[America, thy unbecoming arrogance]”

America, thy unbecoming arrogance
So stately blinds,
Is like star-spangled underpants
On rude behinds.

Thou makest war of ‘treason’,
With blunt interludes between
Combat and that ‘reason’—
Grand—which you pride but try to wean
Intellection opportunely from:
In favor of that ringing drum
Of errant warlord’s ‘sympathy’;
So neatly dumb are we.

War is all a naughty chore,
Composite of citizens’ fear,
Who cling each dragging day the more
To freedoms dead but dear.