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The Right War

The war Machine the war machine oiled by the blood of man,
the war machine the war machine consuming every flag it can.
The battles we fight get more technical every day,
and destroys nature and where children play.
From toy soldiers to a fighting man,
with guns and bombs or hand to hand
the best of the best walk land to land
supporting their countries own war plan.
Yet, in the end will any one see
the thing they all call victory.
For after the battle what place does glory give,
in a country where the conquered painfully live.
I believe it's time we fought a war of wit,
with the outcome of a planet that's perfectly fit.
Not just for peace or love of each man,
but, to preserve life and nature right where we stand.
For Life is a blessing and should be treated as one,
combine it with nature and the wars will be done.

Truth Peace Tranquility (TPT)
Stanley Victor Paskavich
Author of Stantasyland

All Enemies Foreign and Domestic

America's fighting an unpopular war,
many of our soldiers have died or seen gore.
Some will have injuries until they reach their death,
from the oath that they swore with dutiful breath.
Our country is strong, our nation is proud,
thank all our soldiers with praises out loud.
Don't judge our leaders for choices they make,
doing this could be ones biggest mistake.
Remember great nations often fall from within,
loosing faith in our leaders could lead to the end.
I salute you my comrades both living and dead,
may you be blessed for the oath that you've said.
May your gift to this country be service, or death,
not ever fall silent on your country mans breath.

Stanley Victor Paskavich
Author of Stantasyland

Love far away

As she slept in the moonlight through her window.
Dreaming of her soldier far away,
She had sand in her eyes from where he stay.
Her Lover was in Iraq with many others
So far from all their fathers and their mothers.
Defending the American way.
As she slept with the moonlight through her window,
she tossed and turned through most of the night.
Praying God would look over her dear soldier
and for them to soon be together
in each others arms filled with delight.
All she could dream of was her lover
fighting for freedom where he stay.
Hoping he would return to her one day.
But, she knew that he must right now serve his country
and for this he might have to give his life,
yet, she also knew after his duty
if he returned he would make her one proud wife.
Stanley Victor Paskavich
Author of Stantasyland

Sending Them Home

Body bags,Toe tags assorted pieces galore.
Once they were a soldier, now their my minds horror.
I am only treated I never will be well.
I walk as people stare at me in my living Hell.
I did my job in the morgue to the best of my ability.
Now the morgues trapped in my thoughts,for me to always see.
Many colors, sounds and smells are triggers in my mind.
but, I'd send my comrades home, again time after time.
The closure I helped give to the families of the dead,
was the sacrifice my mind endured leaving me in dread.
We gave the fallen the most respect a soldier could ever see,
and I have no regrets for the pain that's trapped inside of me.
PT-SD and a Bi Polar mind will be with me to the end,
but, even though I suffer I'd do it all again.
Years ago suicide seemed like the only thought I knew,
As I sat and drank heavily it seemed like the thing to do.
The pills I take to go to sleep get weaker every year,
the tears I find in my eyes respect the fallen dear.
The VA does the best they can with my splintered mind,
yet, I fear it may burn out somewhere down the line.

Stanley V. Paskavich
Author of Stantasyland


I've seen war I've been to Hell,
With human parts that looked liked gel,
and some things I could not tell,
that makes me not feel very well.
Until I say my last farewell,
or God does ring my final bell.
They'll be trapped within my mortal shell,
inside my mind where the pain does swell.
I scream and cry and laugh and yell,
from the ward or from my cell.
It's Like I'm under some ones spell,
and into their grips I have fell.
There's no reason to rebel,
this is my pain in which to dwell.
That holds no way to dispel.
Stanley Victor Paskavich
Author of Stantasyland

Written from my own experiences during Desert Storm

Brotherhood Lost

There he sits in an alley with his finger in a can for the last drop of grease,
wearing pieces of a uniform which once stood for pride and supported peace.
This lost homeless soldier once was so gallant and brave,
now often he sits chilled and hungry awaiting his grave.
Soldier's are trained to be brave and look fear eye to eye,
thousands are homeless laying in alleys wishing to die.
Countless money is spent teaching men how to survive,
yet, when they return to the Urban's they live barely alive.
Employers sometimes won't hire a veteran mainly out of fear.
They're stuck on the movies where a soldier cuts a man ear to ear.
Soldiers are trained to rise to the call,
they're not blood thirsty maniacs wanting bodies to fall.
All soldiers are told to have faith in their leaders and God up above,
I salute you my comrades and pray you find serenity, peace and love.
It's not just our leaders that need to make the plan
our veteran's need help from each and every woman and man.
Lets pray the religions can donate some money too.
for the sacrifices those made for GOD country and you.

