Grunts
we do things
no one else wants to
we normalize killing
they normalize us dying
boot, get the shovel
body parts, no
body pieces
grab the tweezers
IEDs leave little
civilians balk
we mock their talk
they think they can
we know they can’t
life is short
save your retort
take the pen and sign
who do you define
we are Grunts
We hold the line
We
We need good guys
We need bad guys
We need jocks
We need nerds
We need the poor
We need the rich
We need the in betweens
We need the ditch
We need to be different
We need to be the same
We need justice
We need to blame
We need balance
We need radicals
We need debauchery
We need sabbaticals
We are sentient
We are human
We are free
Don’t let that get in the way of being We
Us
A transcendent scent
Never leaves the senses
Air itself smelled like death
A sweetness gone sour
They killed
We killed more
Lives lost to timelessness
One less insurgent
One less IED
One less KIA
One less WIA
Nothing else mattered
All we had was Us
The Freak Show
Michael Jackson freaky-freaky
Jundis were more like tweaky-tweaky
Hurria means freedom
That freedom meant death
Cemetery’s, mortuaries, all alive
At least they didn’t have far to drive
Stainless steel in the underbelly
Dried blood and smelly
War is hell and I’m to blame
You’ll never shake my hand the same
Broken glass and fetuses
Broken bodies oozing ounces
Mop up in aisle Iraq
Stay frosty or join the stack