GOOD SOLDIER

(A Poetic Justice Photomontage)The Ambitious Delusions of George Bush and David Petraeus

We now learn that General David Petraeus fancies himself a Dwight Eisenhower for the 21st century.

According to a report in London's Independent newspaper by the reliable Middle East observer Patrick Cockburn, the U.S. military viceroy in Iraq would like very much to return from his mission and -- like the Supreme Commander of Allied forces in Europe during World War II and of North Atlantic Treaty Organization in its aftermath -- mount a bid for the White House.

Petraeus has apparently been so open in expressing his "long-term interest in running for the US presidency" that Sabah Khadim, a former senior adviser at Iraq's Interior Ministry who worked closely with the general in Baghdad, recalls, "I asked him if he was planning to run in 2008 and he said, 'No, that would be too soon'."

The mouth of the good soldier,
The stern jaw of the general,
The small particles of human dust
That move between them;
Better things than war
To the rotten film of floating flesh.

The bastard truth, in its last throes,
Had no teeth to gnaw at death
To release its harrowed grip,
And deceit had honed its razors
Slicing truth to its mortal nub,
Veracity fell out the bloody center
Uncorking the gushing liquid
now thickly oozing out of man.

This that moves us and machine
Is what drives the engine of betrayal.
It is not man.
It is not beast.
It is not breath.
At birth we suckle its oily nipple
Until we desire it more than food-
This; our liquid birth of machinery.

It is with that in mind and nothing else
That the stern jawed general let loose his guns.
With precision, from years of training,
He nailed his target, truth, between the eyes
And it fell back calling out a futile "help,"
But rescue would not be forthcoming,
It too had been felled.

Death stands now before them both
And places his fluttering lips close,
“Come. Join me now. You shall see
the horror within the mortal’s eyes
when, in the dark, you greet them.”

© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman

Betrayus ad infuriates some

Petraeus... or just a good soldier?

THE VIRGIN AND THE SEASONED

Bush just playing us with 'troop withdrawal'

Olbermann: "President Bush told troops in Iraq some of them may be able to come home. To a country dying of thirst, the president seemed to vaguely promise a drink from a full canteen -- a promise predicated on the assumption that he is not lying. Yet you are lying, Mr. Bush. Again. But now, we know why. "

"...Everything you said about Iraq yesterday, and everything you will say, is a deception, for the purpose of this one cynical, unacceptable, brutal goal: perpetuating this war indefinitely."
(full transcript)

THE VIRGIN AND THE SEASONED

Right after the sky had seemingly dumped all its gloom upon this world
And sunny days lay ahead of us… some of us… maybe some lucky son of the rich;
Just when the world could use some talk of peace and healing of wounds
And unruffled reflection allowed to descend… or shine… or sidle between dry lips;
O! That this world could make use of silence or a hushed and soothing reverie
From the heavy chains knotted `round our breath! The tongues are corroded over
With idols and liars and hordes of impish drones and toadies and criminals;
A fine mess we’ve made of it! A fine mess we’re into now; a world in disarray!
And someone’s going to stop breathing tonight! A father’s going to cry, kill or pray
As someone else will sleep far away from his grief. Sleep roundly without sorrow.
The moving sand and running streets and flying steel pilfering the radiance
Will send a messenger, a virgin warrior, with tidings of community and expectation,
Only to return with news of a lifeless planet with lifeless inhabitants; dull and jaded.
Another more seasoned warrior will then be sent with reports and bags of gold,
Only to return with news of an insensible planet with insensible and terrified patrons.
Then it will be time to send the General, a gallant, fearless stag of impeccable servitude
Armed only with the kings dangling gaze hard upon his back. The news is good!
The planet breathes! The previous, now lifeless dispatches were two-faced traitors…

Right after the sky had seemingly dumped all its gloom upon this world
And sunny days lay ahead of us… some of us… maybe some lucky son of the rich;
Just when the world could use some talk of peace and healing of wounds
And unruffled reflection allowed to descend… or shine… or sidle between dry lips;
A command was given to cease all opposition and to run crying for shelter!
Come warble your dissent! Whimper in anger! Snivel in disbelief and comfortless drivel
Until the soil trembles with your quaking of our liberty that is the world’s torment
For the virgin and the seasoned have been silenced and all that remains is monstrous!
O! If the rivers could but sing of this time they’d flood the world in sorrowful verse.

© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman