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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358498" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Agent Orange</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The thought, never came to my head<br>Never thought it could said<br>You see, He had truly cared for us<br>Like a mothering Hen making a fuss</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We had often hidden face first down<br>Thinking there was safety, <br>Lying on the ground<br>While Rockets, Guns, Claymores<br>Him and each round, screaming, <br>Keep your heads down</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How do I describe, War, Blinding White, <br>Thunder...<br>He had said. Dont be stupid, <br>Or make a blunder...<br>Thirteen months, <br>Now that's our lucky number<br>Just Rembember to thank God<br>That were not Six Feet Under</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>So we left that place</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That Red Powdered Clay, and the Sand<br>Caught a couple Red Tails<br>To our Homes Lands<br>Those Freedom Birds, From Black Hell<br>and Vietnam </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Home, Girls, Women, Maybe some kids<br>Making our plans</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Home at last...? <br>Safe...? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well... I spent twenty five years...<br>Just fixing my Head...? <br>...Even Now I only get three or four<br>Camping's no fun or<br>Trying to sleep in a bed...</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I went to tell him one day... Thanks...<br>And happy that we had not eaten... any lead...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He broke me... the news...Clyde, Buddy, <br>I'm already dead...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That Red Powdered Clay and the Sand<br>Agent Orange<br>They sprayed on the land<br>Seems it killed the trees, and this man<br>Killed by our own Government<br>Fighting for Freedom... And our lives...<br>In Nam...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now there's is no one<br>Our Government never cared for us...<br>They never shared...? <br>That Cancer...Never...No cure for us<br>But He Did...<br>His name... Lynn Newman Harris...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now after these forty some <br>Hell like years<br>We have all cried...shed millions... <br>Endless tears...<br>And still...<br>Yet even today his name never appears...<br>I've gone and looked...<br>At that Black Wall of Tears</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">For Lynn, He died from Agent Orange<br>He served at K'San, Vietnam...<br>He was my friend......</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Clyde Grant Bryson</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clyde+Bryson">Clyde Bryson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358498" data-title="Agent Orange de Clyde Bryson" data-description="The thought, never came to my head
Never thought it could said
You see, He had truly cared for us
Like a mothering Hen making a fuss

We had often hidden face first down
Thinking there was safety, 
Lying on the ground
While Rockets, Guns, Claymore..."></div>
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