Some Will Die

Join me in a Constitutional.

Shall we sally forth to war?

Shall we call it an “excursion?”

That’s what pretty words are for.

Oil is raining from the heavens.

Bombs are dropping from the skies.

Unsuspecting, their nine million.

Some of theirs (and ours) will die.

Welcome to my gilded chamber.

Welcome to these hallowed halls.

Trappings meant to earn respect,

Though some suspect I’ve botched it all.

Here I stand.  My hands are folded,

Head is down, a solemn pose.

On my head, a USA cap,

As they go to their repose.

Calls to Fox to change the footage.

What?  My etiquette was wrong?

Funerals require no headgear?

Maga hats do not belong?

Jeez, I do not understand you.

Always sticklers for the rules!

Being there, I made it special.

Those who serve are dupes and fools.

Calling it a sacrifice!

The “ultimate” as if this cap

Were not disguising my own pain.

Such pain.  They woke me from my nap!

See my former allies joining

Me, as targets in this war.

My own bestie shares locations.

That is what best friends are for.

As reward, I loosen sanctions.

Let his petrol flow with ease.

Let him buy more ammunitions. 

Let him take what land he please.

Meanwhile I shall burn my millions,

Dollar weakening every day,

Causing stocks to drop and stagger.

Making bets, along the way.

As their blockade threatens boats,

I call on captains to be brave.

I summon forth Captains Courageous:

I’m insuring every knave.

Why such concern for life and limb

When costs are covered, low or high?

I do not get their calculation.

As I said, some men will die.

War is hell and I should know.

I would have gone, but for my spur.

If I command them, they will go.

Imperfect vessel of the Lord,

I’m calling forth the Armageddon

In the month of Ramadan.

All those Muslims, fasting, fasting,

Won’t know why they’re hit upon.

Like George Washington, attacking

Hessians, British, Christmas Day,

Crossing Delaware to bloody,

Unaware, his chosen prey,

So, we launch a Holy War,

We blithe Crusaders bear the Cross

And win the peace for Israel,

Till Rapture comes and all is lost.

For an essay on the passage of Eighty Years since the last World War, read Eighty Years. For the rite of passage of a rather ancient person taking on the mantle of kingship, read For a New Old King.