Chapter 1- The Rage of George
Chapter 2- Rattling of Sabres
Chapter 3- Entreaties Rejected
Chapter 4- Osama Speaks
Chapter 5- The Underworld
Chapter 6- Fatherly Advice
Chapter 7- The Gods of War
Chapter 8- Juggernaut
Chapter 9- The Prisoners
Chapter 10- Interrogation
Chapter 11- George Dreams
Chapter 12- In the Clouds
Chapter 13- Déjeuner
Chapter 14- Secret Agent
Chapter 15- The Tyrant Flees
Chapter 16- Out of Order
Chapter 17- George Descends
Chapter 18- Master Kim
Chapter 19- Uncurious George
Chapter 20- Asana
Chapter 21- Doing the Patriot Act
Chapter 22- Immaculate Reception
Chapter 23- The Little Prince
Chapter 24- Mission Accomplished
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As February’s feverish talk of war spreads,
Nations send delegates to the great council,
Where each has his say about the looming storm
And proposes a response. The assembled
Choose sides: one calls for peace,
The other war.
They fill the vast chamber of the United Nations,
On the banks of the East River in the Big Apple,
Where the legs of the twin towers stood,
Colossus standing watch over the harbor,
Now fallen, turned to rubble, only memories
Of silhouettes and gaping holes remain.
Each delegate gives his speech,
Arguments on one side or the other.
Promised U.S. foreign aid or
Loan guarantees on purchases of
Hardware and weapons of destruction
Secure some allegiance to the holy war.
Villepin from France draws firm applause.
He draws upon the loyalty of others who enjoy
The economic benefits of working with both sides.
Colonialism having given way to neo-liberal capital,
The French pursue a policy of “no size fits all”
And apply post-modernist financial theory.
“Iraq is not a foie-gras goose,” says he,
"To be slaughtered for its fatted liver.”
“This Iraqi pot-au-feu is not yet done,
Politics gets richer while it thickens.” They
Lick their lips, salivating at the savory philosophy
And think about reservations for lunch at 21.
“The inspectors, led by Blix, need time,” he says.
“Besides, it’s almost truffle season and war
Is inconvenient; please be patient.” The
Delegates stir in their seats, after all
No one wants to wait in line for lunch. A
Recess is called for the balance of the day.
Proud Powell, sitting at his table,
Bites his tongue and tastes metallic blood,
Sips some water from his glass and swallows.
“Now’s not the time to blow my top,” he sighs.
“That French Fop and his continental buddies
Have ruined my appetite; I hate old Europe.”
Proud Powell, heroic bronze warrior
The Bushiad and The Idyossey - Copyright 2004 by Victor Littlebear - All rights reserved