Amen.
-----------------------------
Business As Usual
The day was as sunny as the night had been dark.
Few faces were happy, even those in the park.
Terrorists will get us, headlines everywhere screamed.
Fear gripped America as Satan laughed and beamed.
They truly hate their neighbors, he laughed in noxious glee
at liberals, conservatives, you my friend, and me.
Constitution, shmonstitution. Terror would be stopped.
When rights blocked investigation, off they were soon chopped.
Courts abruptly legalized marriages for gays
and proved they no longer care what we think these days.
Homeland Security broke one law, then another.
Our spying is illegal, but we're not Big Brother.
Our President quoted God, seeking His votes to court
but gave to UNESCO and their ark of hope support.
Our sons died in Iraq daily, bleeding in the sand.
Mr. Rumsfeld grinned, We can't leave. You don't understand:
It's not about oil. No sir, it's freedom they protect!
DARPA sought to take bets on the death tolls they'd project.
T-I-A, it would seem, wasn't nightmare enough.
Chipping humanity was their next new cool stuff.
China worked to provide our smart bomb technology,
which, if sewn against us, would reap bitter irony.
The I-G-L-H-R-C shrieked, Cut back religion!
You can't quote the Bible without our supervision!
The U.N. agreed with them in tones loud and sour
while working to globalize us and then devour.
Into this all walked a hook-nosed man with a beard.
His skin was as dark as his dialect was weird.
The clothes above his feet were dusty, wrinkled, and creased.
It was obvious, too: They were from the Middle East.
His expression was calm, like the look within his eyes.
Someone dialing a phone suspected Al Quaeda ties.
The junkies, gang members, prostitutes, and vagrants
all gathered around, making curious comments.
Even card-trick cons forgot tourists they would fleece.
Soon his arm was tightly seized. It was the police.
Take it easy, Habib, the young officer said,
Make one funny move, my friend, and you'll end up dead.
Where are you from, pal? C'mon - let's see some ID...
Wait, I don't speak gibberish. You're coming with me.
The lights of his office made the foreigner squint
as the police chief said to the feds he'd be sent.
People in elevators, birthday party scenes,
couples' honeymoons moved on CIA wall screens.
At a desk facing away, a man scrunched his face.
He had found no match in the global database.
The foreigner sat quietly with his hands cuffed.
He hadn't fought even as their treatment turned rough.
I don't get it, another agent said, nearby,
His language is dead or we can't identify.
Their supervisor said, Freeing him will make a mess.
If he blows anything up, we're all snacks for the press.
Like many before denied both phone calls and trials,
he was put on a cargo plane and flown for miles.
The Cuban sun would set soon as the plane touched down.
Palm trees and barbwire ringed the small prison town.
Welcome, camel jockey, to Guantanamo Bay,
smirked the guard who seized, then escorted him away.
I'm sorry that our accommodations lack style,
but don't worry about it: Tomorrow's your trial.
Bright and early as promised, the tribunal met
(the judge sought to tee off while the dew was still wet).
The trial moved very swiftly, its speed redoubled.
Such things move fastest when we're not told or troubled.
With no chance of appeal, far from the public eye,
this man was tried, convicted, and sentenced to die.
When the hour had come, he did not make a scene.
He marched quietly, once led, to the guillotine.
The executioner's gum smacked. He raised the blade.
Hurry, the guard urged, I have a date to get laid.
The blade fell like just always, as swiftly as planned...
but all eyes soon widened when nothing hit the sand.
No head tumbled forward and no blood soaked the ground.
Utterly bewildered, everyone looked around.
The restraints were tightly fastened to hold him there,
but where the condemned had knelt, now was empty air.
A voice felt in their hearts that also spoke aloud
said, It's all foolproof. I suppose you must be proud.
I came to see my children's use of salvation,
one last look before the judging of each nation.
You will be paid in wages fit for your master.
To the prince of Earth you've turned, faster and faster.
You've forgot, like Peter, to choose love, not the sword.
In fear and hatred, you'd have put to death your Lord.
