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I.E.D.

Updated on February 2, 2010

His Mom leaned so proudly

by his satin bassinet

crafted of mahogany

and dressed in flowery blues

her first born son was

such a joy to change

even when he sometimes graced

her eye with tinkles spritzed.

~

She'd often throw a ball

for him to catch,

and he'd chase it over

fields in blissful joy,

till he stepped on a

Kildeers nest of eggs,

and on that day to

death became more sensitve.

~

Much later.........

~

He bent bronze like

over the hot Iraqi sands,

a lovely brass cup had

caught his curious eyes,

he reached to touch what

he thought was an artifact

but suddenly it became

Godawful fiction full of friction,

as molten shrapnel erupted

melting his flesh and bone.

~

Near mahogany well bent

in rectangular curves,

she stood and wept

over what was left,

Laid out under a tightly

closed coffin on soft satin

that cradled her first

born sired child forever

as they buried him that

day in dress blues

stained by tears.

~

We have been caught up

for over eight years in

seemingly endless engagements

that serve only to marry young men

and women to death itself.

Errors and a rush to war by

our former Commander-In-Grief

who blundered almost 4, 500 times,

and who like most of our leaders

had their own precious children

safely ensconced in colleges

or exclusion far from the mayhem they created.

Now once again they are sending

more men to Afghanistan

more fathers to become fodder,

sons of mine and yours to become mined,

as tears blur,

sending daughters to slaughters,

moms against bombs,

and children to the cauldron

that will at first stir and then still them.

From Body Bagh-dad to

"our plan is to stand again" in Afghanistan,

war is hellish, and the demons who started it,

still pitch their forks in the roads to it cleverly,

but each new turn twists the souls

of true Americans into grievous and unforgiveable pain.

~

©-MFB III

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