they beckon:
olive drab,
guns alert:
train your son now
it seems so right
so patri
listen even in
irony
i refuse
to say it
i don't
believe in it
i never had
any toy soldiers
i knew the neighbors
who were
gun thugs
would soon
be buried
for sam
in korea or nam
they'll get your son
power ranger
at 6
air borne ranger at 21
be alert:
i saw
special forces toys
marching near the cereals
the first bite
is always
the hardestt
the punchline
to all this makes
me wanna holla
militarism
is guess where
redblooded special forces
man was made?
may mao, lenin and marx
roll over in their graves
you, know it, china
, no longer red, or even pink
but the bieging of china
Conquer me
with your factory
Enter me
with technoology
Focus me
With consumer needs
Blind me
With idolatry
Saddle me
With debt
No need for rangers
Come on sam
Let's not be strangers
we interrupt this poem
with a message
from your local peace movement
we are quicker
with our stickers
don't buy war toys
don't make war boys
let's make some noise
let's make soft boys
let's make peace boys
and the poem
fades like that
after 20 verses or so
you get
what i'm sayin, jim?
Kenyatta Yamel