This Poem was Submitted By: George R Palmer On Date: 2000-11-18 19:00:36 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Flag

Is America being sold bit by bit, and if so why are we allowing it? The flag that we fly once spoke of our pride, for those men and women who fought bravely and died. But now she hangs there suspended in air, while apparently some feel that she shouldn't be there. The old ones who said her colors don't run, have children who trample and burn her for fun. They don't feel the spirit for which she was sewn, and don't give a damn as to why she is flown. Their pride is shown by who they can kill, the women they rape, and the blood that they spill. Their courage is made up of liquor and drugs, and they call themselves hero's, when their no more than thugs. It won't be long if we don't change our way that you'll only see this flag laid in display, In some museum with oh say can you see, this was our flag when America was free.

Copyright © November 2000 George R Palmer

Additional Notes:
meat to get this out for veterans day but missed.


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