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It's strange.

Burning is considered a respectful way to dispose of a flag.
I guess I just like flags.

Faded Flags

There are a lot of faded flags. They’ve grown a tattered gray,
That were so bright and vibrant when we hung them on that day.
The fresh pain now has faded, and control is grimly kept.
The hurt that washed into our soul made furrows as we wept.

Faded too is memory, perhaps a blessed thing,
Except we get reminders of the terror that they bring.
They think they can deflect us. They hope they can prevail.
I have a bit of news for them, WE ARE NOT GOING TO FAIL.

We showed our children Peace and Love, they turned a little green,
And found compelling entertainment in a video machine.
We watched in horror as they chortled at the gore,
We hardly knew that they were hardening for War.

Our enemies underestimate the ease with which we cringe,
For they haven’t seen our kids go on a video killing binge.
They are prepared for battle, all we need to say is go,
“Game over”’s when they’ll note the scores belonging to the foe.

We didn’t want them trained this way, but since it’s come about,
I think we ought to let the kids just let their feelings out.
They’ll vent a lot of anger, and we’ll cheer them from the side,
And they’ll sweep away the flaming horde just like a rising tide.

And faded colors of the flag will gain a brighter gleam,
As the new recruits are added to the old part of the team.
Some may return with wounds and mental hurt that keep them blue,
While others will be stellar in the things they have to do.

The purest of their valor will be shown within the fight,
And white will represent them in the dawn’s approaching light.
And yes, we will have casualties. Many smiles will end up dead.
And we’ll sew the bravest color in their shroud in brightest red.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . May 19, 2004