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No One Here


Old Guy
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No One Here

Of men who lived the iron dream,

no one here can speak the names.

Gunship pilot and gunner, warriors,

long dead in smoke and flame.

I see them still.

They soar in paddy scented air,

perched high above the land,

hunt men on retread shoes,

steel and plastic in their hands.

Cobra dives,

rends tree and man as one.

Mini-gun fangs strike deep,

rockets scour the ground.

Beware mortality!

Twelve-point-seven style.

Fiery blooms leap skyward,

orange-yellow in the sun.

Green metal twists to black,

flesh to bone and bone.

Burn bright, warriors,

scribe thy names in jungle sky,

burn into eternity.

JR Hume

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