He Knew The Gun Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

He knew the gun

They tell me he had fought
As soldier killed Afghans
Knew of Vietnam
Was taught to
Use the gun
And he did
To some is crazy
Just because he did it
At his home not abroad
Killed the ones who paid tax
So he could be hero of a killing
Stay home with medals and relax.

I was told as a child
"What goes up must come down, "
I think of a sharp axe
Not fountain, nor cascades
But bullets, bombs and shells.

Someone said; I recall:
"For barbers out of job
The muse is to cut
The hair of the colleagues."

And I think
And I think
And I think

USA soared to heights
We saw her reach skies
Those barbers are soldiers.