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This is not a poem.
The war machine will take apple pie and smear it
into the blonde curls of a little girl sitting on a swing in the sunshine.
She will have a letter in her hand asking daddy to please come home.
We will sigh during halftime as the the flags wipe the tears of
patriots young and old.
The war machine has found our weakness.
Our soft spot.
Love for each other.
Compassion for the innocent.
The war machine has painstakingly mapped out
the most direct route to our core.
It has arranged things so that to question is to turncoat.
To question you spit in the faces of the young men and women in fatigues
eating baked goods sent to them for the holidays.
It's a fail proof system.
Pro or con...you shut your eyes and mouth.
The war machine will continue to use the images of the ones we love
to soften the blow of being entirely wrong.
Ray Strickland
So many reads..
On such great writings, and I'm wondering if that is because they are left like me ..
Speechless
"We are, Each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another." -Luciano De Crescenzo