whacking the mole

We have beat down the mole in Iraq
Until he came up finally in Afghan
Now all of the faithful as a flock
Next to find them we will need C. Chan.

We will now move to Afghan and whack
Until the winter strikes the mountains
At which time we and they will shack
Until the spring and the melted fountains.

Many times in the past such on-off fights
Have killed out Napoleon, Hitler, others
Until finally we declare victory flights
And leave with the families many smothers.

Thousands are dead and maimed
But history will record the shamed!

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Bonkers:
carbonunit52's picture
Submitted by carbonunit52 on Sun, 07/20/2008 - 2:27pm.

Your poetry brings tears to my eyes, because it is so awful.


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carbon
Submitted by Bonkers on Sun, 07/20/2008 - 3:42pm.

Thank you, thank you very much!
May I peruse your poetry?

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Bonkers, unfortunately....
carbonunit52's picture
Submitted by carbonunit52 on Sun, 07/20/2008 - 5:10pm.

I have not written any poetry. As a consolation, here is something that I wish I could have written:

The Fifty-Third Calypso from The Books of Bokonon:

Oh, a sleeping drunkard
Up in Central Park,
And a lion-hunter
In the jungle dark,
And a Chinese dentist,
And a British queen--
All fit together
In the same machine.
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice--
So many different people
In the same device.


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Carbon :The Cat's Cradle
Submitted by Bonkers on Mon, 07/21/2008 - 6:35am.

I prefer the fourteenth Calypso.

I knowed i cude writ poems good as Vonnegutt.

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carbon
Submitted by Bonkers on Sun, 07/20/2008 - 5:35pm.

I git hit!

all tugether hyar on earth---how quainte?

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