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Bobby Bolduc @ War
 

Bobby sat down at the typewriter

dreaming of sand and fun in the sun

so he thought to himself,

"why don't I . . ."

and nothing but empty space in mind

left god the perfect opening to

whisper in his ear, "join the army."

and so he did.  And so came Iraq.


Among these burning walls,

these golden halls

and the billowing pillars of black smoke

that are post-war Irag,

you will find an American soldier,

young Boby Bulduc,

whishing for all his time back      

and wondering out loud:

why - with my wife (life) a thousand miles away

and my babies (family) gaining birthdays -

have I lent my labors to this liar's cause?

 

 

 

 

Am I he, like Salomon,

chosen to decide the fate of a nation?

Am I he, like Job,

  wandering, afflicted on a whim

to see if democracy holds the secret

to the truth of faith?

Am I the one granted the power to lead

these people like sheep

to the promised land - you know, the mall?

Foreign nations with foreign names

dangerous people playing dangerous games

all is

kill kill kill

and all is

fear fear fear

paranoia and an M16 go hand in hand

especially on the open, angry road

There must be some mistake

I didn't mean that they

could fake a war  

for polls

Who do you think you are

turning trust to tears 

and fears

with war

where has the meaning gone?

what will be left  when I'm gone

This dog and pony show

must go on.