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

The Boobies of America
Designed a warfare state
Or rather, simply let it grow
Till it became their fate
They never knew what laid them low
Till it was far too late

The ones who fed on Fear Itself
Required a bogeyman
To terrify the children so
That they from shadows ran
And never turned to face the fraud
Sold them as Heaven's Plan

They conjured Symbol Soldier as
The blindfold they would need
To keep from view their appetites
In all their naked greed --
Misfortune-telling Boobies found
That none would pay them heed

These prophets without honor in
No land except their own
Would chant Cassandra's message to
The power on the throne
Which simply disregarded truth
As old news overblown

George Washington told Boobies that
They shouldn't get entrapped
By clever foreign puppets who
Had Boobies clearly mapped
As erstwhile puppeteers who played
With string until they snapped

But Boobies loved to fondle rope
From which they'd often wrung
Confessions from some Boobie necks
And witches highly strung
Until the executioners
From their own gallows hung

Yet Alexander Hamilton
Said he had found a way
To muzzle standing armies with
Too much to do and say
Just meet at two-year intervals
And cut off needless pay

But in some intervals of years
With peace supremely blessed
The Boobies failed to concentrate
On demagogues obsessed
With reasserting tendencies
That always recrudesced

Dwight Eisenhower told the tale
As he walked out the door
Not that it seemed to bother him
When he patrolled the floor
What wisdom Boobie statesmen speak
When few care any more

Embarrassed by the Soviets
Who put a man in space
The Boobies of America
Found egg upon their face
It hurt them so to find themselves
In solid second place

So then for once in their career
The Boobies acted smart
They saw the need to educate
In science, math, and art
Then sprinted to the Moon so fast
That few had seen them start

But bored with doing something grand
The Boobies looked inside
To find an emptiness that called
For bragging, bumbling pride:
Reactionary panic geared
To conquer and divide

The Boobies loved to spout clich├ęs
Connecting up the dots
A simple game that they had played
Since they were little tots
Assuming as they did that this
Revealed some hidden plots

The warfare welfare monolith
And its expanding girth
Exhausted all resources in
The nation of their birth
Till Boobies neither knew the price
Nor what the beast was worth

From North and South no threat appeared
To East and West: just fish
The waters and the weak inspired
No Boobie death to wish
No danger left the Boobie kings
With no real dirt to dish

In terror at apparent Peace
The Boobie princes bawled
They'd longed to play Napoleon
Since on the rug they crawled
Their lust for misadventure made
Them jump each time it called

They said they needed "one last chance"
Just like the one before
Akin to others they called "last"
Till "last" became a bore:
A muddled Boobie meme that had
No meaning anymore

They say they'll need just "one last chance"
Before they need the next
Yet all of their "last chances" leave
Them in a funk and vexed
Unsure of why their "last chance" schemes
Just leave them more perplexed

They make great show of movement that
Retraces covered ground
Moonwalking on to Mars they claim
The answer to have found:
A way to blast off into space
Without making a sound

So as the last becomes the next
Before the last-next-last
The Boobies start to go around
In circles very fast
And spiral down the drainpipe from
The present to the past

The "last chance" moron monarch meant
To eat the cake he'd have
If given one last chance he swore
Some glaciers he would calve
To wound the world with endless war
That no known grief could salve

The chief commanding Boobie belched
And promised he would show
Some "victory" for all his waste
Just when, we'd some day know
Most likely when above his corpse
The graveyard grasses grow

It's all the same to him, it seems
No urgency applies
He hasn't seen his friends made food
For swarms of hungry flies
Or all his relatives laid down
Where even darkness cries

The ghoul's own gift he gives himself
And this he gladly gets:
Some slaughter on his plate piled high
With nothing he regrets
He sees Pandora's demons as
Domesticated pets

And so before he dines again
On one more "last chance" meal
The Boobie in command decides
What he intends to steal
From off the menu of the poor
Whose nightmares he's made real

A cell without a nucleus:
Some clueless cytoplast
Metabolizing meaning like
Assistants that he gassed
Commander Boobie's next plan reeks
Of what he's eaten last

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