It must be fate,
        thought many loyal Americans,
        grimly acknowledging
        a world of danger and hurt,
        a world threatening their future
        as far as the eye could see.

        No, it is Feith,
        recognized others,
        plus Wolfowitz and Perle --
        the Wolf in sheep's clothing,
        and the Pearl of great price --
        and the unsavory combination
        of Rum and Rice,

        an idiot's tale
        in which Fate is merely
        an unknown, an underling,
        who has sought war for a decade,
        with a Wolf by his side
        and a Pearl mistaken for wisdom itself.
        Rum further clouded their minds
        while adding a barroom arrogance,
        and Rice cooked up the main course,
        with a subtlety, taste and nuance
        sadly suitable to her surroundings.

        These characters converged
        at the end of a dirt road,
        climbed what they took
        for a tall tree
        and planned our future
        from that great height,

        but it was all
        a Brobdingnagian swindle,
        for they viewed the world
        from a Lilliputian Bush,
        and now they've
        ensnared us all.

                -- R.P. Ericksen (November 10, 2003)

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Last updated: February 11, 2004