THESE WARS OF FREEDOM

by Rayanda

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in this work are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

THESE WARS OF FREEDOM. Copyright © 2009 by Rayanda Arts. Protected by a Creative Commons 2.5 license: You are free to share and distribute this work for noncommercial purposes provided you retain attribution and make no derivative works. This notice of copyright must be retained on any copies.

These weapons in our jeans seduce

us into wars

we passionately embrace with ferocious ardor.

With the maker's approval branded on our butts

and health care making all the right cuts

we never fail to create

every damn thing we swear to God we hate.

They're irresistible, dirty, burgeoning with sin,

mass-produced free copies of God's real things

simply divine, like hell,

they're too easy to sell

to all good girls and boys

lusting after each other's toys.

There aren't enough kicks for our daily fix

so shoot a load quick,

gimme more, I said, “More!”

babe, and get on with the war.

We're free to kill, and we're free to die,

death is the only way to get by

these wars of freedom.

It's the same old story,

one person's defeat is another one's glory.

The quarrels come and the morals go,

yet we never let our true feelings show.

Our reasons are fake,

but winning's at stake.

We're determined to die for the right lie

till there's no one left to lose.

We're free to choose

these wars of freedom.

We're too damned right

to do anything but fight.

Screw the love we miss,

oh baby, come, come let's kiss

the kids good-night

turn out the light

one hundred thousand missiles will do

no, better make that two,

proud to raise casualties in

battles we force them to win.

While they fight our demons for us—

what could be more glorious?

we strike out in the dark

not knowing what sparked

these wars of freedom.

Terror is the new frontier,

kill, kill, kill it with fear

that respects no boundaries

even of obscenely armed countries.

The only time we'll cry

is when the war dies.

We can't stand the thought of that any more

'cause we can't claim our victory

without the war.

Soldiers wearing the emperor's clothes

have nothing to lose, they know

with dead certainty as they clash

with protesters who see in a flash

there's no march forward or giving in

when truth only defeats us when we win.

Blast it all to kingdom come

anything to escape in fun.

Right? Right! Right

into the bomb-lit night

where there's nowhere to hide

especially not deep inside from

these wars of freedom.