Somewhere in a
muddy rice paddy
lies a lucky rabbits foot,
bloodstained and buried
forever in the muck of war past
not all who grew up
enjoyed or detested
the country life
and the raising up
of animals for slaughter...
and thus the city boys
who only hunted at best
weekend brews and babes
were inducted into the Marines
and their new adopted father
was the drill instructor
who disciplined them with
fear and pain and compassion
he taught them to think
of living beings as enemies
when the situation called for it
and to inflict deadly damage
on any who would dare to attack
the Semper Fi forces,
farmed out to foreign lands
we became the white meat
sought for slaughter
and so we slew and slew again,
and men died like rabbits,
pelted not in fur but in lead,
rabbits who bit back
in explosive bursts of rage,
but we rid them not with BB's
but with lead ballooning inside,
and body bags replaced pillow cases
for the remnants of what
our leaders ordered killed.
Later if your aim was good,
and you showed immense courage
under the hare triggers
of their sharpshooters,
you were given little ribbons
much like the ones country boys
won at fairs for their prized rabbits
and a medal hung below to mark
your rabid, rapid responses.....
when the need to kill came due.
