It would be cruel to simply single out the loss of one life in the senseless escapade the Codpiece administration unleashed and continues to impose on the Muddled East.
Yet, the news of yet one more snuff job in the Triangle of Death was just too much for me. The young man in this case was the son of a military father who had, with true conscience, opposed the plans of the War Lord from before the first smart bomb fell or the first tracer bullet was fired. What follows is dedicated to this son and father but also to all the other sons and daughters, mothers and fathers who have died and will continue to die in vain for the vanity of a popinjay.
As a child, I remember a Deep White Pit,______________
the broken bodies there and how they twitched.
I recall when they swore, "Never again!",
but the abattoirs are open for business again!
We send our young children, strong in their prime,
to fight for our honor but really for crime.
In the Triangle of Death, in the Pentagrams of hate,
while doing their duty, they all meet their fate.
Some quick, in a flash, some in exquisite pain
as they feel their life slowly trickle and drain.
For what purpose? For what plan? Dare we even ask
what dark visions hide behind that smooth mask?
Tell me: who demands such sacrifice,
who rolls the bodies like pairs of cheap dice?
While some fill rows and rows of pine coffins,
others have bankrolls to fill in their coffers!
Whatever put the idea in his head,
"War is a racket!" that's what the general* said?
Is it really all that hard to understand?
It's hard to be a hero, but it's worse to be man,
to live in this world you have to take a stand.
* Gen. Smedley Butler
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