Friday, September 28, 2007
"Ain't No Party, Ain't No Disco" (But The Propaganda Ministry Disagrees)
Before I turn of the TV
The blonde flight captain says,
"You're life needs accelerating."
She looks like an actress,
she wants me to think
I'll meet her in the Navy;
Her smile says bogies at 9:30.
And it's too early for me to be
all that I can be, or one of the few
who think like all of the rest--
in a war with no beginning or end
a checkered board filled with pawns
and a couple useless princes on a
cold, black and white playground.
Sorry there, sweety--
not even if Godsmack
writes the soundtrack.
Not even if I am an army of one,
a captured, debriefed heart and mind
in someone else's chicken-wire cage.
I can see it now:
Johnny returning home as one
in an imitation pinewood box--
in nine pieces, or one lucky whole;
intangibles lost on the other side
of this temporal oil-slick planet.
It's 9:41--bogies turned bandits,
and I've lived through the last
twenty four hours dodging bullets
fired in my own divided house--
elephants and jack-asses,
no mission accomplished,
still kicking in these jack boots
in the concrete jungles of home.
I'm still Alive.
And so are many--except the few
and the proud, bless them for
All of those whose precious lives
were valiantly given before 9:48
and all who will yet spill their's
on an Arabic-Aztec alter of
our national dark god's choosing.
It's 9:55--fuck itdo you know where
your army of one
has been sent to now?
It's 9:59 --fuck it
accelerate your life;
because the reaper is
one quick little bastard.
Addendum, thanks to beerspitnight and Henry Rollins:
Letter from Ramadi