The Rip Post                                                                                              


SPRING
Awareness of
pain, bombs
falling like rain,
war is the
ultimate
obscenity.

Captains of
military
industrial
complexity
pursuing
profits
vexatiously,
not ones to
win graciously
and go home.

In for a dime,
in for a dollar,
hogs at the through,
let's whoop and holler.
Cowboy bandit kings,
claiming born-again
credentials, proof of
their crimes is
plainly evidential.

Devil's in the details,
demons in the cornfields,
oil drumbeat fleecing
the flock on Sunday,
can't afford to drive
the car on Monday.

Holy cow, and Holy Joe,
holy smokes, how now
high sheriffs of the
lost platoon, Blackbeard's
bride claims the last doubloon.

Wrap it up clean,
wrap 'em up tidy,
bulldoze 'em under,
put the world
to the torch,
screaming
the blues until
we're hoarse.

The saga continues,
the world still turns,
sweethearts yet yearn
for peace and harmony
but the wait will be
long and sad is the song
of the never-known spring.

---Jack Oakes
4/16/03

 

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