Dear Mr. President

Alix Olson

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    Dear Mr. President:
    I don't wanna be in your military, I don't wanna bury
    my own kind
    I wanna make up my own mind about who I hate,
    not what the national slate
    has in mind.
    you see, the american interest is rarely in mine.
    and I've got my own wars to wage,
    I don't need to engage in your war for oil overseas,
    in-between my lover's legs
    is slick enough for me. I'm the lesbian minority, see,
    so I don't need a major to tell me what to be
    or who to do things to
    somewhere across the pacific.
    my sex is too specific to report to a general.
    and in general, dykes don't respond to command,
    so why do we demand
    to a part of this irrational masculine swarmy
    that poses as a national army--
    see, I've seen armies
    seen 'em on picket lines, welfare lines,
    seen 'em storming the Capitol,
    storming the streets,
    demanding justice and peace.
    I've heard of armies in history,
    in Birmingham, in Montgomerey.
    but these dressed-to-kill boys
    with their made-to-kill toys
    these yellow ribbons that choke trees, please,
    it's a joke,
    a sadistic display of militaristic play that ends in
    american dreams for the owners of both teams--
    and who suffers? who buffers the attack?
    who lacks the cash to decline the invitation
    to the nation's most expensive party?
    those hearty boys promised schooling,
    then sent on their way
    to collect their pay from the grave?
    well, I don't mind being war-depraved, honey,
    we can fight for more than big boys and their money:
    I'd rather fight phil knight, bomb all his bonds
    I'd rather wage a gay crusade on the pope,
    grope my girl in front of his nose.
    I'd rather pose a problem to disney,
    expose michael eisner as a meiser,
    mickey mouse as leader of the rat race--
    just slice right down that rodent's face.
    and it's a disgrace to be a rapist
    of developing nations
    when we can't stop the rape
    of developing girls.
    I'd rather unfurl an attack
    on our money guzzling undercover embezzling enemies-
    imprisoning just us with no dollar power
    impersonating justice from their donald trump tower
    with their billion dollars trillion crimes
    waging their personal war on the poor
    for more power in this world of
    ABC NBC CBS -- his country runs from
    CEO to shining CEO,
    Sending us across the ocean for the promotion
    of their cash-devotion ideology.
    well, I don't desire your superstar badge of bravery
    for enduring modern-day slavery
    in your maniacally economically-driven death trap.
    anyway, I'd give the U.S a bad rap,
    I'd kiss every fine iraqi dyke on the front line,
    fuck national pride,
    I'd go to their side--
    i prefer crossnational desire to crossfire anyway.
    and i don't need your fatigue uniform
    to perform my battles.
    I'm wearing layers of tired just from battling
    the liars of our system every day.
    and my Dear Mr. President:
    I'd rather die, lyin' in the heat of a fuck I call mine
    than in the fuckin' line of duty
    you've made mine.
    but, fine, it's the new big thing to demand inclusion
    in your land-intrusion ethic-free military,
    to request same-sex affirmative action
    to de-factionalize who dies in your
    money-for-the-man
    C-span cam scam, lost-and-found game
    you call war
    where we get to lose our lives
    when you've found what's worth more,
    well, when this dyke goes down,
    she'll go down
    knowing what it's for.

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    Composición: Alix Olson

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