In heaven’s swag, with blazing stars,
A land swept swell with human blood,
An Asian land bode stripes and bars,
With pledges so misunderstood.
Cast fare to those we honor most,
Sad travesty of total price,
Yet watch as politician’s boast
Of sanctity, and sacrifice.
Beyond a bank of river gray,
A whisper vessel makes its way
Down to a tributary slow,
To where the precious paddies grow.
So sweet the fragrance of the flowers,
And tempted just to pass the hours
To dream of days, with want to roam
Upon a landscape they called home.
So swiftly blast the cannon’s breath.
Our gallant sailors feared for naught,
Still, in a heartbeat, they found death,
Where freedom was but what they sought.
And scarcely had the loyal spent
The wisdom of their innocence,
Came protest marchers, so hell bent
To demonstrate their arrogance.
And yet a soldier’s wife looks on
To where her precious love has gone
To fight, where he may justly win,
But never see her face again.
I watch the demons’ wrath come spew
Upon the many, and the few,
Still, in the end, they’ll lose the fight,
God’s mighty hand preserves the right.
Let’s place their honor in our hearts,
Those gallant souls who lead the way,
That even cowards know to say,
They died so we may live to pray.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 7:45 AM UTC
In heaven’s swag, with blazing stars,
A land swept swell with human blood,
An Asian land bode stripes and bars,
With pledges so misunderstood.
Cast fare to those we honor most,
Sad travesty of total price,
Yet watch as politician’s boast
Of sanctity, and sacrifice.
Beyond a bank of river gray,
A whisper vessel makes its way
Down to a tributary slow,
To where the precious paddies grow.
So sweet the fragrance of the flowers,
And tempted just to pass the hours
To dream of days, with want to roam
Upon a landscape they called home.
So swiftly blast the cannon’s breath.
Our gallant sailors feared for naught,
Still, in a heartbeat, they found death,
Where freedom was but what they sought.
And scarcely had the loyal spent
The wisdom of their innocence,
Came protest marchers, so hell bent
To demonstrate their arrogance.
And yet a soldier’s wife looks on
To where her precious love has gone
To fight, where he may justly win,
But never see her face again.
I watch the demons’ wrath come spew
Upon the many, and the few,
Still, in the end, they’ll lose the fight,
God’s mighty hand preserves the right.
Let’s place their honor in our hearts,
Those gallant souls who lead the way,
That even cowards know to say,
They died so we may live to pray.
The year is 1968. You know where.