This page is dedicated to all men and women
that has served in the Armed Forces
And gave of themselves so that we can be free.


Oh, Vietnam Vet, what happened then
You fought a war you could not win.
A land of heat and rain and sun
It was a war you could have won!
Our hands were tied, our guns were empty.
Our hearts were in it, but not our Country.
We envisioned in it, that time of war
The crowds, the streamers, the bands galore.
But what we got when we returned
Were protest marches, and flags that burned.
Oh, Vietnam Vet, the war is over now

 Michael D. Szyska Sr.


Torn and Tattered

Old Glory your a proud old flag

As proud as proud could be.

From Iwo Jima to the shores of Nam

Men fought and died to keep you free

So if you see a flag that's Torn and Tattered

well you'll know what to do!

Michael D. Szyska Sr.




I'm an American, born in America, raised on American soil.
I like the freedom, and life in America, I do not mind the work and soil.
Ill stand up and fight for freedom; I want to keep America free.
And if you are a real true American, you'll stand and fight with me.

America is not an aggressive nation, but well stand up and fight.
We like to live and we like to love, and we like to do what's right.
We do not like to live by the rule of the gun,
we want the whole world to be free.
But December 1941, has made a lot of history.

Our forefathers gave us, the opportunity to be free.
Were proud to claim the ownership, to stature-of-liberty.
Our uncle “Sam” will never let us, fall to the enemy.
The men and women of the U.S.A. will fight ‘till’ eternity.

Yeah, I'm an American, born in America, raised on American soil.
I like the freedom and life in America, I do not mind the work and toil.
When the going tough, the tough gets going, that's what Americas about.
If you're not a real true American, you ought to be a getting out.

By Joe Stocks- June, 1986




They said, "You are no longer a lad."
I nodded.
They said, "Enter the council lodge."
I sat.
They said, "Our lands are at stake."
I scowled.
They said, "We are at war."
I hated.
They said, "Prepare red war symbols."
I painted.
They said, "Count coups."
I scalped.
They said, "You'll see friends die."
I cringed.
They said, "Desperate warriors fight best."
I charged.
They said, "Some will be wounded."
I bled.
They said, "To die is glorious."
They lied.

Phil George


He was a gentle man who stood with pride,
His body was ebbing like the outgoing tide.
His walk was slow, for age took its toll,
To live but one season was his goal.
Passing two lads in the park,
He noticed something, though almost dark.
There was a cloth on the ground,
A cloth that the boys had recently found.
With cold gray eyes he looked their way,
Then tears fell as be bowed to pray.
God, give me strength, show me what to do,
To teach them respect for the red, white and blue.
Mister, why are you crying, what did we do?
It's just an old rag that's red, white and blue.
That cloth you call just an old rag,
Is Old Glory, our nation's flag.
There's 13 stripes and 50 stars,
Blood was shed for those bars.
Each star represents one great state,
Pick up the flag, it's not too late.
But mister, why are you angry, oh what did we do?
It's still just a rag that's red, white and blue.
He bent is head and closed his eyes,
Then looked at the boys and said with a sigh,
This is your flag, a sight to behold,
A symbol of freedom worth more than gold.
Our freedom to speak and think as we choose,
For this our ancestors paid their dues.
They fought in wars, and gave their lives,
Fever took their children and their wives.
These were your families as well as mine,
We put their honor on the line.
So our flag can fly for all to see,
Symbolizing freedom for you and me.
Mister, we're so sorry, what can we do?
We'll brush off the dirt from the red, white and blue.
And put up a pole here in the park,
Fly her with pride from morn' till dark.
The three stood still and silence was strong,
The boys knew now why they were wrong.
As they gazed upon that tattered flag,
Their hearts told them this was no rag.
Though dirty and torn, she flew that day,
"That's our flag," he heard them say


I'll wave to all of you, as you leave
when it's time for you to go.
As you sail from sea to shining sea
take the colors of your home.

Take me with you, wherever you go
keep me in your heart each night.
And if you forget what you're fighting for
remember me, in flight.

Take me out to the battleground,
and then tear me into shreds.
Wrap the bleeding wound with me,
and bind the aching head.
Plunge me into coldest water
to soothe the fevered brow.
Tie me across the shattered limb,
I'll support it now.
Let me dry the homesick tear,
and hold closed, the gaping chest,
for here, in the field, where hope is lost
I am at my best.
And then, burn what is left of me,
for warmth into the night.
So I may bring comfort, where there is need
and courage, for the fight.

My red is deeper, for the blood you've shed.
My white is purer, for your pain.
My blue will be bluer than the deepest sea
when you come home again.

Then I'll rise to the top of the flagpole,
where my colors are always flown,
and from there, when the war is over
I'll wave, to welcome you home.


TO A VETERAN*********
You trudged through swamps and dusty roads,
flew over mountains high.
You sought to serve this country,
even if it meant you'd die.
They call you many names,
Army, Navy and Marine.
You could be know as Coast Guard
or served on an Air Force team.
You may look like a bum to me,
or the neighbor from next door.
Perhaps I can't imagine that
you ever served in war.
You may have sat behind a desk
or walked a foreign shore.
It matters you were
willing t "fight a little more."
I do not take my freedom light.
It means a lot to me.
It means you Veterans had the
guts to keep our country free.
It means those of us that stayed behind,
praying you might yet come
home, tried to reassure
you that you were no alone.
To people who would
burn the Flag, please
think before you do, about
what's in its history and
what it should mean to you.
God bless America and God bless you.
by Vickey Stamps in 1996,
October 20th.
(I wrote one about the Persian Gulf
and about the boys there ,
also one about a homeless
man who was a vietnam vet once.)
Take care and God Bless you and yours. Vickey Stamps.


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