"No entourage, no
eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one
dialysis machines.
No Contractor of Death.
No 'Sama.
No family members, no kith nor kin,
our business pals jetted
before the smoke cleared
no questions asked.
Bye bye, bin Ladens, bye bye.
Undisclosed principals wander among us,
as undisclosed principals do,
with undisclosed plans and video tapes.
Lots of video tapes, and no return address.
No investigation required.
Let's round up the usual suspects,
a thousand or so will do.
Just men of middle eastern ancestry, and
-to boot- a lawyer or two.
We'll feast on seconds
of proven oil reserves and
hunt elusive weapons we gave
the twisted patsy. Kept
til he caught on. Regifter!
Close enough for government work.
We called our exodus from Mecca
once the wells had been secured.
We'll pull out, we really will,
when oil flows to port.
Democracy, privatized, ten cents
on the dollar.
(Damn that Kuwaiti coastline looks good).
And still no 'Sama.
So let the other shoe drop
and darkness fall over
the royal tent. Your bloodbath
washes our hands and backs
our Futures. Modest masters
and pious killers, we thank providence.
Who needs Osama?"
My friend Joe Lynch, who wrote this in July, 2003, died last month. Joe was a friend and supporter who first suggested I begin to send email updates of the posts on this site. Joe was a soul brother in many other ways.
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