About: Letter Home From A Body Bag

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About: Letter Home From A Body Bag Sponge Permalink

An Entity of Type : owl:Thing, within Data Space : 134.155.108.49:8890 associated with source dataset(s)

for Poets For Peace This is my last letter home, just enough time to say goodbye to dad and mom, all my friends, roses in the hedge, the street corner poet selling words, the street corner church selling words, the street walker selling words. This is to be my last letter home, to Tom, Dick, Sally, Fred, Spot and Sue. If I could only be there to see the looks on their faces but I?m going to war and they wouldn't recognize me or my street corner face. My camouflaged face.

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rdfs:label	Letter Home From A Body Bag
rdfs:comment	for Poets For Peace This is my last letter home, just enough time to say goodbye to dad and mom, all my friends, roses in the hedge, the street corner poet selling words, the street corner church selling words, the street walker selling words. This is to be my last letter home, to Tom, Dick, Sally, Fred, Spot and Sue. If I could only be there to see the looks on their faces but I’m going to war and they wouldn't recognize me or my street corner face. My camouflaged face.
dcterms:subject	Poems User/WayneRay
abstract	for Poets For Peace This is my last letter home, just enough time to say goodbye to dad and mom, all my friends, roses in the hedge, the street corner poet selling words, the street corner church selling words, the street walker selling words. This is to be my last letter home, to Tom, Dick, Sally, Fred, Spot and Sue. If I could only be there to see the looks on their faces but I’m going to war and they wouldn't recognize me or my street corner face. My camouflaged face. This should be my last letter home, where in my old bedroom sat my trunk filled with old letters, old dreams, uniform and ammo case, journals. No one will read them because I never sparked a magic fire in their hearts strong enough to melt the stones and ice in their illiterate minds. Is this my last letter home, where, when I was there, the light was on, the day I ran away to join the war. Reach out and read me. Read my books, plays, poetry, never more those false smiles when I call. This is to be my last letter home, one copy to you, one to her and one to each friend who greeted me first, smiled, saved a life, shared my feelings for peace. Anyone who is better now than when they started, one to the clubs I belong to and the ones I wanted to, and maybe one to some of your friends. This should be my last letter home, to ask for love, world of freedom. Can you say luck? No, to you a soldier is a distant thing, to me it's duty at all cost, people, death, dogs, acid rain, diamonds in the rough. Is this my last letter home? You're damn right it is and you know it! I've been hiding my feelings on paper, writing between the lines of all my poems, stories, plays, trying to reach only you. Wanting you to say, I understand... I know I understand you... really I do. YOU'LL COME TO MY GRAVE STONE WHERE I WILL FOREVER BE ALONE HOLDING THIS LETTER BROUGHT FROM HOME STILL THINKING IT'S ONLY ANOTHER POEM WayneRay 13:19, 2 December 2007 (UTC)WayneRay

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