We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;…Shakespeare
Henry V
It Ain’t Over Til it’s Over Baby!
On the flattop’s deck
Bowing his neck, George
Said “Heck, it’s over!”
As helicopters hover like
bees in clover overhead.
Declares victory, “They’re dead”
The terrorist dread done
The task won. Wars
are fun. Silly grin
upon his chin amid
the din of cheers,
mugs of beers and
loyal seers shouting praise,
hallelujah-hands raise high,
a maze of American pie
as mothers sigh relief
and cry with joy,
while hoi-polloi-common
men enjoy the win,
the smug sin of pride-
the thin red line
grapevine of cold, lucid
premium wine from dross
Like a true boss
No loss of flavor
But to savor inexcusable
Horrific behavior while dead
Strewn about, lead coffins
On beds of sand
honor a band of
brother's dance to a real end.
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