when in the course of human events
by D A Phinney
have we ever relied on common sense?
four score and seven pass away
only to see our glory fray;
a war to end all wars will wend
its way to wars that never end:
threads through a day of infamy
to pandora's bursting blinding key;
progress' mandate reverses to:
ask not your country do for you,
but make the jungle-sacrifice
and sweat the heated sword's cold slice;
and as red foes evaporate
bloodshot blue eye seeks who to hate,
a slippery one to fit the plan
will serve for perfect bogeyman,
till edifices lost in tears
are kickoff in a game of fears
that sites in on philosophy
to feed the maw of industry;
'you're with us or you're with the fiends
whose end would justify our means'
so war whole-based on fantasy
may stretch out to infinity.
we hold these truths' self-evidence
that we are and shall be ever-dense.