best
and stealing everyone's turn.

After the blubbering, blabbering,
pomp and circumstance.
I came away saying
" am not sure this guy has a chance?"

It's not the letters you have but the words you say
To not have all the answers is OK
It's always pride before the fall.
....and your letters are the least
of them all.

I live with this outdated illness
That keeps following me around
Just when I think it’s gone for good
It creeps up without a sound

If you only knew how it killed me
But cruelly kept me alive
You would know that waking up
Is as good as fighting to survive

Where did I go this time
And how long will it take to find me
Will these pills give me the will to live
Or how about all the ******* therapy

Sometimes I wish it was cancer, or a tumor,
Something to prove I’m not well
Some redeeming affliction
To paint a portrait of this sickly hell

And when it hits the way it does,
Life gets put on the shelf
What kind of illness is this, where the
Main symptom is losing yourself