can I like just
go in a forest
and fall
quietly
quickly
without people
hearing me
or will they
invade me
again

i met many people
big and not so big
all different size
and evrytiem
i cri
until i met squid
he was so squid
i went splid
while evry1 else amde me go
wubba
and to this day
he is the only one
who make me go
yeehaw

When the last shell fell,
  and the ground was cold.

The land was marked
    by the red petals
that had fallen like the
            lives now cold.

Names of those wrote on
every flag of crimson that
                           had departed.

It was the eleventh moment,
           of an eleventh occasion.
Where the guns fell silent
       like those not going home.


We honour the past,
                   to live the future.

For without there sacrifice,
     we wouldn't be able to live

the life we have now.

Thank you for those who fell,
            those who came home.
Leaving apart of themselves that
               is over there even now.

The last shell fell, but some echoes
                        never fade over time.
Echoing through life hoping to
             never fall like that again.

Thank you,

For the freedom
         For this day
For each night.
And for our freely given rights.

Thank you,

For what you did
              For the day you fell,
For the last breath you had
       And the reason I'm alive.

Thank you,

Even though
   We never meet.
Even though
    I don't know
            your face.

But you are on my mind
On the eleventh month
          Of the eleventh day.

And at this time I bow
My head, every year in
           gratitude & respect.

The world is withering like the fallen leaves
I can never tell where upon the terrace field
Of life, exploration. existence and will-
Are we nearing the end of our summit
Or merely crossing the drop of a hill
Ever far from the clouds, fringe of the pit
Are we at the very first rung of the fate wheel
Or are we edging rapidly towards the dip
Are we about to crush are we about to kneel
Are we losing our desperate clawing grips
Am I hearing welcoming drums or is this our knell
Is the thief of time silently vouching to steal
Our last supper our very last earthly meal
Or are we just crouching to brace The Greater Leap

Riding the train to Mall of America near Minneapolis. Fort Snelling National Cemetery lies East of the tracks. Outside the windows pass these gravestones. Stark marble markers in the place of heros. Rigid rank and file, monuments on parade in mimic  memory of the command to "Attention!"  

And there are thousands. Row after row, column upon column, they march into the distance

Until finally, I closed my eyes and listened to the rumble of the  train, wheels upon tracks, and to the conversion of a young family seated behind me as they talked about all the fun they will have at the mall. The Mall of America -- found out past the tombstones, beyond the graves of the fallen brave.