FOUGHT in the trenches of France
the screams belied the deeds
Instead of ‘for country!’
more said for love of mother

The trench reeked of gas
but the tents smelled of smoke
if you had’em you smoked’em
boots rotted and socks to hell

The voyage to paradise made
— Lady Liberty with her staff
as stiff as any military man
the diesel smoke choked many

Prohibition ran into my roads
From Chicago to musty Atlanta
bullets, broads, booze and brute
there I met my fate in rain-lead

Say nothing to the solider
speak low my ghost-friend
you were there too – I know
even though you don’t remember


About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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