it hurts in the heart
when heroes are have-nots
after giving their all,
what’s left that they’ve got?
how many more vets will fill their cupboards with clocks?
how many more lives will pay the exorbitant cost
since health ain’t free or sold at loss,
it seems it was long lost
in that place where the war was.

now we find folks forgot
how foes brought fights fought,
take for granted what they’ve got,
giving big deeds little thought
when honor is selfishly half-sought,

selfless?
it is not.

we’ve seen what that’s wrought;
far from the peace we sought
a figurative hell but its cold, not hot
it ain’t literal, but still its critical
and truly despicable,
to treat lifesavers worse than criminals.

Some things are learned,
but never taught
so now and then,
spare searching thoughts.
you think its work; but it’s really not.
So take advantage, ‘fore chance is gone.
hit your limit, and go beyond;
you’re never short, going long.
you have the right to prove doubt wrong.
we came from one; so every one belongs
the poor, the rich, the old, the young.

you cannot lead those you leave behind.
there’s a detriment to that design;
a colour outside of lines.
where mindless fools make fools lose minds
and in a sad state; they've sacrifice saints.
estranged, to a stranger they pray.
solemnly, some will say:

‘we’ve simply gone astray,
somewhere along the way’

but when wiser ways breed better days,
it’ll be known without seeing or saying it.
the truth will grow without need for feeding it.
felt in your bones and you’ll even be bleeding it;
it won’t be a boast to believe in it.

these simple self-reflections
spot ego-built deceptions.
as intermittent intellectual intervention
pares prideful, porous perception;
rescinding regression, it’s purely progressive.
and in immaculate conception,
loose leaved lines’ll lay
layered with lessons;
words weaved tired, but tested;
learned, not suggested.
wisdom writ better
than the best of them.
not rested,
’til the rest of them
appreciate what was given in
by heroes that have come and gone,
how hard done heroes have been honored wrong;
they were our foundation all along.

you see, it’s soldiers’ shoulders we stand upon

Countless poppies now grow
Where men had once stood,
Or had peered from a dugout,
Or had hidden in a wood,
Where bullets had hailed and
Young lives were squandered,
As poisoned gas smothered
And big guns thundered,
Those in charge must have surely
Questioned and pondered.

Poppies grow in peace now,
Gunfire no longer heard,
Let this be the case forever
For PEACE - is the golden word.

On the 11th month,
the 11th day,
at the 11th hour,
Meagan wore her poppy
on the right side
at 11 O’clock,
just like her father,
John McCain
taught her.
Holding her
newborn girl Liberty
close to her—
and taking care
not to disturb
the many small flags
proudly fluttering—
she placed
another exactly
the same way
on his grave
just kissing the
white granite words
PRISONER OF WAR
LOVING HUSBAND
FATHER AND POPPA.

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.

A poppy is pretty and bright
And its juice is so far out of sight
    That the smoke in a den
    Full of ***** old men
Makes all of them high as a kite.