Dead soldiers, lined up in a row,
Short history, how many more to go?
Dead sailors, some of them in an alley
Not sailing anywhere anymore are they?
Dead airmen, and also dead marines.
What if we’d been where they’ve been?
Men and women, fathers and mothers
We are burying our sisters and brothers.

Hut, two, three, four,
What the hell are we fighting for?
Five, six, seven, eight!
I’ll go to heaven if it’s not too late!

Dead soldiers, not just bottles of beer;
More come back home dead every year.
Used people, we let them get thrown away
By listening to what rich crooks had to say
Their empty promises were all about glory
But remember, most of that word spells gory.
Expendables, in the Big Game of profit.
The proceeds, none of them ever got it.

Hut, two, three, four,
What the hell are we fighting for?
Five, six, seven, eight!
I’ll go to heaven if it’s not too late!

Salute and makes parades, of course
And pin the cheap medals on a corpse,
A kid under orders to invade and ****
Hoping leaders wake, but they never will.
The politicians get rich in office when
They sing  patriotic war songs again.
Someday we all can stop all the killing
If love, providence and all gods are willing.

Hut, two, three, four,
What the hell are we fighting for?
Five, six, seven, eight!
I’ll go to heaven if it’s not too late!

I dig when you like my poems
And I’m really glad you know them
But you are being too critical
If you demand I not be political.
I’m not the most passive poet
You have ever heard or seen.
I am rather an outspoken
Liberal-minded poetry machine.

I’m not patient with ***-kissers
Or those who applaud crooks,
And flashy overspending creeps
Who got rich cooking the books.
I’m not impressed with how well
They behave at flashy photo-ops.
If they’re criminals, I really think
Someone should call the cops.

Nixon and Reagan, taught us
Being famous doesn’t get it.
If that’s all they have going on
Then, no thanks. Just forget it.
I don’t want to give them keys
To a worldwide nuclear disaster.
Kicking their ***** off the throne
Should be instantly if not faster.

So, if you came here to read
Of flowers, June, moon and spoon,
You’re bound to be disappointed
And it will happen very soon.
As I am in love with words
Not just the sound they make.
I try to move souls and hearts
And shake some people awake.

I am glad when each
Patriot says “impeach”!
It will be perfectly all right
If they also say “Indict!”
Then jail him that night.

Truth returns when he’s gone.
Just goodness from then on.
And then people of all colors
Will re-learn to work together
We can make that last forever.

There’ll be a celebration
Clear across this nation!
Then the Republican side
Will need to run and hide!

We’ll hold our heads up high
And bid him a loud goodbye.
We’ll jail him and his pets
And be sure to never let
Americans ever forget

We’ll take away his pension
And never even mention
His name without spitting.
He’s lucky we’re not hitting
Or kicking where he sits!

There’ll be a celebration
Clear across this nation!
Then the Republican side
Will need to run and hide!

Take his awful brats when he leaves
They did whatever they pleased;
Their morals are so small,
Those ugly acorns didn’t fall
Far from the tree at all,

He’ll sit on his golden throne
Except for ******, him alone
And tweet his ignorant tweets
While the lawyers beat feet
And sound a loud retreat.

There’ll be a celebration
Clear across this nation!
Then the Republican side
Will need to run and hide!

We heard there are poor people with money
And as Republicans, we don’t find that funny.
At first we thought it was a horrible joke
They’re supposed to be broke.
A kind of liberal poke.

We’re the elite, the complete package.
The blue ribbon, the absolute cream.
Don’t say we’re not or we’ll scream.
We know we’re right
Because we’re white.

So, dance the Republican Mambo
We’re the real Americans by Jingo!
Just like Billy Rose’s Jumbo
We dominate the dance floor
But that is what we live for.
We mow down opposition like Rambo.
Don’t question us again
Just send your money in
Get paper and pen quickly
And send money to the RNC!

Yes, we let a few of the other kind in
But only when we have to now and then.
They are exceptions of note
Designed to get the vote.
They’re each a Judas goat,
And they speak by rote.

Darwin said it well, even though he’s a fake
Survival of the fittest means we can take
Everything and everyone we may see
And knock them to their knees;
Grind them up mercilessly!
We get everything we see.

