NEW IMPROVED WAR GOD! NOW IN EXTRA STRENGTH! a poem

NEW AND IMPROVED GOD

Now with EXTRA STRENGTH!

It's sad that God appears so weak;
He needs a helping hand
I once read of an ancient God
that made the sea and land
He didn't ask a single soul,
which species should survive
He tied each species to the Earth,
allowing all to thrive

But now it seems He's gotten old
and needs that Human touch
He's not driving Evolution;
if We need roads this much!
It's time to take his keys away;
Divinely dump the clutch!
We need INSTANT critters today,
made from clay and such!
Because We destroy whole species;
in weeks or even days
We need a God with EXTRA STRENGTH,
FAST ACTING in His ways

TV tells me a single buck,
Instantly yields back ten!
Why offer cash, straight to the poor?
I'll not do it again.
Low-yield giving, oh what a bore:
It has no style, my friend.
TV tells tales of miraculous sales - by a well-painted whore, without sin!

It's sad that God appears so weak;
He needs a big sales team
I once read of an ancient God
that sold morals with a dream
He didn't need a single soul,
to go from door to door
He didn't spout out slogans:
"UN-DAMNED FOREVER MORE!"

Yes, now it seems He's broke and sad;
inflation strikes again!
Phones and goals, will buy a new Rolls,
as We gush joy from within.
Let's sponsor an All-mighty ad:
"INVEST IN GOD, TO WIN!"
I'd just bet, if Sunday arrives
that ad will pack 'um in...
and I guess cash, can change lives;
no matter where We've been
Trinity thrives in THREE FOR ONE drives,
with HALF-OFF SALES ON SIN!

TV teaches a single sin,
often brings in a ten!
Why offer cash, straight to the poor?
I'll not do it again.
They're so unkempt and such a bore:
They have no style, my friend.
TV touts score for miraculous sales - by a well-painted whore, without sin!

It's sad that God appears so weak,
He needs Our politics.
I once read of an ancient God
that hated lies and tricks.
They often claim He needs Our vote,
or quick election fix.
I guess they met a new god
'Cause Old God says it's sick!

But now it seems He's way to shy,
to raise a mighty hand
Constantine saw great signs on high;
to bring a battle plan!
When God wants war, it's in the sky;
not buried in the sand!
We need INSTANT soldiers today;
made from clay not Man!
Because We destroy whole cities;
in micro-second span.
We need a God with EXTRA STRENGTH
and NEW! FAST ACTING plan.

TV reports a single death,
often brings about ten!
Why create war, just for the poor?
Vietnam once again.
Same propaganda seems such a bore:
It has no style, my friend.
TV tolls Hell's Bell - too low to tell - on highly-paid whores, without sin!

CUT WHO AND RUN WHERE?

CUT into the veteran and RUN your mouths some more
CUT us deeper this time, than you ever have before
Then, RUN lies by the voters, about a meager raise
Tell them it was high enough, and leave them in a haze

CUT into America and RUN those dreams away
CUT jobs and RUN the gas up, like you did today
Then, bring in cheaper labor, and RUN us into debt
CUT back on social programs, until there's nothing left

RUN away from serving, just like you did in 'Nam
RUN on only slogans, and next time blame Iran
Then, create a monster, before you drop the bomb
Tell them it's Saddam, or find a brand new name
Americans are stupid, they'll never see the game

CUT a new commercial, then RUN it night and day
CUT our civil rights back and RUN up your own pay
RUN us into poverty, before you RUN away
RUN away with billions, CUT taxes to the rich
RUN slogans by the millions, but make up a new pitch...