Stanley Victor Paskavich
Author of Stantasyland

My brother was drafted in 68 then away he was gone,
he came back after boot camp it wasn't real long.
There he stood in a green suit with his Maroon beret,
I knew that a soldier I would be one day.
After his leave he went to Vietnam,
I was to young to know long he was gone,
I got dad's mail there were no stamps to see,
Where they belonged were just the words Free.
I was too young to understand,
but soon he came home a whole different man..
Now he walks with things trapped in his head,
often he tells me he wished he was dead.
I fulfilled my dream and joined the the Air force,
I went in freely without any force.
I had great times with the airmen and the things we did see,
I was proud to see the blue beret given to me.
This is my B52 you cant take it away,
it's nuclear weapons are not for play.
I was the best at what did do,
The US Air force really trains you.
My supervisor and did not get along,
they sent me to a psychologist my beret was gone.
I was in Hawaii when this tragedy came,
it tormented my soul and tortured my brain.
I was in the NCO Club draining my glass,
when I met a woman who really had class.
We drank our drinks and then walked in the rain,
She was so beautiful and relieved all my pain.
We were both Staff Sergeants and didn't know then,
twenty one years later she'd still be my friend.
She gave me twin boys and a beautiful girl,
She loves me so much it makes my heart whirl.
From Security Police with a badge and a gun.
I was now in Services Squadron with a dormitory to run.
I passed all inspections it was simple for me,
The Colonels were pleased with all they did see.
The Wing Commander called me by my first name.
The officers looked at him like he was insane.
My First Sergeant was the best friend I had,
The first name thing sometimes made him mad.
Then one day a war it did start,
I volunteered for dessert storm to do my part.
I flew to Dover Delaware the Port Mortuary,
The workings of a morgue is hard to see.
When it was over I went back to my base,
My mind filled with memories time will not erase.
KI Sawyer was closing you could take a bonus and run,
a severance pay for all the jobs I had done.
I started drinking heavily and depression set in,
A rifle in my mouth was often my friend.
After many times my wife said to me,
get help or pull the trigger this is too much to see.
I went to bed and in the morning I said,
"take me to a doctor before I am dead".
She drove to a psychiatrist in a hard rain,
this was my first step to handle my pain.
My doctor and I were starting to get around,
then in lake Superior the poor man did drown.
This was another soul that I took in,
I prayed to Jesus for one day to win.
We moved back to my wife Sheli's home town,
I went to Danville V.A. and the best doctors I've found.
Now I am well treated I take my meds. each day,
others laugh about me you should hear what they say.
I am Bi-Polar with PTSD I take my meds. and sometimes see,
Often at night I see silver bullets and body bags,
and some of the names on the toe tags.
I still wake from screams and often the sweats,
I did my duty I have no regrets.
I was there to give some relief,
To all of the family's encompassed in grief.
We dressed our Comrades complete with medals and pins,
We put them on aircraft to sail in the wind.
All branches of military were on my shift,
I could look in their eyes and see their minds drift,
I would crack jokes to all fifteen of my men,
They weren't my subordinates they were all my friends.
When the enemy gave in and the ground war was over,
I knew that soon I would be leaving Dover.
The Colonel in charge put us all in a group,
He stood in front staunchly addressing the troops.
He thanked all of us for the Job that had been done,
The Chaplin Praised Jesus for the war that we won.
And my comrades this was my hardest day,
When the bugle Sounded and Taps it did play.
I looked at the Colonel with a tear in his eye,
mine streamed down my face and hardly cry.
It's been many years and a man asked me?
Stan would you do it over? I said "yes over and over, again"!
Because serving your Country isn't a Sin.
God Bless America
And The American Fighting Man.
Stanley Victor Paskavich
Technical Sergeant USAF, Disable Vet Desert Storm/Desert Shield.

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