The Oz Man Cometh, Part II

In the Shameful Shadow of Shelley's "Ozymandias"

I met a Baathist from a ravaged land
Who said: Two short, blue-trousered legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half-dazed by shock and awe, a visage frowns,
with wrinkled lip, and smirk of chimp-command.
No doubt Dick Cheney well those passions read,
Which squawk on yet, as do most lame-duck things,
Like mice that roar, while at the trough they fed,
And on one trouser-cuff these words appear:
"My name is W, unelected King:
Look on my Evil Axis and despair!"
No liberty remains. Round the decay
Of neo-cons and hegemonic air,
Fallujah's level sands stretch far away.

© Normal Ball