Censorship is to art as lynching is to justice.



Circumstances compel me speak

Ye gods, (for you have them);

From the first of the world

Down to our own time

Don’t frown, don’t shake your head,

Listen to this elegy for a passing time instead.,

A soldier silenced, banned, expelled, made dead.

While life continues, makes the crops no longer joyous.

The sheep forgot, the cattle, bees unkept.

Be thrifty with  feelings, words, we were taught,

Seek to cultivate the goodness of mankind

Feel free. Express yourself. Be yourself.


Fauns and Dryads allow us to sing with unfettered

Fertility in sun or snow or drear November weather.

We left our native towns and easy afternoons,

And went to war. Why?

When now we are spat upon by those who chose civilian life,

A job, comfort, money, wife.

Gods and goddesses preserve us

From these pacific wretches.

He who calls for help and succour

Relies upon the soldier trim.

Myrtle speaks of loves and losses

The sea and land and sky which covers all the world

Was kept from chaos by these men who wore the uniform of the state

Redemption? It is ne'r too late. .



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◄ The eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month



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