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Poem

By the roadside sat two men
One a soldier the other a poet
One a warrior among men
The other a warrior of pen
One sculpted by war
The other, horrors of the soul

Each had fought a war
For their souls
One had killed in jungles cold
The other in pages cold
Each to save their soul

These warriors of old
Sat by that road
Where it got clammy and cold
Each in their own thoughts
Each recounting days old
When their souls were lost
One to the gun
The other to the pen

But don't think the poet
A lesser man
For as a boy he became a man
The pages were real death
Forced to kill those ugly men
Who took his soul

It was just a dynamite stick
And the fuse went boom!!
No more turns
Being passed around like a cigarette
By those men
There was just no more
Cigarette smoke breath

And don't think the soldier
Anything less
They were just orders
Kill them!
They were just children
Kill them!
The enemy must learn
Here we mean business

So the two warriors
Sat side by side
And stared blankly
Across the cold clammy road
And in the distance
A storm cloud formed

Then sudden thunder


Each warrior ducked

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