Ain’t no fucking good war.


 

Ain’t no fucking good war.

Old WW2 Vet is sitting alone.
He raise his glass to the sky.
He look at an empty seat.
To the good war my friend.
He drink his shot of whiskey.
Whisper ain’t no fucking good war.
He put his face into his hands.

Father had his ribbons and awards over the fireplace from the Korea war.
We watched war movies together.
He was the hero who always saved me.

On the weekend he would drink his rum.
Late at night I would sit with him.
He would talk to dead buddies left in the Korean dirt.
He would tell me.
No war is worth a shit.

Old Vietnam Vet is dying.
The agent orange had made him 110 pounds.
The VA won’t see him anymore.
The VA tells him nothing they can do.
I sit with him and listen.
He tells me he volunteers and was proud.
He thought he was doing the right thing.
He looks me in the eyes and whisper all my friends are dead.
I will see them soon.

What will I tell them?
Did the War have any reason?
Was it just a fucking grave filled with hate?

I try to put myself in the places where living another day is your goal.
Being hungry and needing medical care.
Watching their world fall apart around them.

I go to graves of good friends.
They died in Iraq for the hatred of the Bush’s years.
I whisper fuck these wars.

Coyote