Peace o'er the Land

To superficial thinkers we are not at war,
Daily life not altered a lot,
Some shop chic boutiques for naught,
For plebeians Wal Mart is the store.
 
A vague calm is o'er the home front,
Nightly television images assault our eyes,
Fallujah overrun, Marines die,
Can see, hear, cursing of the grunts.
 
America yawns and file their nails,
Goes to the lounge,
See what can be found,
Brings home a blind lover, ooh, he knows Braille.
 
Talk of war, talk of peace,
Who is right,
Who is wrong, go fly a kite,
We really care not, watching the press release.
 
Except those of loved ones,
Crying for their dead,
A brother, a father, whose blood has bled,
From bullets from a gun.
 
Votes counted, new man won,
Hate speech liken him to a vile despot,
Accuses him of dastardly, dreadful plots,
Think from Lucifer he was spawned.
 
Evil came to us unnatural and vile,
Turmoil, hate and revenge we had a need,
To go after this nefarious breed,
Find them, kill them, do it with style.
 
Ah, but now we have become carefree,
Our main concern has become a blur,
We forget how angry we were,
We drink our beer, or nibble our brie.
 
The anger we can't find,
Except directed at our new Commander-In-Chief,
We are as passive as a fallen leaf,
We walk around like the blind.
 
Dissenters of our policy about there and back,
Shrill voices we hear,
Condemning the fight of our volunteers,
Not realizing, if we don't fight, freedom will lack.
 
My lone voice says the fight is right,
Over there, please, not here for a second blow,
Root out evil where 'ere it is and make 'em go,
To vestal virgins, not here for a new 9-11 bite.
 
©November 15, 2016 / Jerry Pat Bolton