yesterday becomes more than a pain
given the choice we shoulder guns and march
drums echoing as we pass through the arch
no one expects us only to abstain
but feet and shoulders seem to bear the strain
the desert's dry enough our throats to parch
and drain the last of our stern mental starch
but we were not in this only for gain
give us a place to stand and earth will move
not only those who shout have got to speak
their words will falter when they see us rise
and they will find we have not much to prove
our greatest weapons show that they are weak
and we have only time to take the prize
Odd ravings, comments, and other wastes of time. Some are in plain prose, yet others are in rhyme.
07 March 2008
severe recollection
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