Boobie Bozo Bellicosity
(from Fernando Po, U.S.A., America's post-literate retreat to Plato's Cave)

The creepy Joseph Lieberman
And Mad-Dog John McCain
Teamed up to send more troops abroad
And from their bodies drain
Whatever blood they hadn't lost
To bring these two some gain

These sorry Boobie Senators
Had bet on the wrong dog
Who couldn't hunt a single wart
Upon a single frog
Not even if the little toad
Sold roadmaps to his bog

King George the Worst had suckered them
Into a war gone wrong
He promised them a codpiece but
Delivered not a thong
Which left their little weenies shrunk
And hardly looking "strong"

Exposed as dimwit demagogues
Of evanescent heft
These weightless-wonder warriors
Got robbed by their own theft
They charged off to the right when all
The others had turned left

They thought that wooden-headedness
Made virtue of the vain;
Hobgoblins of consistency,
These little minds made plain
That tiny statesmen such as them
Seek shelter in the slain

The Theory of Contrariness
Obsessed this Ho and Hum
As Tweedle is to twaddle, John
Played "Dee" and Joe played "Dum"
And battled for the rattle of
Their silly little plum

Like sponsoring "amendments" that
No court would not strike down
They thought it safe to advocate
More GI lives to drown
Since ice would form in Hell before
That plot left Tinsel Town

This shouting at the howling wind
They thought made them look brave
For offering more sacrifice
That others wished to save
Which only made them seem like boys
Not old enough to shave

The fanboy fascist treehouse branch
On which they sit and saw
Has signs that read "No Girls Allowed!"
As if this lays down law
A double-dare for gravity
To prove both shock and awe

A feckless fruit of faithlessness
They offer up to eat
Which claims that all the dead and gone
Require still more dead meat
An appetite both ravenous
And never quite replete

This hunger fed will only grow
As nothing can appease
The lust of petty princes for
Some other lives to seize:
Laid down in mortuaries where
Upon a slab they freeze

Some time in solitary had
Left Mad-Dog John insane
And dedicated to the task
Of bringing others pain
His martial virtues he supposed
This way he could regain

He'd dropped some bombs, then crashed into
The victims of his crime
Who then insisted that he pay
By doing some hard time
Which only left him more convinced
Of war as peace sublime

But Holy Moralizin' Joe,
Likudnik Lieberman,
Had other countries on his mind
Whose interested plan
Required some young Americans
To hit the shitty fan

Not satisfied with subsidies
Extorted from his own
Ol' weepin' Joe would gladly throw
More death at what he's sown
Already, with some dead GIs
Not quite yet fully grown

Yet even as no Zionists
Patrol the Baghdad streets
Still Holy Joe would have GIs
Lie stiff beneath the sheets
So he can beat the drum for the
Israeli tune he bleats

By pounding hapless foreigners
Mad-Dog and Holy Joe
Sought each to serve his purposes
Through "thoughts" both bad and slow
Which demonstrated heedlessness
Of life they cannot know

Thus Mad-Dog John and Holy Joe,
The Boobie Bozo twin,
Set out to double-down the dead:
A blackjack bet on sin;
By losing even more GIs,
They thought that they could "win"

Of course, those dead Iraqis have
No role to play in this
Except to serve as extras in
A sick nocturnal bliss:
A senile wet-dream: two limp dicks
Too old to barely piss

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright 2006

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright © 2006