FOUR.

"Uncle John"

By Tom Rapp

The wind winds the platform

Blows through your suit creases

You want us To crucify the enemy for Jesus

With your chamber-of-commerce soul

You talk of war so bold

God is on our side, but He's lost in your wallet-fold

And the widows a-sighing

The children a-crying

The screams of the dying

Say you are lying, Uncle John

You pull out your Sunday God

And hold him up so proud

And say he is with us To the Applauding crowd

But the burn-blackened place

The shredded disfigured face

Don't say that God is Love

They say that you are Hate

And the widows a-sighing

The children a-crying

The screams of the dying

Say you are lying, Uncle John

You stand up on the platform

With the flag wrapped all around you

And tell us that the Bible says

To fight for it we're bound to

But the Red's for the blood we lose

The White's for the gauze they use

To cover burned-out blackened men

The rest is for the bodies numb and Blue

And the widows a-sighing

The children a-crying

The screams of the dying

Say you are lying Uncle John.

I love this place where I live.

So, lets put on some porn, eat some meat, douse ourselves in gasoline and celebrate.

I just cry.

M.Z.