War Greed Apple pie

This is not a poem.

The war machine will take apple pie and smear it

into the blonde curls of a little girl sitting on a swing in the sunshine.

She will have a letter in her hand asking daddy to please come home.

We will sigh during halftime as the the flags wipe the tears of

patriots young and old.

The war machine has found our weakness.

Our soft spot.

Love for each other.

Compassion for the innocent.

The war machine has painstakingly mapped out

the most direct route to our core.

It has arranged things so that to question is to turncoat.

To question you spit in the faces of the young men and women in fatigues

eating baked goods sent to them for the holidays.

It's a fail proof system.

Pro or con...you shut your eyes and mouth.

The war machine will continue to use the images of the ones we love

to soften the blow of being entirely wrong.


Ray Strickland