Grass For Blades

Atomic man, embossed on hues of
Money greens that swell and ooze, will
Scratch his chin as if to muse that
All this winning meant to lose
Though he slaved and hate his dues
Here he was, no time to choose
A way to change and try to fuse him-
Self into the way the queues around him
«Attack you fools!» the captain bawls
«I have your heads upon my walls!»
Rows of heroes crouch to crawls, bomb
Bamboo huts and village halls, smash
Ping-pong bats with cannon balls, as
Ali-Baba's sheiks and sauls
Debag Goliath as he falls
While the Statue Of Liberty climbs and mauls everything
«Champagne for the heroe whore
And watch your step in all that gore
But not too much, he’ll scream for more»
El pres. advices from the door
«For though he’s filled from skin to core
It’s not enough he’ll whine for sure, so
Say it’s we who keep the score, and
Nail him back upon the floor, yeh»
So there he works, still at large
Behind his smiles and his camouflage
Of nice white coats and college grades that
Hide blue suits with golden braids
And though I hope the smell just fades
It does not go but leads to raids on
Bamboo huts in country glades
Where the people use the grass for blades, ain’t that something