A Critic's Fate Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

The officer who would not like the name of borderguard,
took his green passport, open at the photo page.
Flipping his fingers while one eye was kept on Mitch,
and chewed a wad of chewing gum that threatened to escape
from fleshy lips beneath a Boston gray Moustache.

'It has been brought', so said the voice in Texas Drawl,
'to our attention at the proud DOHS,
that one -so far elusive- perpetrator, has
besmirched the character and lily skin of this great USA!

The name's the same, so would you possess an alibi,
and 'Banson', might it be a clever cover
for Hadshi Halef or some other smelly name,
I bet your turban's hid' inside your scrawny ass.'

'So, out with it, you marked a score of ten
onto an Irish so-called poem, work of treason,
we've just invaded Northern Regions with our allies,
it took an hour and a half to wipe out Dublin!

You askin' me, they're friggin' Muslim lovers,
green camouflage is for the desert, don't we know it.
As a collaborator in this time of war
you are as guilty as them Afghans with their rugs,
and brand new powers make quick work of all them matters.
So have a seat, they will be here to pick you up.'

And when he asked about his now intended fate,
the wad flew out this time and landed on his shoe.
'They'll make it easy, after all we're civilised,
a single bullet and you won't know that it's coming.

I'm dropping your green passport in the shredder,
can see with my own eyes, you lousy spy,
en route to Krautland, which will be invaded,
by dawn tomorrow they will eat no sauerkraut.

The way I see it, if you ask me, this whole globe
is round and ball-shaped, which is what we stand for,
the balls to do things that need urgent doing,
and round America, as pure as Apple Pie.

I figger all them sheiks and mullahs do need cleansing,
all kingdoms and those nations of suspicion,
will be contained and then re-structured our way.
So, in the end we'll have America and Crawl,
which is the name that comes, directed by the White House
and encompasses all the filth not our own.
The land of Crawl will be what's left of populations,
that showed some promise and their role is one of service.

Oh, yes, of course, this is the New World that was needed.
We will sit back and all the Crawlies will be slaving,
and after all we have the mandate of our people.
It is a pity that you won't be here to see it.'