Duke Ellington Blue Story of a soldier
The lines on his face were etched with Rum

His eyes drooped down, they were battered folds of red

And veined with the purple fist of poverty

He had a 24 hour vacant look about him said he was OPEN to all offers

Scavenging for that one golden thread of hope that would save him from this

Abattoir of savage gloom
Sometimes he still strummed the notes on his shot gun guitar

His fingers like bloodied bananas fried and charred and out of shape

He was a shadow in his own land , an exile of no worth

His Army Fatigues were clubbed with glory

But his smile was cut with cremated dreams .