So, dance the Republican Mambo
We’re the real Americans by Jingo!
Just like Billy Rose’s Jumbo
We dominate the dance floor
But that is what we live for.
We mow down opposition like Rambo.
Don’t question us again
Just send your money in
Get paper and pen quickly
And send money to the RNC!

The lies of guys I was unwise
To let between my thighs
Because their eyes beguiled
Every time they smiled and I
Could not prematurely say goodbye.
Instead I took the guy to bed
Despite the murmurs in my head
And said stupid things in his ear
That I regretted that year and still
And yes, I probably always will.

Some guys tell lies with their eyes
In a kind of non-verbal disguise,
Of bigger and sadder untruths
That a green youth suspect exist
So that I didn’t resist temptation
To ignore deceit and exaggeration
For a moment’s hope for romance
And an afternoon’s hopeful chance
At something profound and legendary
That I forgot I needed to be wary.

Then the surprises in my eyes
As I realized I was unwise
But still thought I loved the guys,
Time and time again, trying,
Forgetting the crying and chagrin,
Then brave enough to try again
Taking time to learn to swim
In the river of romantic dreams
That starts in a tiny little stream
Going on until I sink or scream
Love is not something from a magazine.

Then one day I wake and say
No more! I finally know the score.
The whole game is a sick bore
And I know what it is all for.
It is for the wises route to wisdom.
To know I am finally through with them,
To know which ones are bad for me
And which to welcome gratefully;
To set the table and make dinner
And know for sure, he’s a winner.

I share the concept happily,
For those who ask me seriously,
That dating can be successful
Can even be fun and restful
If you ignore the glittery butterflies
That cavort and lie with their eyes
And want only that momentary thing
But are deathly afraid of the ring
And the promise that comes with you.
Don’t applaud those who gig you.
And choose from those who dig you.

We’re the rebels they call rabble
They want us all to be quiet
They bluster and they babble
Then they publicly deny it.

Representatives, an easy question:
Who do you represent, which faction?
You seem to have a lot of nerve
To insist that you protect and serve!
You want our money to campaign
Then leave us standing in the rain.
You grant yourselves a frequent raise
And pat your own backs with praise.

We could ask who you think you’ll fool
But, this is a nation of brain-dead tools.
At least half the country does not vote
Which leaves our case with a sour note.
But that leaves half who do believe!
It’s for the Constitution we grieve.
Your oath of office had you swear
To work for us, represent and care.

We’re the rebels they call rabble
They want us all to be quiet
They bluster and they babble
Then they publicly deny it.

So, it remains to us to care and feel;
To be the infamous squeaky wheel
And call to the public’s lazy attention
Crimes you commit and fail to mention.
We point it out when you lie and steal
That the promises you made aren’t real.
We remind our brothers, the working slob,
That all you do in office is keep your job.

Getting into office, your number one priority
For that you must ignore all the minorities
Only mentioning them in campaign speeches.
Then continue on being high-paid leeches.
Nobody in your party will call you out
Just collect your money from the touts
And when you retire just leave the rubble
And demand the populace call you “Honorable”.

We’re the rebels they call rabble
They want us all to be quiet
They bluster and they babble
Then they publicly deny it.

Let’s canoodle, let’s spoon.

Let’s cuddle, let’s squeeze.
It has been too long in between
So, let us do this now, please.

I want to lie down next to you
And feel your heart beat close.
To match the rhythm with mine
And then enjoy it as it slows
And matches with the cadence
Of the heart inside my chest.
Of all the moments in my life
This is the one I love best.

I admit that I’m distracted today
That’s the idea I’ve been noodling.
Having fun with you all alone;
Doing some serious canoodling.
It s a better idea than hiking
Or washing the car or cooking.
We just turn on some cool music
And both of us get to canoodling.

Doing simple math for us,
Like one and one make two.
Means I am one number
And of course, so are you.
We can add up some others
Like one well planed meal.
Later it may seem like a dream
But, I assure you, it will be real.

Let’s canoodle, let’s spoon.

Let’s cuddle, let’s squeeze.
It has been too long in between
So, let us do this now, please.