American Blood
by Foster Piekarski


"These are the times that try men's souls:
The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in
his crises, shrink from the service of his country;"
Thomas Paine, The Crises, December 1776

"It is only the dead who have seen the end of war."
Plato, 428 BC-348 BC

Bittersweet and short is memory
the dainty plastic flags fluttering
profusely and with righteous anger
from car antenna, window clamp
the bumper stickers,
proclaiming such patriotic themes
"Proud To Be An American?"
plastered with pride
on chrome, on integrated fiberglass
faded, gone, mired in the daily do
forgotten in the daily don't, lisping
lip service of a stuttering consciousness

But Jesus Christ, we've got our songs
"Red, White and Blue"
sing along, sing along

American blood, they turn their greedy
backs on American blood
but stretch their greedy hands
for American dollars stained
with American blood
as in their manicured graveyards lay
our patriots who fell that they
could be free now to say
"Sorry, we could but won't support you."

Hut, two, three, four
hut, two, three, four
tramp, tramp, tramp of soldier's boots
singing death songs in Afghanistan
your left, your left, your left, right, left
588 killed or wounded,
revisions coming, video at six

American blood, American boys,
American girls, American blood
American daughters, American sons
American brothers, American sisters
American fathers, American mothers
America's sacrifice, America's blood
will my soldier come marching home again
hut, two, three, four, American blood
your left, your left, your left, right, left

Hut, two, three, four
hut, two, three, four
tramp, tramp, tramp of soldier's boots
they march in the deserts of Iraq
your left, your left, your left, right, left
1752 dead and counting,
revise as necessary, exclusive at eleven

See the pretty plastic ribbons
the single bow on vehicle backs
now in a variety of colors
some have collections, one, two, three
some have more, six, five, four
see the neat rows of coffins
draped in colors, red, white, blue
lined up at America's front door
bringing soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines
back home again, back home again
hands no longer filled with weapons
just loved one's eyes with tears

But Jesus Christ, we've got our songs
"Red, White and Blue"
sing along, sing along






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