Tuesday, January 14, 2020

day ONE THOUSAND and NINETY ONE


george w. bush does not live in perpetual war

tonight the missiles
are flying in the middle east again

another cartoon tough-guy president
is dick-wagging the only kind of freedom
that america has got

the freedom to destroy

i’m drinking beer
but daydreaming vodka

and the upstairs neighbor
has decided to buff her floors
on a hopeless tuesday night

making it impossible to think or read

but i think of you tonight
george w. bush

i think of you always when the missiles fly

retired
and in your texas mansion

eight years of horror
and hundreds of thousands of deaths on your hands

brushed off like dust on your shoulder

painting pictures of soldiers
that you helped get killed

fat from another barbeque
after another one of your paid speeches

a contented international terrorist
farting on his plush couch

watching reruns of rangers games
putting back a bowl full of pretzels

i think about how
you don’t live in perpetual war

george w. bush

how easy it must be to hide
under that legacy and your daddy’s money

writing shitty memoirs

coming out every so often
to play the loveable idiot

having michelle obama give you candy

tonight
there are kids, george w. bush

some adults now really

who’ve never lived
without war

without their moms and dads being shipped away

or living somewhere in a village
hoping not to get blown up
by one of our corporate, freedom bombs

or buried in the dirt
never getting to have once inch
of the privileged life you’ve lived

i think of you tonight
george w. bush

lost in the quiet
of your overgrown home

as i lay here stone-cold sober
on my own couch, hating you

as the neighbors buffing machine roars on ad nauseum

and the bombs fly for nothing
but some rich boy's ego

yet again.

--John Grochalski

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