I am a gentle man, and I try with all my heart to love my fellow man and do all that I
can, to help out and get along. However, there are some men that no matter what
you do will try to hurt and take advantage of you.
I am very patient, I give them every chance, I try to endure and show them love. I
try to check my anger, turn the other cheek strive to be humble and meek.
There comes a time when all efforts have failed, when I've been pushed far too long
and too hard. They think they can keep pushinig and never let up.
The time comes when I've seen the light I put on my war face and prepare for the
fight. I give them fair warning they can clealy see the war paint on my face.
I may not win the battle this might surely be, but I will stand my ground, take their
best and give back what they deal out twice. I may not win today or the next, but
eventually I will win the war.
Listen to me brother and keep it in your mind, if you keep pushing people it could
turn out to be your end.
A.N: Dedicated to my son-in-law John Searfoss
Vietnam Legacy
They came home from Vietnam
Bearing nightmares they can’t shake
Reliving all the horror
Is more than they can take
They went to war as children
Not schooled in killing then
And many came home to loved ones
As hardened …broken men
There were no parades and speeches
Or the Laureate creating a poem
There were no important dignitaries
To greet them coming home
Now…many years have come and gone
For some, their lives destroyed
Their minds are stuck in a time warp
And they drink to fill the void
They will never be the same
For their war was different somehow
They deserve to be remembered
So let us salute them now!
We honor and we thank you
Your deserve our respect
For your service and your bravery
And we never will forget!
Copyright©2003
(All rights reserved)
You won't be here when the lilacs bloom,
You won't breathe their sweet perfume;
Instead my love, you'll follow your star,
To fight with passion another man’s war.
Skimming the air, the swallows fly low,
Over the battle where patches of snow
Mingle with mud and stains of blood,
Reaping the tide of that bitter flood.
On foot, by air or by lethal machine,
The fight of war is vast and mean;
Our sons charge thru the valley of death,
Crying aloud with their last breath;
And it plucks the soul and tears the heart
And grieves the loved at home apart.
Both pray to God for His will to win,
In spite of the fact that war is sin;
But to love our neighbor and all mankind,
Would heal the loss and mend the mind.