Broken Toy Soldiers (poem)

By Mark Wilkerson

We buy broken hearts, and boil them in white pots
We mix 'em up, cook 'em up, and feed them to our dogs
And when the dogs have had their fill, and say they've had enough
We wait until they shit 'em up, and gather up the stuff

We put the hearts in buckets, and give 'em to the chefs
Who roll them out on baking sheets, and stick on top the chips
Then they throw them in the oven, and cook them till they're well
Then we feed them to the kiddies, who say "Gee sir, they're swell!"

Then we hand the kids a little flag, which they begin to wave
Stick 'em in the audience of a Veteran's Day Parade
As the troops go marching by, with flashbacks in their eyes
They see the bright-eyed angels, and they begin to sigh

For once a long, long time ago, they stood on the side
Till a recruiter came to them and told them all his lies
Then they're standing in an office, standing proud and tall
They look all around 'em, see a hundred others in the hall

They hold up their right hands, they say they'll do it all
Then we send them off to war, they see all around them fall
Kids, soldiers, dreams, hopes
Till all that stands are broken toy soldiers

Yes we buy broken hearts of now-childless moms
And sell them in ribbons in booths at strip malls
We buy broken hearts of now-widowed wives
Who work hard everyday to keep her kids alive
We buy broken hearts of now-broken men
Then make them re-enlist, for heartless men will do it again
We buy broken hearts of now-fatherless sons
Wait till they grow up, and sell them all our guns
Send them off to fight in a different-but-same war
Tell them "Hadji killed your dad," so they'll kill more and more
Yes, we buy broken hearts and stick 'em in our songs
We buy broken hearts and insert 'em in our speeches
We buy broken hearts and stick 'em on the back of our pickup trucks
We buy broken hearts to help our war machine go round
And soon one day we'll buy yours, and throw you in the ground