08 Nov
The emotional wounds survived as a Viet Nam era veteran:

Lo righta, lo righta, lefty righta laya, 
left-right, left-right-------
I hear the sound of Marine Corps marching
singing bawdy nonsense doggerel in cadence
trained to be a war machine at the beck and call
of a nation in the throes of an identity crisis,
each booted young soldier is not authorized
to have one.

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Posted by on November 8, 2021 in Poetry


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