May I please have a prorogue?
I can’t stand that Liberal rogue
Who won’t let go of those questions
Always demanding more concessions
Will you please, please, Michelle
Another prorogue in the same year?
Might make a habit, I would fear
I have to say Mr Harper
This is getting so much harder
But I’ll do it, for you, dear
But a third prorogue, I won’t hear
Thank you so much, dear Michelle
Being a Pee Emm is like hell
I can’t rule, and neither sell
My war agenda, or the sequel
These Canadians don’t understand
That those Afghans make a rough band
Who need torture, inside a cell
At which Baghram does excel
All I want is a quiet spell
With my Peter, Jason as well
Who can say? And who can tell?
Maybe Canadians will forget?
If I were you, I would not bet!
Mr Harper, I sympathize
And I know how you despise
Those who do not think you wise
But as Gee Gee, I must advise
Hiding away may bring your demise!
Is he not the blue-eyed boy
Of the one with deep blue eyes?
Would he not use any ploy
To remain in his employ
While he rules over this land
With his tiny hand picked band
Even if he’s one cowboy
Who might ruin or destroy
Any diplomat or envoy
Who might dare to tell the truth
Or detect like a sleuth
He would crush him and enjoy
Being again that bully-boy!
Shock Doctrine – The Poem
I ask myself: where are my tears
When I see all that blood and gore
Even the toys are dripping red
Missing a limb, without a head
The bombed out homes, and scattered toys
Starving hordes of girls and boys
Terrified stares tell us their fears
While bullets whiz past tiny ears
Their tender flesh singed with phosphor
Their mothers shot, all over the floor
Did you not see the baby’s brain?
Hanging out of a shattered head
He cannot feel any more pain
For he is now very very dead
Children roaming like a lost tribe
Sucking water from a broken pipe
Cannot find food, for there is none
And what there was is already gone
Their fear is real, the anguish deep
Who will feed them? And who will keep
Their frail thin limbs warm in the night?
Does any one care about their plight?
And that brave girl who spoke one day
Into the mike, we heard her say
Why have I been of parents deprived?
Buy bullets of those who suddenly arrived
In armour and tanks, bristling with steel
To pillage and kill, destroy and steal
Do they not know how lonely I feel?
Will anyone stop to hear my appeal?
Is this indeed that “Shock Doctrine”
The one described by Naomi Klein
Meted this time to Palestine
And six years ago to helpless Iraq
Will Iran be next, President Barak?