Battle Cry
Recruitment denial of reality submission basic training.
Boot camp maneuvers doctrine faux scenario simulations.
Sheets razor straight ship shape look alive. Say sir.
Salute. Buzz cut. Keep that transmitter charged, Eugene.
'Copters dropping in a jungle where we swat mosquitoes.
There was a sliver of moon when you leapt from the trees.
Throw the grenade. Your face was alight and I saw words
gunfire silenced. What can anything mean today my friend.
Or a toast to you recall. Or peace-time full moons flesh out.
When all I will ever hear is that last thing unheard -- Cried.
-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --
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