ALL THOSE DEAD---WHAT A WASTE!
Thousands are dying from incurable diseases. Lead poisoning's one. Shot from guns. Bombs from planes. Who knows what these lethal weapons dropped from planes contain. Debris of crumbling homes and crowded schools, in mosques and temples, homes of gods come rumbling down, killing innocents seeking shelter as as bombs fall helter-skelter.
Streets littered with the dead, some shot in the head intentionally by their neighborly enemy. Some victims of internal injuries, crushed by pounding debris, dying in the blood-soaked mud. No help comes to stop the flow.
Thousands piled like scraps of wood, succumbing slowly while the still alive watch them die. All cry inwardly, few shed tears. Eyes drained dry. Few ask Why? They know, George told them so.
Thousands piled high. Some dying, some dead, all waiting for a place to rest their head. Few places can be found. In morgues or underground. Burial sites grow scarce, mass graves save space. Many interred anonymously. Identity an impossibility. Even so, no time to wait. The sun burns hot. Cold flesh will rot. Maggots, rats wait with baited breath. They will never starve to death.
Undertakers, doctors, nurses too, very few, overworked, underpaid, afraid the next raid will be their last. The die is cast in this vast killing field where neither side will yield. Not opposing sects. Allies, most Americans want to quit. But George won't hear of it. This leader, in disgrace, cares more about saving face than saving lives of our GIs.
It's not surprising how the toll of dead and maimed keeps rising. Three thousand plus of us, Estimations of dead in this dying nation vary widely. Nobody really knows, Upwards of two hundred thousand. A modest count. Each day the amount goes higher.
Streets littered with the dead, some shot in the head intentionally by their neighborly enemy. Some victims of internal injuries, crushed by pounding debris, dying in the blood-soaked mud. No help comes to stop the flow.
Thousands piled like scraps of wood, succumbing slowly while the still alive watch them die. All cry inwardly, few shed tears. Eyes drained dry. Few ask Why? They know, George told them so.
Thousands piled high. Some dying, some dead, all waiting for a place to rest their head. Few places can be found. In morgues or underground. Burial sites grow scarce, mass graves save space. Many interred anonymously. Identity an impossibility. Even so, no time to wait. The sun burns hot. Cold flesh will rot. Maggots, rats wait with baited breath. They will never starve to death.
Undertakers, doctors, nurses too, very few, overworked, underpaid, afraid the next raid will be their last. The die is cast in this vast killing field where neither side will yield. Not opposing sects. Allies, most Americans want to quit. But George won't hear of it. This leader, in disgrace, cares more about saving face than saving lives of our GIs.
It's not surprising how the toll of dead and maimed keeps rising. Three thousand plus of us, Estimations of dead in this dying nation vary widely. Nobody really knows, Upwards of two hundred thousand. A modest count. Each day the amount goes higher.
posted by Ed Weiland at 7:30 PM
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