FOR ALL HEROES

Here are the guys who have died for the world, Died for the battles in which they were hurled, Died for the flags that have long since been furled, And on this cross, Christ! Here are the bastard, expendable lot, Here are the laughs when the laughter is not, Here are the guys who are always forgot, And on this cross, Christ! Look, you! Behold through the beard and the blood, The face of the lover inflamed with the crud; See the strong limbs that lie still in the mud. Look on the red lips that open no more. What does it matter by what gods they swore? War’s the procurer and here lies his whore! What can you say to a guy when he’s dead? Kneel down beside him, lift up his head? Thank what you thank it was not you instead? And on this cross? God love you and keep you, you son of a bitch, Scratching your ass or wherever you itch, Restless in sleep as you jump and you twitch. Go, when you’re called from your haunts and your sports; Go, be a number in battle’s reports. Drown your desires and shoot in your shorts Take up your rifle and take up your clip, Take the canteen and water you’ll sip. You’ve got a class that you don’t want to skip, As on this cross, Christ!