History and Rice Paddies
He spits into the darkness
and hears echoes of nothingness
Overhead, clouds chase the moon
shredding themselves as they move
He's absorbed in thoughts hardly profound
while flanked by rain-soaked ground
he silently questions this moment of insanity
would it be enshrined in his Nations' history
Thoughts scatter in the warm rain
heavy acrid air mixes with stinging pain
'Tis a bad dream for a useless quest
as he's surely the uninvited guest
The wafting odor of cordite
drifts across the rice paddies all night
knee deep in the stench of the fields
he wears his luck as a personal shield
He longs to journey back home
to where comfort is easily owned
the night draws a crimson curtain
that morning light will reveal for certain
This young man, American born
questions this obvious shit storm
and bleeds for Democratic ideals
that are embodied in Capitalist schemes
He spits dark blood for history
while entwined in a meaning he cannot see
