A Good Cause They Say

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By: Katherine Burkett Oil, seeping black ooze, from the darkness he can hear  the sound of profit,  the sounds of lies told, the sounds of men and women, men and women dying. More wretched chaos by the hour, the sol...

Oil,

seeping black ooze,

from the darkness he can hear 

the sound of profit, 

the sounds of lies told,

the sounds of men and women,

men and women dying.

 

More wretched chaos by the hour,

the soldiers sent there to devour

entire cultures,

for one man's famous hour,

and all for a good cause they say,

back home.

 

The man's been losing his mind

for years

in that infernal

dusty 

hell hole.

 

A thousand miles

away from home

with no green valleys

there to roam.

 

Sand and madness

blowing into his ears,

sifting through his brain.

 

In the distance 

a geyser of liquid gold

blots out the sunset.

 

A stain upon 

the character

of mankind.

 

A good cause they say

after the towers came down,

yet none of those weapons

were ever found.

 

A good cause they say

yet eyes avert

when one mentions the days

when soldiers came home

as heroes.

 

There is the man

now old and gray

sitting on a sidewalk

soul gone from his gaze

 

A sign in his lap reads

"Iraq Veteran

Will work for food

Anything helps"

 

All for a good cause 

they say.

 

So they say.

 

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