The War on Terror

They convicted me of arson
They convicted me of treason
They ask me why I do these things
So I kick 'em in the head

Then we start to dance
And things go right for me
But I get twenty more on my sentence
Twenty more for free

That's why I'm going to war

They give me this big coat
And a real tight belt
I look like an ape
And cry out for help

The room isn't big
I walk in my head
I pave my own roads
And paint them all red

That's why I'm going to war

Questions with answers
I love my mother
I may have misplaced her shoes
Go, ask another

I drown in their neckties
And drink in their hair dyes
We talk about Elvis
And scream about Presley

That's why I'm going to war



Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 515 times
Written on 2009-01-15 at 09:12

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You write about the squadies so brilliantly Michael, I always have thought it criminal, to give young convicted men in your country a choice of jail or getting killed in a war that isn't even theirs to fight. I assume the sentence you get, is twenty if you are lucky enough to live and be able to live with the horrors of war? Your truths in the penultimate stanza, were that of a young man who love him mother and your final stanza brought back memories of Elvis going into the army all those years ago. You are a star, don't let them get you angry.

Smiling at you in the face of every mothers worst terror

Tai
2009-01-15


Amna Ehsan
These are very profound expressions Michael, and i liked reading the internal rhythm of this craft. but who are the compellers of such cathartic thoughts??
very well written.
2009-01-15



Nice piece, good to see you writing again.
2009-01-15