# Bull Shit



## sas (Jul 3, 2017)

closed

.


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## midnightpoet (Jul 3, 2017)

Yeah, I'm reminded of a Johnny Cash song: "it was a slow walk in a sad rain, and nobody tried to be John Wayne; I came home but Tex did not, and I can't talk about the hit he got..."


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## SilverMoon (Jul 3, 2017)

sas, just know finished reading a letter from my brother who found a new friend in a man who had been in Vietnam. Johnny, says he doesn't speak much but has learned allot from his actions and the compassion in his eyes.

I will say this - an apt title. So sorry for all of your losses. Frank  :love_heart:


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## sas (Jul 4, 2017)

Silver, Yes, that generation was filled with visions of glory and confetti parades, until . . .

Instead of cap guns, American boys now play war with real ones, in yards. Mothers can't heal their wounds with kisses.


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## SilverMoon (Jul 4, 2017)

My age, on the cusp of these times recalling watching protesters on TV in LA, seeing posters of Nixon tacked to trees (BTW the movie "All the President's Men" is being reviewed, compared to this administration on MSNBC)

It is the 4th of July, now. The American Eagle's head is bowed in sorrow and shame. Lady Liberty is crying. I am not celebrating, bull shit.


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## sas (Jul 4, 2017)

I was born in 1944. Raised in the conservative 50s when we were taught to trust our government. We were the good guys.   We didn't lie. I grew up.


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## Firemajic (Jul 5, 2017)

sas said:


> They say it’s for gods
> and countries and worth the price
> of those still pimpled  who come
> eager after backyard wars
> ...




sas, What is NOT said, but implied,  makes this such a powerful, poignant poem...
such as this line " still pimpled.... who come eager after backyard wars
with scars healed by a mother's kiss." This line not only has innocent imagery, but also implies that innocence through your words... this line, more than any other in this poem, broke my heart, I have memories of my brothers playing "war" in the backyard, I can still hear them say "BAM! You are DEAD!"
and I remember my mother fixing their bumps and bruises with a quick hug and a kiss, before they darted away to continue their innocent game, where, once shot and killed, you simply get back up again ...

You delivered so much with just a few lines...


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## sas (Jul 5, 2017)

Thank you, Fire. 

History makes no difference. Poems less. I write, anyway.


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## escorial (Jul 5, 2017)

direct and sparse..good stuff


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## sas (Jul 5, 2017)

escorial said:


> direct and sparse..good stuff



Esc,   And, I like your art. Direct and sparse...good stuff.  smiles. sas


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## Chris Green (Jul 21, 2017)

I lost a few friends to that war as well, this was incredibly sad after I thought about it and let it sink in a little and I am with you...it was all bullshit. Where did it get us...visiting cemeteries on Sundays. Nicely crafted.


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