Occupation Haiku

The occupation
of Iraq drags on and on,
dripping blood and sweat.

Mainstream media
embedded themselves inside
the invading force.

Soldiers keep dying,
three more just the other day,
so far from their homes.

Funerals arranged,
taps played, shots fired into sky,
tears stream down her face.

She’s offered a flag
folded in a triangle.
Taken, she weeps on.

Meanwhile, at the front,
another insurrection
destabilizes.

The summer was hot.
Rainstorms would be welcomed now,
or just a quick swim.

Yearning to go home,
soldiers face daily attacks,
sacrificing all.

No end is in sight
for those stuck in the sand trap.
They mail letters home.

Echoes from wars past
chant "Be all that you can be:
An army of one"

Ghosts from Vietnam
haunt patrols in broad daylight.
History be damned.

Victory assured,
not about to pull out now.
Chaos would ensue.

Bounty hunters search
for the elusive Saddam,
price high on his head.

Bush said "Bring them on."
Seems the "enemy" heard him.
Attacks continue.

W.M.D.:
Weapons of Mass Destruction
not found; M.I.A.

Overconfident,
patriotic flag wavers
believed the big lie.

No shame to be found
in the bloody aftermath,
now fighting for peace.

Terror continues
to rain down in many forms,
causes not addressed.

Quagmire? No, they say.
Fears dismissed as they stumble
and car bombs explode.

Holy mosques attacked,
religious leaders are slain.
Who would have thought it?

Infrastructure gone,
electricity comes, goes,
reconstruction slow.

Contracts awarded,
somebody profits from war,
no bids required.

Some die slowly from
depleted uranium,
health effects unknown.

Antiwar protests
ignored or called treasonous,
peace too much to ask.

The regime has changed.
Democracy's possible,
not there for the oil.

United Nations
dismissed as irrelevant,
now asked to help pay.

Seen as a symptom,
war shows a much deeper wound,
refusing to heal.

The battle's not lost.
The war on terror goes on.
...Osama Bin who?


October 2, 2003
contact:  fantomdj2@hotmail.com