They took your statue down. You’re honored still: Honored by those who understand you well, Honored by condemnation from George Will. To you, we know, it’s not a bitter pill, This moment when the seas of hatred swell. They took your statue down. You’re honored still For great strength, virile heart, and iron will. You’re honored by your vile detractors’ smell, Honored by condemnation from George Will (Who never fails to let effete words spill), Honored by truths that shrieks cannot dispel. They took your statue down. You’re honored still. Emasculated mobs can’t seize the hill On which the memories of heroes dwell. Honored by condemnation from George Will, You need not take a bow. Our spirits thrill To think how manfully you rode through hell. They took your statue down? You’re honored still-- Honored by condemnation from George Will.
1 Comment
Kabul has fallen to the Taliban-- But do not say our military brass Have failed. They’ve had some setbacks, sure. Alas For those! But think of all their triumphs, man! Obsolete thought is in the garbage can. Stereotypes are shattering like glass On Kristallnacht, and loads of tranny ass Are in the service now. Plus, there’s that ban On Rebel Flags that Southern soldiers dared To fly in decades past, on hatred fed Until our leaders showed how much they cared. Esteem for Bedford Forrest now is dead Because the most woke grievances were aired. Our bases fly the Rainbow Flag instead. Esteem you for your genius? Just a little--
But most of all your people loved the peace That stood behind your fury. In the middle Of your much-troubled heart, there dwelt surcease From trouble’s weight and unrestrained increase, From victory’s excess, defeat’s despair. The calm philosophers of Ancient Greece Had nothing on you, Old Marse Robert, there. Oh, sure, you had a temper – and would dare To show it now and then. Was that a flaw? Our flawed humanity can hardly care. Only the smallest souls here opt to gnaw. Your whole life built a monument to duty-- A structure now unparalleled for beauty. |
AuthorTom Riley was born in Buffalo, but through study has become a Rebel from Yankeeland. He works as a freelance copywriter and is the author of Love Poems of a Hatemonger and The Ghost of Biden’s Brain. Archives
July 2023
|
Proudly powered by Weebly