Time to conspire, under the Yule fire
by Robert S. Becker (2003)
More con-man than Decider,
Dubya hustles for more time.
What's thick'ning is the crime.
If three years isn't enough
To flee our self-made ruts,
Concede this war is lost --
Is he blind or really nuts?
Bad war, then troubled peace,
With all that oil to plunder,
Occupations doomed to fail,
Though armed with Zeus' thunder.
The deluded stay the course,
As if timing never matters;
Behold our Christmas gift --
The neo-con war in tatters.
Try another Robert S. Becker poem - To a Coy President
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