There are no flags to wave <br />in the middle of the war. <br /> <br />No important words to proclaim <br />to inspire victory and glory. <br /> <br />Just death. <br /> <br />Mutated shapes of body parts <br />that have fulfilled <br />the honour of being buried <br />in closed caskets. <br /> <br />Send the pieces home. <br />Give a flag to their wives. <br /> <br />There are no messages in a bottle. <br />No secret codes that will <br />define the evil we allow. <br /> <br />No meaning to the carnage we <br />watch with little interest <br />on our nightly news programs. <br /> <br />Change the channel. <br /> <br />Switch off the mind. <br /> <br />Seek one of those reality shows <br />which allows us to participate <br />by not being present <br />for the events. <br /> <br />Pass the potatoe chips. <br />Open the beer. <br /> <br />There are no medals worth having <br />which make the killing <br />seem to be of <br />Divine will. <br /> <br />No waving hands of untold delight <br />hoping to infiltrate the <br />mindless drone of battle. <br /> <br />Just silence. <br /> <br />Quiet soldiers in the midst of <br />the battleground. <br /> <br />Dying. <br /> <br />God bless our side.<br /><br />Chris G. Vaillancourt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bless-us-as-we-kill/
