whitebeard

Don't curse the darkness, light a candle.

Letters from Iraq

The hot Sunni sun
passes Moaning Mosque Spire.
B-company’s pinned down
and under heavy fire.
Underneath the palms
there’s improvised bombs.
Because, Jihad Johnny
knows Yankee is a liar.

On Euphrates east bank
where the desert winds blow,
M 1 Abe
keeps his head down low.
Smoking up Joe,
With a front back go,
Is General Hash,
And his puppet show.

They lost another friend today.
It’s getting rough over there.
They say the food tastes like shit.
They miss the pussy, drugs and beer.

They say the whole things fucked.
I wish the boys were back.
At least I know they're still alive.
Another letter from Iraq.

Police Call Kilo’s
marching double time.
While, the grease monkeys
sweep the motor pool line.
On guard is Shaming Jay.
Rolls his own every day.
Lifer Lenny’s getting fitted
for new box of pine.

On an empty cot,
Presents full of Christmas loot.
All that’s left of Bullet Billy
is a pair of bloody boots.
His mom is on the phone.
His girl is all alone.
We all stand in the rain
for a twenty-one gun salute.

They lost another friend today.
It’s getting rough over there.
They say the food tastes like shit.
They miss the pussy, drugs and beer.

They say the whole things fucked.
I wish the boys were back.
At least I know they're still alive.
Another letter from Iraq.

Ramadan Rebel
Is in the holding cell.
The brass looks away
while MPs give em hell.
Guantanamo rule book.
From Basra to Kirkuk.
Beat em’ in a bag,
and drop em’ in a well.

Iron Mike’s on patrol
his weapon status red.
He rolls out the gate
with a foot full of lead.
Tango’s on the hill,
looking for a kill.
Mohammad’s got him convinced
he’d be better off dead.

They lost another friend today.
It’s getting rough over there.
They say the food tastes like shit.
They miss the pussy, drugs and beer.

They say the whole things fucked.
I wish the boys were back.
At least I know they're still alive.
Another letter from Iraq.

Ali Babba’s on the offense
picking up the beat.
Delta needs an e-vac,
but the bird’s outa seats.
There’s a four man stack
outside the Haji Shack.
Bradley’s zipped in
calling Willie Pete.

There’s celebratory fire.
And a purple thumb vote.
Tom cruise is on a sortie
from a gulf love boat.
Smart bombs are a coming.
See the children running.
The dead are all laughing,
but we don’t get the joke.

They lost another friend today.
It’s getting rough over there.
They say the food tastes like shit.
They miss the pussy, drugs and beer.

They say the whole things fucked.
I wish the boys were back.
At least I know they're still alive.
Another letter from Iraq.

An eye for an eye.
And, blood for Texas Tea.
At the call to prayer
Al Queda’s on his knees.
Issac versus Ishmael.
Allah versus Christ.
Basic Training to Route Tampa
rolls in the F-N-Gs.

Mairnes say Sempi Fi
as they cross Highway Ten.
Uncle Sam’s in Highschool
Seeking a “few good men”.
Rummy’s in the Green Zone.
We’d all rather be home.
Where we can watch the war
On C-N-N

They lost another friend today.
It’s getting rough over there.
They say the food tastes like shit.
They miss the pussy, drugs and beer.

They say the whole things fucked.
I wish the boys were back.
At least I know they're still alive.
Another letter from Iraq.

the heretic

posted by: Whitebeard at 18:10 | link | comments |
us, war