UNBOUND BY HONOR

Unbound by Honor

Bound by honor, a sergeant's creed,
One observed to his bitter end,
Honored by buddies in word and deed
To honor their dying friend;
But the New York Times has no such care,
From nothing they'll refrain,
To show our enemies everywhere,
Our young sergeant's dying pain.

Vile bottom feeders such as these,
Supposedly seeking truth,
Sensation seeking sorry sleaze,
Violate our valiant youth.
No sense of honor have they,
Unlike the men they cover,
Seeking a slick and sleazy way,
Like wraiths of death they hover.

To Sergeant Leija I raise my arm,
In a heartfelt stiff salute,
And pray the Times comes to great harm,
Poisoned by their poisonous fruit.
I fear the time approaches,
When our troops seek retribution,
And squash these media roaches,
A tragic but understood solution.

Because our troops hold this belief,
The foe of their foe's their friend;
Friends of their foes will come to grief,
Face a dire and deadly end.
So the Times tries to defeat us,
Our enemies they defend,
Doing their Lefty best to beat us
Someday we'll see their end.

For years I've warned the media through poems and prose and puns,
Unwise it is to piss off those who hold, can use, the guns.