The Sport of Kings

Condoleezza Rice and George Bush
Condoleezza Rice and George Bush

Coup d'etat, A Dirge

While not overly bright yet
When upfront with death
And never thinking his actions would tell character
He did join the National Guard and
Years later within the pigeon-proud strut
Resided residual capacity to read a teleprompter
Though it threatened daily
To make Harry Truman look like a Philosopher King

Withal this was a man whose inferiority was no complex
He knew his betters
Men who understood power and had banked him like plasm
To front a government, the orderly sort
A New World Order as it were, stepchild to another
Ever briefly interrupted by the instinctive revulsion
Of the otherwise somnolent public
Towards pure paid control over mankind--

Moreover they remembered presidents with more syllables in their names
Eisenhower, Kennedy, FDR...
But the multi-syllabic had been weak; they stopped breathing
While these men, who understood power
Invented the manufacture of synthetic presidency
Akin to the Hollywood creation of El Cid
Whose protagonist though days dead
Still sat erect on a mighty charging stallion
Owing to an armature of wood on the horse's rump

Who were these men who understood power
They with minds so authentically criminal
They had long since filtered off human recoil before Sin
Proven by the now half-forgotten removal of a mortal presidency
Half-forgotten because it serves no present needs of court?
Then in that time while big-oil Hunt financed the hit
And the Mafia the bloody mop-up blankets
And LeMay ordered his bombers aloft with instructions
To destroy the H-Bomb flight books at the airport
And the hit itself fell to the Cuban nameless--
George Herbert Walker Bush was but a small-timer
Stringing for the CIA in Miami reporting to Hoover
With industrious loyalty that his Cuban operatives
Would grieve loudly and lie low even though Kennedy betrayed them
Until coup d'etat suspicions choked and the trouble blew over

And it is among the wonders of equal advancement
That Senator Prescott Bush's son became CIA director under Ford
Despite the elder's support of Nazi munitions until 1943
And that George Bush's son Jeb became Miami CIA station chief
To be close to the oil and drugs and weapons ships since
The men who understood power were deeply learned of elections
In the nether towns and hamlets of Guatamala, Salvador, Honduras
Panama, Nicaragua, Peru, Chile--namely, that elections be correct
Sometimes requiring the destruction of whole villages
To insure the proper succession of democratic processes

Some names known some hidden ringing like a pock-marked chime
The many hidden assured immortality and glory for the team
The Cause, the Company, the industry, the force, the Task, the Mission:
Nazi-symp grandfathers Walker and Bush flipped by Allen Dulles to spy
North who took the rap and the pay-off money and fame
Allen who helped Bush pay the Iranians to keep the hostages
Instead of Logan Act treason call it October Surprise
And Abrams who vowed that ethnic cleansing in the service
Of domination is no vice
And Poindexter the commodious felon for hire
And Casey who engineered the Central America war with Negroponte
Later to wax majestic in the halls of Peace, each and all
Confident of Reagan to sit Charlie McCarthyish at the helm of State
While abandoned Nisei camps were prepared anew
Should the youth stamp and refuse to fight
And Baker managing the synthetic presidency
Because it was duty for serving Patriots

And then there was Bush with the necessary contacts, his special gift
Because oil men know how to keep power over resources
And the wretched who happen to live there
Given that the world is alway faced with one terrible danger
That the rich do not have enough money
Hence the necessity of force-feeding vegetation more carbon dioxide
Whose corollary was Reagan's holding that the continental forests
Are poisons in the lungs of the world
And in no time they thoughtfully drummed up a war or two
But not for six months because even ants and termites must prepare
And the cause was absolute control of oil threatened just then
By their best friend who rebirthed as Satan in every living room one week
And American flag stickers and ribbons were shipped from nowhere
In millions to halls and lunch clubs of the land
Because in the words of Goering the people can always be brought
To the bidding of the leaders: simply exaggerate the danger
And denounce pacifists as traitors
It works the same in all countries

But there was that eerie moment at the Joint Session of Congress
When as though dressed by the soft hands of Evil
Bush and his ilk wore black suits like the Fatherland Brave
It must have frightened us to see the sharp stark spear of Force
Protecting us to enjoy fifty kinds of ice cream and six-packs by the billion
It all speeded the arrival of an Elvis Presley look-alike
Who twisted-lipped all would be well, not immediately aware
The future Solicitor General Olsen was camping at his window
With green binoculars and millions to burn

So it came to pass that the Republic mystically beamed
Into the eyeballs of our same Jeb Bush intoning
One of these horses has a longer nose--Gore
A notion known well before election day
Time enough for Patriots to defranchise minorities by the ten-thousands
To block polling stations wherever people were poor
Threatening arrest and prison to anyone with names like Brown or Jose
And to conceal exactly opposite vote-totals until too late
And lo the meshugah irony so soon after Auschwitz--
And Hitler raced through Heaven with the news--
When anti-Semite Buchanan struck gold in the voting machines
Of his tinted and goldberg brethren, a county full of irreversible votes
Dropped in a sophist gutter

A million and a quarter never-recounted ballots
90,000 contrived criminals undeserving of the stylus
But in the burgeoning confusion uncertainty lay swept aside
By Bush Triumphant presenting the awful truth
That the false figures were right because repeatedly false
And as certainty is the imprimatur of the mediocre heart
And chaos the condition wherein the truth does not matter
Even the Supreme Court had its inside connection
The Opus Dei Jesuit whose sons worked for the favored law firm
All joined to halt democracy for the danger it posed

In accordance with the logic of scale, treason needs a huge decoy towit
Wrong was done the wronger, who thence must be right in his wrong
That equal protection of the law protect the unequal
And a dose of overthrow intimidation sufficed to freeze decorous foes
Hate the parent of force flushed right into the antiseptic halls:
"The ruling of the Florida Supreme Court must not stand."

Should any doubt coup d'etat rest easy at the sight of James Baker redux
With the same green-as-money tie he wore while saddling El Cid
Now speaking out of loosened jowls for the younger Bush in Miami
Since it was generally known to keep Bush in the back
Until time to trot him out as Caesar
Bush, who had missed his sad initiation as a man
By sneak-culling his slot in the Champagne Unit
Bush who drove the streets of Houston drunkenly in search
Of the very best cocaine which was itself
The last best hope of Colombian or Bolivian peasants
Not to die that winter--Bush who tried to make up for fighting balls
By snuffing l50 stunted souls, fifteen minutes each
Reviewed at his air-conditioned desk, so reminiscent
Of Franco eating chocolates as he exterminated the Republic

Yes it is an irony of history and ambition
That the same hands genetically speaking
That buttressed the fortunes of Nazi bombs
Advanced the prospects of the United Fruit Company
That in time provided weapons and jeeps to the murder squads
Should importunately offer prayers in the name of America
That peace through Order prevail henceforth and
That low-waged production of wealth never perish--
Ironic that those hands glisten white not merely
From the soaps and perfumes at the counter in Nieman Marcus
But white because anointed with the imperatives of Class and thus
Must never be held responsible for what they shall continue to do,
As necessarily arranged, unto Heaven and unto Earth

WJ Ray
June 200l

Rodin, The Head of Sorrow
Rodin, The Head of Sorrow

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