Cut and run won't cut it, when you CUT our right to live
Cut and run won't cut it, when there's nothing left to give
Cut and run sounds so cute, but will your voters give a hoot?
when thieves RUN fake elections, for a small share of the loot
Cut and run sure is fun, until your child picks up the gun
and medics cut off cut-rate gear, as blood runs in the sun

Mistletoe falls

Old soldiers sit in rows, underneath the oak
The young ones mill around,
they shift; they smoke; they joke
Mistletoe now fallen, rotting in the glads
Green, to brown, to ground
it falls; it turns; it fades

Old oak drops mistletoe, calmly, without care
Then, it's just expensive
it's trash; it's waste; it's there
Oak once held mistletoe, in such high esteem
a winter-wind defensive
so high; so mean; so green

Mistletoe will never, adorn a Christmas tree
Nor earn a lovers kiss
it grew; it died; it's free
Underneath the oak, green leaves mix with brown
Days of oak they miss
with life, with light, with sound

THE GRUNTS' GIFT

If I could give them eyes to see - past profits from a war
Perhaps Iraq could then be free - to live; much like before
Perhaps they'd see it clear as day - when viewing their own child...
blowing other peoples' kids away - in conflict, now gone wild

If I could give them ears to hear - the muffled cries at night
Perhaps they'd listen to the fear - of missiles taking flight
Perhaps they'd hear a mothers' cry - a'weeping for her son...
who bought into a vicious lie - which truly serves no one

If I could give them hearts to feel - the sorrow and the pain
Perhaps they'd fear a death from steel - as missions go insane
Perhaps they'd feel their bones break - when hidden bombs explode...
near their child who serves for freedoms' sake - along a dusty road

If I could give them minds to soar - about the greater cost
Perhaps we only win at war - when we measure what we've lost
Perhaps they'll learn, to truly win - and swiftly end this game...
that keeps the score of countless sin - on walls too black to name

If I could give them lips to taste - the blood of their best friend
Perhaps they'd stop this hellish waste - and let the killing end
Perhaps if they could taste her blood - as it spews into their face...
they'll hang their heads to curb its flood - and end Iraq's disgrace

If I could give them strength to smell - a ripe corpse in the sun
Perhaps they'd sniff up deaths' hot hell - of battles lost, not won
Perhaps they'd sense sulphuric smoke - arising in the air...
that masks the stench of profits joke - for folks that do not care

author signs here________________


All this is written by the Unknown Veteran. Please support our troops by signing your name to any of these poems you wish, before passing them along. Emailing different poems to everyone you know will save lives, which serves God and Humanity.
Patrick

Did you write these, Patrick? They're good. I hope they travel widely. KnR

Hekate

That's my story and I'm sticking to it! My small yellow dog made me say sign them as "Unknown Veteran." The first one appeared on GENERAL DU. THE GRUNT'S GIFT was the first poem this ten pound Benji look-a-like wrote. She's still slow but types pretty well, considering she uses only her front paws.

I can, to this day, barely handle pennies.

Copper smells like blood, you know.

sense of smell is a major PTSD trigger but no reference drives the point home better for a chicken-hawk. They've smelled dead animals in some cases fallen fellow pigs.

I'd love to hear that one set to music and sung by someone playing an acoustic guitar.

if lawyers say we need it for a musician to own the lyrics, the music writer can donate a dollar to VAW, VVAW, IVAW or Gold Star families in the name of "The Unknown Veteran. I hope it gets a musician a big hit!

Tie a yellow-ribbon, to the mistletoe
Don't tell um why it's tied there...
'cause no one wants to know
Don't tell um why vets cried there...
'cause it might just spoil the show
Just tie that yellow ribbon, to the mistletoe

Now that I think about it... the chorus could use the same tune as Tony Orlando and dawn! lol

Excellent....hits the spot.

Was in DC this past weekend, and talked to a couple of 'Nam Vets at the kiosks between the wall and Lincoln Memorial.

They are all a sad bunch of guys....some agree, most disagree with this war, but still feel forgotten.

My wife bought a MIA bracelet with the name of a Donald Carr from San Antonio, and we found him on The Wall so she could get a rubbing of his name. She wears it with pride. I think she had one in the 70's, and the soldier made it home.....sadly in a coffin, but you all were and are heroes of hers and mine!

The Wall, and The Cemetery were very, very humbling places. And Ghost, you probably know by now, I don't humble real easy.

Thanks for the post!!

Tex