Standing tall, ‘shoulder to shoulder’, saluting fallen
brothers draped in our flag,
Not the first, nor neither the last, dressed for occasion in
a black zip-up bag,
The unfulfilled lives, young, carefree but loyal to their
command,
Return from the battle of a weary and desolate, ruined
wasteland,
But how many times must we witness such a tragedy this way?
And who is fighting who?
I dare I just cannot say,
Bullets flying, bombs falling-innocent lives condemned to
the past,
To what purpose, for what reason, despairingly I ask?
Ancient place, wrapped in a coat of turmoil, unconquered
since Khan,
Spoon-fed propaganda, we digest, protecting us from
‘further terrorist harm’,
And so forth come the bodies of mislead men and women I
saw,
From a pointless, confused, fictional American lead war,
As ‘For Queen and Country’, so the old saying goes,
I’d rather not bother, will it end? No-one knows
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