Rock and Grass
Time to bring them home...
I was sleepily thinking.
After stuffing my face with holiday.
Time to bring those red white black and blue teenagers home...
Time to resume video games-get some strange,
instead of babysitting rocks on icy Afghan mountaintops.
Numbers for names exchanging blows with rock men.
That play charades with dirty hand grenades...
Sometimes death needs to be left alone.
To sip life from the Teet of misty goats.
To grow rows of golden poppies
turn our mothers into heroines.
Time to bring'em home
country joe asked it long time ago.
"what are we fighting for"..
A jungle without a soul.
Another 58th parallel. Jam session...
Big headed devil is dead.
Buried at sea, alongside honorable men,
Spawning eternity with sea hags.
Time to bring them home before congress vacations.
Bring them home.
So, they can whorl the grass.
With silky puppies and burlap girlfriends.
Tell war tales of firefights and mountain stars.
How a tangle of teenagers smoked the local and his lamb... then laughed...
How a green friend slept forever under a red, white and blue fleece.
Then flew home under a flag, atop metal wings.
Time to bring the boys home, forever,
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