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The Spangled, Star Banner

By Christopher Marshall Towsley

 

Apparently Hell on Earth,

is nothing new,

some say Earth is Hell,

You tell me that’s not true.

Outgunned, outmanned,

it’s really what they say,

when You go out into the field,

and fight for the U. S. of A.

 

Clint said, “Keep it tight”

Or "Mister I hate American

will turn You into Swiss cheese"

They sure haven’t made,

being an American,

a thing of ease.



If History goes back,

And don’t We all know,

it can,

They seem to think that a small contingent of Americans,

can always make a stand,

In places that,

define the word crap.

They represent the flag,

and God can only spare them,

from a body bag.

 

Like John Fogarty wrote,

“It’s like déjà vu”

“All over again”

it’s strange.

It’s like We realize,

what We couldn’t,

back then,

That the only signal receiving,

Was the one they send.



But this thing they have,

about putting Johnny,

up on the front lines,

is starting to look,

a little behind,

the times.

 

I mean boots on the ground,

only make judgment sound,

if they continue to stand upright,

if an IED,

can the difference be,

then send in the drones,

at night.

 

Why don’t We ever fight to win,

Anymore?

What is the American Soldier,

America’s Whore?

Putting “everything out there”

For a meager share,

Never a parade through,

ticker-tape,

or the spangled, star banner

playing there.

 

By Christopher Marshall Towsley


View other poems by Mr. Towsley, as well as others, in the Whiteout Press Poetry Section.

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