It Must Be Fate
R.P. Ericksen
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
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