Tuesday, May 15, 2007

"Stud Hamster Two Step"

From Fig Leaf Contingent to Buy Time Brigade
The foot-dragging stall looks the same
Just run out the clock till the new team arrives
Then curse them for losing the game

From Kissinger-Nixon to Cheney and Bush
The wooden-head perps haven't changed
They shill the old slogans and sink the old ship
Sounding ever more shrill and deranged

They say that withdrawal will threaten our troops
That from peace only more war will flow
They promise much worse before better days come
Because worse is the one thing they know

From "mission accomplished" they've marched to the rear
And will now start the mission real soon
In a few parts of Baghdad they've built some new walls
On advice from the man in the moon

The general's got so much time on his hands
That he spends it with eyes on the clock
Not content with the job he can't do in Iraq
He vacations on Washington's block

The lower ranks cringe at the thought that above
Only yes-men and fools rule the land
While the chief politician in charge of their fate
Tries to hire him a czar to command

The oxygen thieves and bad wastes of good skin
Couldn't care less for troops in distress
Their only concern now involves stepping out
To the tune of their own planned egress

The "Stud Hamster Two Step" in Texas they learned
In the gutter of politics there
They teamed up with rat-fucking Turd Blossom Rove
To dispense hot and rank-smelling air

Still Dick and his Deputy Dubya the Dumb
Never stopped once to think of the cost
That the victims would bear in a cruel war of choice
That our bumpkins first started, then lost

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright 2007

Custer's Next Stand

Fort Apache, Baghdad
Custer "going in"
Whack-a-Mole on steroids
Virtue cured by sin

Doin' dumb to dawdle
Stupid acting smart
In the trap for good now
Military art

Mini-skirted booty
Cheerleaders in thrall
"Block that kick!" the girls yell
When we've got the ball

Burger King on bases
Pizza Hut in tow
Mercenary merchants'
Dog-and-pony show

One-trick gag a let-down
Victory not near
Running out the clock now
Marching to the rear

Let's "fan out" and "get 'em"
Let's "go long" on fourth
Strategy by jargon
Going South through North

Making sense to no one
Maybe that's the point
Mystifying madmen
Let us now anoint

Custer's got a plan, though
Always letter "A"
Alphabet so simple
Any one can play

Next time we'll do better
What we've botched before
Southeast Asia, redux
Vietnam once more

Colonize the Muslims!
Crusade in Levant!
Rounding up "dead-enders"
Taking what we want

Israel and us now
Just the two in chains
One the other's patron
One the patron's pains

As in any marriage
Two have plighted troth
Master, slave, and inmates
Adding up to both

Others see a shack-up
Lust outside the law
Married man and mistress
Fighting to a draw

Custer says he "can do"
What he's never done:
Occupy the Muslims
Armed with but a gun

Inconclusive carnage
Wages paid to greed
Custer's followed order
Troops from life has freed

Custer doesn't like it
Now that "it" means death
Still, he says he'll "win" soon
With his dying breath

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright 2007

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Monday, May 14, 2007

Mini-Green-Zone Outpost Diaspora

What do we call our exposed and vulnerable soldiers that the Iraqi "dead enders" (Rumsfeld) "in their last throes" (Cheney) have captured? We can't call them POWs (Prisoners of War) since we already "won" the "war" on Iraq over four years ago, according to Sheriff Dick Cheney's propaganda catapulter, Deputy Dubya Bush. Perhaps we can call these poor souls POOs, for Prisoners of Occupation. Just a thought.

Anyway, in tribute to them and in concern at their plight, I've penned a few verse stanzas. Hence:

Mini-Green-Zone Outpost Diaspora

Far from the Green Zone Castle
In mini-Green-Zone forts
Our scattered forces "mingle"
With RPG retorts

Then when the ambush happens
The cavalry replies
And rides off to the rescue
With any handy guys

It takes perhaps an hour
Once timely news arrives
Of dead and captured soldiers
And lost Iraqi lives

Somewhere we've got a mission
That no one can explain
It promises to triumph
With just a bit more pain

For sure, we hear, our "leaders"
In uniform and not
With yet more blood and billions
Could plan an "ink stain" spot

They work in bits and pieces
A little here and there
And see some hints of "progress"
Just never any where

They travel to the future
And tell us what they've seen:
That things, absent their fuck-ups,
Would soon get really mean

We need them to continue,
They say of what they've done,
Because if we stop losing
The "bad guys" will have "won"

The country's off its rocker
When talk like this persists
While troop retention withers
And no one new enlists

Yet if they wreck the Army
Perhaps some good will come
For with no foreign legion
They might not act so dumb

It hurts to lose our soldiers
But many profit, too
So why give up the gravy
Slurped by the greedy few?

The country's lost its marbles
That such a thing should be
As suits and brass commanding
Naught but their perfidy

We've learned of those "belief tanks"
Where no one thinks of doubt
And "scholars" scream for "going in"
But not for getting out

We've got the dumbest "leaders"

Who ever walked the earth:
Those lowered expectations
Of less than zero worth

So tell us of the "new" plan
We cannot wait to hear
The brilliant scheme you've cooked up:
What next we have to fear

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright 2007