Sacrilege in the cathedrals of their craniums, shrapnel and burnt bone offerings to the gods of war, weapons of mass destruction, were found in Iraq, but only along roadsides, in sad dam rubble.
Massive concussions, silent screams, sand blasted flesh, times thousands in V.A. wards bringing home souvenirs, of diminished mental capacity, traumatic brain injuries, reducing perfectly healthy young exports, to be returned each year as damaged imports.
Each staring blankly at vomit green institutional walls, All of the war and its horrors blissfully erased, as well as most recognition of families and friends.
Fractured statues strapped in wheeled thrones remnants of a "Mission Accomplished." but at what cost, what have we won? Who will offer them perpetual care?
Where is the George W. Mental Health Care Facility? Screw any library in his honor, build a massive structure to hold the volumes of men shelved by his fictional accounts of all the many plots filled by less fortunate men.
Somewhere they can be bathed, fed, and cared for, lepers of society, hidden away from reality, till they live out their emptied lives and expire in the limbo of lunacy wrought by his war of lies.