Laughter hope sock in the eye's Blog

War-Junkie Worshipers

All who live to shoot and kill are really just one man:
Bonaparte and Patton, Alexander and his clan
Curtis Lemay, good ole Che, and the Son of Sam
Killers one and all. Why can’t you understand?

Glory, Glory Hallelujah–you can march and sing and shout
But an appetite for murder isn’t something one should tout
Don’t tell me that their cause was just. That ain’t what it’s about
‘Twas not for love of country Patton killed so many Krauts

It’s always a mistake to worship human beings
But idolizing killers is way beyond obscene
Actors, barons, rock stars, billionaires and queens
Should suffice for grownups who act like love-struck teens

Historians and novelists and tv talking heads
Reenactors and war-wankers who hail the happy dead
Are so quick to overlook so many who have bled
Perhaps they should revere blessed peacemakers instead

by Richard W. Bray

Spoils of Victory

The girl who showed (the dreary child)
With countenance both sad and mild
Was from a bloody land exiled

I’m told the nation of her birth
Is now a gory mound of earth
Warlords, weapons, wealth and worth

Unrestrained appetites will devour
And human beings will kill for power
Terror, torture, bloody towers

The weak and hateless are first to suffer
When demagogues urge us tougher
The meek will bleed; the rough get rougher

Life is fleeting, profits certain
And who is that behind the curtain?
Blackwater and Halliburton

It behooves the species to isolate
Those abject monsters who live for hate
Instead, we make them heads of state

To whom could we ever hope to atone
This fateful “error bred in the bone”?
Live, kill and die alone

Wash your hands, take a rest
Count the ways that you’ve been blessed
And struggle against all who would attest

That they drop bombs to make men free
While screen-addled drones like you and me
Consume the spoils of victory

by Richard W. Bray