Writings Of Boondockers Poetic Justice Members
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Site Awards
Lighter Side Of BPJ
Lighter Side #2
Lighter Side #3
LIGHTER SIDE#4
4TH OF JULY 2003
THE KOREAN WAR REMEMBERED /July 27,1953-July27,2003 50 years

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THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER

Minds drifting, lost in the jungles mist,
Decades of loneliness and loved ones missed
A homeland clouded by torture and pain
Will my body rest upon American soil again?

Was my home but a young mans dream?
Foreign names such as Montana are screamed
I believe that was where my soul was born
Its been so long that my sanity is torn

What year is this, where have I been?
My last recollection was Con Thien
The cage, the chains, the march of death
Head held inches above water gasping for breath

I think as a man, in words I understand
As I sit in darkness wringing my scarred up hands
But when I speak and when I plead
The language I utter is Vietnamese

God, my hope has faded; it has been way to long
I was young and with age my strength is gone
The faces of my family are strangers to me
How long, how long, have I been in captivity?

ly Chúa!, ly Tri!
không âu bng nhà ḿnh
nó b ngi khác khng ch
b danh t chin s vô danh
ly Chúa!, ly Tri! Phóng khác khng

(Roughly Translated)
Please God
Theres no place like home
I cannot call my soul my own
Set free, the Unknown Soldier
Please God, release my soul

Take me home,
That I may drift no more

©December 30, 2003 

 Richard D. Preston

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Thanks to all our Veterans who stand out among the rest. Thank God
for this country, our Flag, and the monuments that let the world
know that freedom is not free.


Blind Justice

Old Glory's flying high
A little frayed around the seams
But it proudly displays the colors
And hopes of the American dream

It doesn't mean much to some
And means nothing at all to others
But the red in my country's flag
Represents the shed blood of my brothers

Just below Old Glory
Fly's a flag of mourning black
Its there to remind us each and every day
Of our brothers that never made it back

Some refuse to acknowledge it
More often it's just ignored
Much like our missing brothers
The captives of a distant war

There's a Wall of glossy Granite
That stands in Washington, DC
It reflects mens courage every day
People still fail to see

They know it's a shrine of remembrance
And marvel at the polished stone
But are blind to the brothers weeping
For friends who never made it home

There are none so totally blind
As those who will not see
That some wounds will never heal
And blood still flows for liberty

Thank God for our flag and brothers
And for America's monuments and shrines
For without them the cost of freedom remains
Out of sight and out of mind

Boon

©1/10/04

Richard D. Preston


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Serenity Sunday

A winter Sunday morning
The world is standing still
Church bells softly ringing
The air is frosty and chilled

The suns peeking over the mountain
Rising slowly in the East
Golden rays of sunshine
Seeking sweet release

There's something about a Sunday
That calms the inner soul
The serenity and peace
Makes shattered lives seem whole

White steeples pointing upward
Towards the blue heavens above
There's something about God's House
That radiates warmth and love

I wish every day could be a Sunday
And its peace would flood the land
That all wars would subside
That we could be a Brotherhood of Man

That we could know world peace
No more taking lives in war
And that we could all feel welcome
Knocking at each others door

Race and origin wouldn't matter
Nor the color of a mans skin
Oh that the morrows Monday
Could be Sunday morning again

 ©1/11/04

Richard D. Preston