Go, my children, fight the fight.
What right have we to live
without killing, what right
the unwilling to stand
in front of rolling tanks,
no thanks offered to gods of war
and banks? No donations
to defense contractors? We
need these arms, not farms
and food, not tractors
and schools. What’s the point
of education? Shoot first,
then interrogation, that’s the order,
that’s the way old John Wayne
taught us – brought us through
bad times on silver screens.
Movie queens await the victors.
Football games and Jordache jeans.
Go, my children, fight the fight.
What right have we to throw wrenches
in history books? Let them write
of death’s stenches, the glories
of amputations, and reparations
to those who need them least.
Go now, feed the beast
that swims on tears, what fears
are worth a hero’s worry?
And hurry, don’t miss the chance
to be heroes – standing tall
on a returning flight, or at night,
lying under flags, the way
so many heroes do their flying.
Yes kids, it’ll be a better world,
stars and stripes unfurled, everywhere.
One more war should do it.
Your kids could get us there.
- Ralph Murre
