By James Strauss


I fought in sadly two wars,
Shot twice one for each entry,
Medals awarded for valor,
Pinned on a wall like a sentry.


Fought with honor’s distinction,
Back home they said I was brave,
But the brave went on to extinction,
While I think I was simply a knave.


I know of other’s adventures,
On T.V. in shows and what’s read,
They’re all made with lying censors,
Hiding about those getting dead.


I’m back here now where it is home,
Not at all like all the befores,
I’m left to write a poem,
One hand still works from the wars.


My books the houses won’t publish,
My readers those who were hit,
For others I write merely rubbish,
Myths overpowering shit.


I’m happy to be here in tatters,
God reached down with His touch,
Making me know that it matters,
My writing not of that much.


There’ll come a time up ahead,
When His will may be applied,
Where I’ll be with all of my dead,
Knowing He helped me I tried.


I lived on through those terrors,
Here now back in warm light,
I’m not above all those horrors,
But at least I live below fright.