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Tilling the Man (poem)
By Horace Coleman
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When a most famous warrior leaves
the playing field for the slaying field,
it's not "wise" when his demise is by
the hand of some one in the same command.
When friendly fire tears friendly flesh,
war's haze can fill a maze of lies.
It began with those who chose
to burn the slain man's clothes.
By unwritten regulation (and with no hesitation),
those higher up the chain tried to bury
the blame before the man and avoid shame
by overly praising his already glittering name.
As usual, it was the stupid lie, not the anxious deed, that
announced fate's crime with a loud cracked chime.
—Horace Coleman
Mar 07
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