A Perfect Patriot
Oxymoronic anathema,
that such a citizen exists...
hung up on country love
and hating communists.
Partial to red, she is,
suspicious of the blue,
white to her fascist core
no other hue will do.
His faith convenient
for putting others down.
His lord of pure intent
to let him wear a crown
while losers languish in the crush
of poverty beneath the sun,
beneath her pillow soft and lush
reposes as she sleeps, a gun
to dramatize his power, his might,
his pride to be a self-made man,
a worthy denizen who'd fight off
any alien skin, or ideology, or clan.
She would not mind the spirits kind
who penetrate her dreams with soft
suggestions that she find
a better means to hold aloft
his love of freedom, justice, sacrifice
upon the altar of the pentagon
festooned in stars and bars and nice
distinctions all arranged to con
each mother's sons and daughters
in their zeal to pour their blood
and that of every enemy
upon the killing fields.
~
Copyright © Robert Ludden | Year Posted 2012
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