Friday, November 11, 2011

Peacock Pugilism

A terza rima sonnet in dishonor of America's most recent President to win the Nobel Prize for Peace:

The precious peacock poised upon his perch
Perspires profusely, pondering his plan.
In short: he must decide which way to lurch.

Not if, but when should he attack Iran?
How best prepare the public for this strike?
Which lies to tell, the flames of war to fan?

From where the ruler sits, what’s not to like
About the usefulness of nameless fear
And heads of Muslim preachers on a pike?

Self-satisfied, he grins from ear to ear
Reporting proudly of his latest kill.
No charge, indictment, trial, or verdict clear,

Just fiat disappearance, Newspeak swill:
Iraq and Vietnam -- again and still.

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright 2011

Labels: ,


Post a Comment

<< Home