The old men send young folks to war
again, friends.
They are sending the young to war.
Our President sits down with Assad
now, friends.
Iraqis are our enemies; Iran is our friend.
Kuwait princes holding slaves
are our best friends
now, friends
as the oil prices go up and go up
the Saudis get richer and fatter
now, friends
Gorbachev resists.
China drags its feet.
Hatcher falls.
At the U.N. we pay for support
with consent.
Our President spends Thanksgiving with troops
now, friends,
gives a pep talks to kids who play ball,
Congress has hearings
finally, friends.
Old Kissingers and Brzezinskis
joint chiefs and McGoverns
all say to wait
to let sanctions work
and January 15
looms closer
now, friends,
and Bush and his Baker demur.
Peace is a word elusive.
A Bird with troops in it
all heading to sand.
Our town’s National Guard 1486
went out
from here, friends,
yellow ribbons on trees around town.
Their children weep by Christmas light
friends,
as their parents are going to war.
May all of our gods
guide men with thin lips,
the men with no smiles,
men who need power,
who talk about face
now, friends,
old men who send
young ones to war.
Now, friends,
this Christmas
this very day,
the young ones
are going to war.
© Jane Piirto. All Rights Reserved.
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