It is only when their master’s
fight among themselves
in public places,
can embedded reporters
tell interesting tales
of the crypt.
Battlefield generals are now leaking
anger to the media
about how the Pentagon’s plan
of “shock and awe”
was based on “lies and bullshit.”
They were assured
that Iraqis would embrace them in Baghdad
and that maybe even Saddam
would wave old glory
liberated from his evil side.
Now they are shot at by guerillas
blown up by suicide bombers,
short of food and fuel
but with plenty of radiated sand
in need of a hundred thousand soldiers,
perhaps wandering in the desert
for another for another forty months.
Pentagon brass
tell them
to be cool,
the plan is still on target.
That Iraqis are practicing
the Star Spangled Banner.
Saddam is desperate.
See the light at the end of tunnel,
it’s a Burning Bush.
Headlines scream
of Saddam fighting dirty.
Like he’s wearing a mask and gouging eyes,
somebody better get the Wrestling commissioner.
Iraq should be suspended for
a month or more.
The half of America
that believes Saddam pulled 9/11
is emotionally damaged by such foul tactics.
We fight scientifically,
killing only collaterally,
torturing only by proxy,
our Gulag is in the balmy tropics.
Hey we’re the good guys
who come only
with food and doctors
and they try to kill us.
Even clean wrestlers
can break the rules
if the other guy
goes first.
Warning is given,
bunker busters are exploding,
fighting door to door in a city of seven million?
Hey use a nuke or two,
remember they started.
Ever wonder what it was like
to live in a country
where the media was government controlled?
And reporters acted like
Willy Loman
door-to-door salesman
peddling propaganda not shoe laces?
Awake, arise
and read your morning paper
where
Iraqis fight because Saddam forces them,
civilians are being killed only by Iraqis,
massive long intense battles occur
without American casualties
and
Britain bombards a city
in support of its inhabitants.
Read all about it.
Going around in circles
Getting dizzy, but the date never changes,
dusty or wet
it’s always 1984
The big Baghdadaddy battle
will have to be patient.
Iraqis and sand
are slowing the crusaders.
Guerillas, not cheering chewing gum crowds
lurk at the crossroads
of very bad planning
Waiting in the wings,
the Islam hating preacher,
Franklin “S.O Billy” Graham
who called Allah an evil punk.
He’s biting at the border
to bring Christ and Cracker Jax
to the heathens.
Wouldn’t be a proper crusade
without a burning cross.
Halliburton has the contract
to put out the flames
that burn the oil fields of Iraq.
Cheney used to run this racket
before he took over the country’s shadow.
Plenty money in the deal
putting out the inferno in all its circles.
The invasion became a war on Sunday.
Resisting Iraqis killed and captured Americans
who gave them a lot more than
name, rank and serial number.
One soldier said
he had nothing against Iraqis.
He would never shoot first.
Another soldier
with a newly Islamic name
fragged his officers,
maybe he thought he was in Vietnam?
God told Bush
Iraqi soldiers would be screaming
“Hey GI Joe, give me chocolate bar.”
And that it’s is a war crime to shoot at Americans.
Why would any enemy refuse our generous offers
of humiliation?
Marching on to Baghdad’s blood bath.
Fighting house to house to hell.
Embedded in the army
are reporters
finding press freedom defined
as only obeying orders.
Embedded
sounds like getting in bed with.
Bush making new policies
of pre-emptive wars
and conquering
nations
with shock and awe
and journalists
with a command performance
in his boudoir.
