The war in Iraq is over, lasted eight years. Soldiers without arms
and legs in wheel chairs are proud to have shielded their country
from deadly danger without knowing what this danger was about.
The crippled have no choice; they must believe or the suffering
is too much to bear; must not been told they fought a useless war.
Pin medals on their chests and forget them, there is s a new war to
be fought waiting for the naive to make sacrifices in some distant
oil and sand land. If one of them stumbles on the truth they must
be silenced by calling them confused, and victims of wanton cant.
A nation who believes in Fox News and the rich owns the media
were truth is portrait as lie. Only an uprising can free them from
capitalist yoke. But how do you tell good people their cars are run
on the torment of oppressed?
Comments about this poem (The Question by oskar hansen )
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