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Poem

How soon the heroes daughters and sons
  lost in the morning shadow run
     of a distant and clouded sun;
all the dreams that survive
  are mere nightmares still alive
    of what we once contrived
for America and freedom cries.

Names engraved upon a wall
  tombstones for the bodies laid low as they fall
    and the spirits that live in history squalls;
come home dear hearts
  where those left behind survive at the start
    in forgotten memories that fall apart
of America and freedom to impart.

Who is left today?
  Power players and football stars at play
    made weathy and famous in their shadowed way
long since faded bliss
  in coming home celebrations, only hers and his
    of what a hero really is
of America and freedoms quiz.

Where are those heroes today
  the men and women of yesterday
    left behind in congressional power plays
folding over the blanket of constitutional truths
  to lie and coverups of what we say to youth
    in our living and our dying blues
of America and freedom views.

Quietly forgotten heroes bear the cross,
 with names and the nameless loss
    of the war and some hidden cause
of freedom escaping at the gates scrutinized;
 pandered away for lack of compromise
    exposed in the tears of innocents chastized
of America and freedom as it slowly dies.

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