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Let this be a day, a month, a year, a
millennium of peace for all veterans and their
families.
Click on Peace Sign for history of the sign..
Click on above symbol for Veterans for Peace,
Inc.
To
us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day
will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of
those who died in the country's service and with
gratitude for the victory, both because of the
thing from which it has freed us and because of
the opportunity it has given America to show her
sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of
the nation.
armistice
(är"m¹-st¹s)
n. A temporary cessation of fighting by
mutual consent;
a
truce.
Armistice Day
(är"m¹-st¹s)
n. November 11, formerly observed in the
United States in commemoration of the signing of
the armistice ending World War I in 1918.
Food
Not Bombs
What
about the Mothers?
Article
Two
Article Three 
LOST IN WAR
 BY
Ben Siragusa
What stench drives farther
into field,
the
fruits of war I fear,
score
kept in bodybags, and tears,
men
reduced to boys, then back again.
Nameless
and faceless dead, the fodder of war,
discolor
in hues of red and tan, all they touch,
I
wonder if the night is becoming colder.
Hours
of life ending battle, theirs for now,
soon
mine, as I lie prostrate, cryptic by design,
feigned
death my stalking horse, but fear has a scent.
How
vulgar, desolate, and sad
the
burned land punished with shell, the loss suffered
by
mother and child in untold agony, in the stilled clock
of war,
I
wonder if the nights are getting longer.
The
air, noxious with decay moves closer,
silent
patter of prayer, bestows but moments of comfort,
in
the midst of waste and paralyzing fear,
I
hear the "beach boys", playing off in the
distance,
can
this be, my mind is numb,
I
smell burgers and fries, I hear laughter ring out,
I
wonder if the nights are getting to me.
The
slow chain-like clink and grind of tank tread, wakes
me to terror,
accompanied
by pounding feet, and language of the enemy,
I
smell fuel, I'm in the throes of death,
I'm
numb, save for being so very cold, and afraid,
my
shroud will be army green, how ugly a thought,
what
a sad passage, I wish I could hug my Mom and Dad,
I
wish I could say goodbye, what will they imagine of my
death,
Lord,
don't let them suffer, I wonder if death will hurt,
I
need wonder no more.
This poem was by written by Ben
Siragusa of Liverpool, New York.
© 1999 Ben Siragusa
All
rights reserved.
Patriotic Article Collection
Click on devil to read an
interesting article
"The
Devil made me do it."
PEACE
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here for patriotic midis
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