Post by Aaron Graf on Oct 22, 2004 5:27:44 GMT -5
Soldiers Experiences Not Fit for Fox News
The first day in combat,
First day in hell,
I killed another person,
And a part of myself.
I was praying to find the weapons,
I wanted a reason for this.
Something to let me know,
That what I saw had a cause.
All the nights when I would hold my head in shame,
I’m losing myself, I’m torn up inside.
Ever ripped a dog tag……out of a soldier’s chest?
Ever have sleepless nights…because mortars are exploding all around you?
Ever seen a market place on fire…in the middle of the flames?
Ever see a dog walking…with a child’s arm in its mouth?
You’re blinded by the right so you can’t see,
All the horrible sites that I’m forced to view,
You’re deafened from Rush Limbaugh,
Who won’t let you hear the cries…<br>That I hear every night.
Around seven or eight operations I do when dusk sets in,
Do you know what it’s like to…<br>Hear a man screaming to Allah…<br>Praying to bring back his kid?
Be the last face that these people will see?
To see women needing surgery…<br>From being beaten and raped to within an inch of their lives?
To see children rushed in by their parents…<br>Because a cluster bomb blew off their arms?
You disarmed the Iraqis Mr. Bush,
Take a look at this kid!
So every night at the base,
I hang my head and cry.
Thinking about what I’ve done and seen,
And praying for forgiveness,
I want to take it back,
This bad dream that I don’t awaken from.
I wish I never killed those simple walkers-by,
I’m marching on like ordered,
But so is my guilt.
That I didn’t have to have,
If my Commander and Chief didn’t lie.
I wouldn’t have to have my family glued to the TV,
I wouldn’t see my friends leaving…<br>This mortal coil at the sound of a gun.
And can you believe it, he says he respects veterans,
I hear them all saying it,
But I don’t see them fighting.
I don’t see their children in the fields,
In the sands with a rifle in this blazing heat.
To see their children bleed like me,
Fight like me,
Grieve like me,
Die like me.
You say you respect us?
You must be ignoring my voice,
Or avoiding my stare.
Do you really have a clue?
Or do you just not care?
You want to respect me?
Then bring me back home!
You want to respect veterans?
Then don’t make another generation of them.
So here I am in a street in Baghdad,
My friends are falling dead and bullets flying past.
I turn around and flee and get one in my gut.
I’m screaming out in pain,
I’m starting to see stars,
I’m starting to see darkness,
I’m starting to smell smoke,
Choking my lungs,
Somebody help me!
Somebody help me!
Is anybody there?
I’m too young to die,
I don’t want that flag…<br>Draping the coffin containing my ashes.
I’m being dragged out,
But pulled by my arms,
I still want to see my family,
Please don’t let this happen to me.
They get me on a table,
But now it’s too late,
My pulse isn’t beating,
My chest isn’t moving,
My eyes aren’t blinking,
But the news camera…<br>Turns to film something else.
I’m being sent back to my family,
In the neat draping that I always feared,
All these sites, these sounds, and horrible deeds.
1,000 other soldiers are dead,
Dead just like me.
My mother is crying, she’s buried her kid,
More will meet my fate,
And for what?
~ Aaron Graf
Author's Comments: This is my first anti-war poem that doesn't rhyme. This was based on what my step brother [although he's still alive] went through in Iraq. And yes most of those things, for instance the dog with somebody's arm in it's mouth was one of many things he saw there. And those of you who are against the war you should give him a round of applause for his courage, Donald Rumsfeld visited the 101st Airborne Division and the sergeant or whoever told them all to stand up and applaud, he refused to stand. So the sergeant told him to stand up and he stood up but he did not clap. So yeah should say one thing, Chris absolutely hates Bush now that he's seen the truth up close and personal. I want to give him a thanks, most of what he went through was responsible for me having this kind of knowledge outside of just picketing.
The first day in combat,
First day in hell,
I killed another person,
And a part of myself.
I was praying to find the weapons,
I wanted a reason for this.
Something to let me know,
That what I saw had a cause.
All the nights when I would hold my head in shame,
I’m losing myself, I’m torn up inside.
Ever ripped a dog tag……out of a soldier’s chest?
Ever have sleepless nights…because mortars are exploding all around you?
Ever seen a market place on fire…in the middle of the flames?
Ever see a dog walking…with a child’s arm in its mouth?
You’re blinded by the right so you can’t see,
All the horrible sites that I’m forced to view,
You’re deafened from Rush Limbaugh,
Who won’t let you hear the cries…<br>That I hear every night.
Around seven or eight operations I do when dusk sets in,
Do you know what it’s like to…<br>Hear a man screaming to Allah…<br>Praying to bring back his kid?
Be the last face that these people will see?
To see women needing surgery…<br>From being beaten and raped to within an inch of their lives?
To see children rushed in by their parents…<br>Because a cluster bomb blew off their arms?
You disarmed the Iraqis Mr. Bush,
Take a look at this kid!
So every night at the base,
I hang my head and cry.
Thinking about what I’ve done and seen,
And praying for forgiveness,
I want to take it back,
This bad dream that I don’t awaken from.
I wish I never killed those simple walkers-by,
I’m marching on like ordered,
But so is my guilt.
That I didn’t have to have,
If my Commander and Chief didn’t lie.
I wouldn’t have to have my family glued to the TV,
I wouldn’t see my friends leaving…<br>This mortal coil at the sound of a gun.
And can you believe it, he says he respects veterans,
I hear them all saying it,
But I don’t see them fighting.
I don’t see their children in the fields,
In the sands with a rifle in this blazing heat.
To see their children bleed like me,
Fight like me,
Grieve like me,
Die like me.
You say you respect us?
You must be ignoring my voice,
Or avoiding my stare.
Do you really have a clue?
Or do you just not care?
You want to respect me?
Then bring me back home!
You want to respect veterans?
Then don’t make another generation of them.
So here I am in a street in Baghdad,
My friends are falling dead and bullets flying past.
I turn around and flee and get one in my gut.
I’m screaming out in pain,
I’m starting to see stars,
I’m starting to see darkness,
I’m starting to smell smoke,
Choking my lungs,
Somebody help me!
Somebody help me!
Is anybody there?
I’m too young to die,
I don’t want that flag…<br>Draping the coffin containing my ashes.
I’m being dragged out,
But pulled by my arms,
I still want to see my family,
Please don’t let this happen to me.
They get me on a table,
But now it’s too late,
My pulse isn’t beating,
My chest isn’t moving,
My eyes aren’t blinking,
But the news camera…<br>Turns to film something else.
I’m being sent back to my family,
In the neat draping that I always feared,
All these sites, these sounds, and horrible deeds.
1,000 other soldiers are dead,
Dead just like me.
My mother is crying, she’s buried her kid,
More will meet my fate,
And for what?
~ Aaron Graf
Author's Comments: This is my first anti-war poem that doesn't rhyme. This was based on what my step brother [although he's still alive] went through in Iraq. And yes most of those things, for instance the dog with somebody's arm in it's mouth was one of many things he saw there. And those of you who are against the war you should give him a round of applause for his courage, Donald Rumsfeld visited the 101st Airborne Division and the sergeant or whoever told them all to stand up and applaud, he refused to stand. So the sergeant told him to stand up and he stood up but he did not clap. So yeah should say one thing, Chris absolutely hates Bush now that he's seen the truth up close and personal. I want to give him a thanks, most of what he went through was responsible for me having this kind of knowledge outside of just picketing.
Awesome write darlin 
