Flailing Flounders Fail Again

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The Flailing Flounders fail again
It's just that thing they do
They start a war where none should be
And then blame those they screw
Insisting that we all forget
The chances that they blew

For instance, one should never fight
In former colonies
Whose thirst for independence makes
Them very hard to please
With foreign occupation that
Just adds to their unease

Once freed from under foreign heels
The locals just can't stand
To have some armored men from Mars
Defiling their proud land
While shouting high-school English that
George Bush can't understand

And all those dogs of war in train
Who profit from the bone
That Dick and George have tossed at them
From their own doghouse throne
Cannot survive the daily drive
To IEDs now prone

Then, too, within the Green Zone walls
Where frightened puppets cow
And bombs go off on schedule with
No one who knows just how
It seems the "surge" has trickled down
To just a dribble now

Yet John McCain says "No Plan B,"
Which casts a mystic pall
Upon kept correspondents who
Would rather cringe and crawl
Before unmitigated crap
Designed to merely stall

For when no evidence of plans
From "A" to "Z" exists
Who cares what alphabet conceals
A crazy plot that twists
All logic out of shape and time
So that the crime persists?

So Mad Dog Bomber, John McCain,
Now finds himself adrift
In gale force winds from Dubya's gas
That John has too much sniffed:
A legacy of lunatics
That John sees as a gift

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright 2006