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The Price
we should have learned
in Vietnam... but no,
we keep aggressively
opening the doors...
keep our finger on the pulse
of those we would control...
wherever there's a dollar to be made!
we liberate for profit!
while in smoke filled rooms the
plans are made, ... to dominate,
to shape, and to destroy....
and somehow freedom becomes
enslavement... it's all good!
the bodies of women and children
killed without thought,
rot and stink in the ditches.
oil, power, turn the dollar wheel!
with 'God' on our side,
fear and lies as our tool....
do we dare sleep at night?
body bags and flags a waving....
but in the end,
who will pay...
the price?
poem
by
Eric Cockrell
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