At night I lie on a neat stack of mustard-wrapped bundles
I fold and re-fold a Jackson
foreseeing disaster
at each turn of a leaf
the White-house is splattered
with jam
Jefferson smiles benignly as Erdinger bitter
spots his forehead
the walls are covered with Lincoln and Grant
Shiloh burns and young men cower by an unknown riverbank
I plink one string ... again ... again ...
the single C vibrates alone at midnight
rowers sweep up C-notes with their dark blue blades
birds line their nests a bright green shade this year
Jackson - who remembers him now? - lines the aircraft hold
the new order of the ages comes to the banks of the Euphrates
He will favour our venture in the depths of the sands
a sussurant wind catches the green-backs and the sands sing sang-froid
foreskins stacked like trash at the foot of the believer
here, Mother, wipe your eyes with this sawbuck
it won't bring him back but he died for the cause
thirty bucks for your youngest
enough for a Dragunov
may Allah be with you
and death to the Infidel!
--
http://www.badstep.net/
"Patriotism is a virtue of the vicious."
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