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

In Boobie Red-state USA
The patriots don't roam.
They egg on someone else to fight
While they stay safe at home
Attending tail-gate parties at
The local Astrodome

"My country right or wrong!" they chant
Within an eyelash blink.
"My mother drunk or sober," say
The ones who've stopped to think.
"We don't give Mom the car keys when
She's had too much to drink!"

Yet power acts just like a drug
Like whiskey at its worst
Anaesthetizing brain cells while
Exacerbating thirst
Till little drunken boys and girls
Resort to warfare first

When adolescents cannot get
Whatever they want now
They pout and stomp and throw a fit
And wrinkle up the brow
Which signals to their parents that
They want it anyhow

Like Secretary Albright fumed
When Clinton told her "No,
We cannot level Belgrade just
To show your machismo."
"Why even have an Air Force, then?"
The madam wished to know.

So Bill relented, finally;
He wished so much to please
And sent a flight of bombers
To enforce his stern decrees.
He got the address wrong, of course,
And blew up some Chinese

And Boobie Bubba couldn't get
The Chinese point of view
They had so many people and
He'd only killed a few
(So why, since he felt so much pain,
Could he not cause some, too?)

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