--Anonymous
-----------------------------
Business As Usual
The day was as sunny as the night had been dark.
Few faces were happy, even those in the park.
Terrorists will get us, headlines everywhere screamed.
Fear gripped America as Satan laughed and beamed.
They truly hate their neighbors, he laughed in noxious glee
at liberals, conservatives, you my friend, and me.
Constitution, shmonstitution. Terror would be stopped.
When rights blocked investigation, off they were soon chopped.
Courts abruptly legalized marriages for gays
and proved they no longer care what we think these days.
Homeland Security broke one law, then another.
Our spying is illegal, but we're not Big Brother.
Our President quoted God, seeking His votes to court
but gave to UNESCO and their ark of hope support.
Our sons died in Iraq daily, bleeding in the sand.
Mr. Rumsfeld grinned, We can't leave. You don't understand:
It's not about oil. No sir, it's freedom they protect!
DARPA sought to take bets on the death tolls they'd project.
T-I-A, it would seem, wasn't nightmare enough.
Chipping humanity was their next new cool stuff.
China worked to provide our smart bomb technology,
which, if sewn against us, would reap bitter irony.
The I-G-L-H-R-C shrieked, Cut back religion!
You can't quote the Bible without our supervision!
The U.N. agreed with them in tones loud and sour
while working to globalize us and then devour.
Into this all walked a hook-nosed man with a beard.
His skin was as dark as his dialect was weird.
The clothes above his feet were dusty, wrinkled, and creased.
It was obvious, too: They were from the Middle East.
His expression was calm, like the look within his eyes.
Someone dialing a phone suspected Al Quaeda ties.
The junkies, gang members, prostitutes, and vagrants
all gathered around, making curious comments.
Even card-trick cons forgot tourists they would fleece.
Soon his arm was tightly seized. It was the police.
Take it easy, Habib, the young officer said,
Make one funny move, my friend, and you'll end up dead.
Where are you from, pal? C'mon - let's see some ID...
Wait, I don't speak gibberish. You're coming with me.
The lights of his office made the foreigner squint
as the police chief said to the feds he'd be sent.
People in elevators, birthday party scenes,
couples' honeymoons moved on CIA wall screens.
At a desk facing away, a man scrunched his face.
He had found no match in the global database.
The foreigner sat quietly with his hands cuffed.
He hadn't fought even as their treatment turned rough.
I don't get it, another agent said, nearby,
His language is dead or we can't identify.
Their supervisor said, Freeing him will make a mess.
If he blows anything up, we're all snacks for the press.
Like many before denied both phone calls and trials,
he was put on a cargo plane and flown for miles.
The Cuban sun would set soon as the plane touched down.
Palm trees and barbwire ringed the small prison town.
Welcome, camel jockey, to Guantanamo Bay,
smirked the guard who seized, then escorted him away.
I'm sorry that our accommodations lack style,
but don't worry about it: Tomorrow's your trial.
Bright and early as promised, the tribunal met
(the judge sought to tee off while the dew was still wet).
The trial moved very swiftly, its speed redoubled.
Such things move fastest when we're not told or troubled.
With no chance of appeal, far from the public eye,
this man was tried, convicted, and sentenced to die.
When the hour had come, he did not make a scene.
He marched quietly, once led, to the guillotine.
The executioner's gum smacked. He raised the blade.
Hurry, the guard urged, I have a date to get laid.
The blade fell like just always, as swiftly as planned...
but all eyes soon widened when nothing hit the sand.
No head tumbled forward and no blood soaked the ground.
Utterly bewildered, everyone looked around.
The restraints were tightly fastened to hold him there,
but where the condemned had knelt, now was empty air.
A voice felt in their hearts that also spoke aloud
said, It's all foolproof. I suppose you must be proud.
I came to see my children's use of salvation,
one last look before the judging of each nation.
You will be paid in wages fit for your master.
To the prince of Earth you've turned, faster and faster.
You've forgot, like Peter, to choose love, not the sword.
In fear and hatred, you'd have put to death your Lord.
--Anonymous
