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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
Fᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʟɪᴠᴇs ᴀɴᴅ sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴏʀs ᴡʜᴏ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍsᴇʟᴠᴇs, I ɢɪᴠᴇ 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤 ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ sᴀᴄʀɪғɪᴄᴇ.
Each day a letter comes
Each night it goes unread
Sometimes they stack up like moldy bread
But each week they’re burned in a drum

The weather says clear, but the sky’s need to cry
Poison in the air has taken many lives
Even us here have to learn to survive
On planes the bodies are sent back of the ones who died

I try for a walk and see his shadow
I don’t get far but down the street
To an old coffee shop where we would meet
I order a drink and watch the crows

On my walk home, the trees look bare
The concrete is growing strong on the grass
And the flags are all set to half mass
In the mailbox, is a letter from Vietnam; with a slight tear
Traveler Mar 18
The only evil
that we need to fear
is not over there,
it's over here!

The agendas of fools
who abuse our flag.
The acceptance of military officers in drag.
Weak and weary is become our brigades,
under a leader who can't find his way off a stage.
Mumbling and stumbling
and going to war...
The lesser of two evils
all the way to the core.
There's no reason to be proud,
no not 🚫 anymore.
Traveler Tim

I had proudly served during the Carter and Reagan administr. But now they have ruined the honor.
Alex McQuate May 2023
You ask me what is wrong,
When you see the explosions behind my eyes,
Staring out at a landscape that's not there.
Hearing gunshots that aren't there,
And screams of men long dead.

I brush it off sometimes,
Coming to,
Seeing the concern in your expression,
And I know that I can't lie,
But sometimes it's just too much for me to tell you,
Some things just too painful to share.

Some of it is to protect you,
Some of it is to protect me,
From that awful time in that awful place,
Where peace was so hard to find,
And impossible to see.

Sometimes I can tell you parts,
The parts you could understand,
But others wouldn't make sense to those who weren't there,
Like getting anxiety of having to get into a 110 degree porta-john to ***.
Gravedancer- The Strongest Stuff
Zywa Jan 2023
The row of medals

divert people's attention --


from his worn-out suit.
"Frammento di cronaca di Marco Leccio e della sua guerra sulla carta nel tempo della grande guerra europea" - V ("Fragment of a chronicle of Marco Leccio and his war on the map in the time of the Great War in Europe" – V, 1919, Luigi Pirandello)

Collection "Appearances"
Descovia May 2022
I look in the mirror, trying to remember who I am. Is what I see, is everything, I desire to be?

Or is it merely a reflection of exactly who I am.

Sometimes, the unknown drives me into madness. Not being able to understand, who is truly behind the eyes I see.

In my reflection.


The eyes are the window to the soul, but I can not see, all I see is Jesus the

Christ living in me, all I am is all I try to be is good enough be be there one

that I am called to be, the reflex hat I see is who I am but is it all that I can be
Matthew Descovia & Brandon Williams collaboration
nick armbrister Mar 2022
20 Cents
The guy gave the war concern 20 cents
This was enough to buy ten bullets
Which would **** ten enemy soldiers
If fired accurately by a good soldier
He'd give more if he could afford it
But he was jobless and skint
20 cents was all he could afford
Bread and coffee cost money
Even if cheaper thru the VA
His benefits were little not enough
So he just gave 20 cents
To the war collection team
When they knocked on his door
It brought back memories
Vietnam and Central America
Plus other deniable places
Still alive in his head
He didn't like Russians
So 20 cents was fine
The cost of ten bullets
For a competent soldier
He prayed they wouldn't miss
Once he was a soldier
With many good kills
All of them Russians...
Ylzm Oct 2021
Hidden deep in the galley at sea far from the front
Washing pans and floors and sometimes onions
Never a shot fired at nor its distanced boom heard
Now proudly badged, poor, unemployed, a veteran
Strutting in the town square openly carrying
Seeing fear and respect in mocking eyes
And gratitude in sneering smiles and sarcastic lips
But utter despair and pity to those that truly loved
Now old, lonely, far from those who once cared
Sharing truths on the net when away from Facebook jail
And calling out fake news with evangelistic fervour
But touch Trump, and even jihadists cow before his ferocity
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