POISONED WORDS
THOSE SPOKEN TO WOUND A SOUL...
Service Not Self
Flickering flames, that break the dark...
A YOUNG COLONIAL BOY
I can still remember that damp, chilly Virginia...
You are told this is how a young man
finds honor, that to die for one's country...
Unfurl your flag, let your marching tune soar
in defeat nonetheless you stood your ground...
As so many want to fall and taste the end,
Instead of rising and uplift to knight the light...
Every time I put on this uniform I can't help but...
No matter where you go,
You are bombarded by politics...
what did you feel,
throwing some food...
In 1956 we drove my old Pontiac
To the Park Theatre on main...
Come grab yourself a bollard boy
And I'll spin you a dit...
When the guns fall silent
when the last shots fired...