Before we publish the winners of our poetry contest, we’re publishing all the entries, with eight grouped together in each of seven successive posts. There were more excellent entries than we had prize categories for, so we felt all the entries deserved public exposure.

Those we’ve judged as winners are included in these groups, without highlighting our choices. Later today, we’ll provide those winners within a single post.

Comments added by authors or by me will be the only things you’ll see in italics

Enjoy!

You go to war with what you have
whether you’re ready or you’re not;
And though you boys might get blown up
Midge Decter thinks I’m hot.

(Mark)

You Go To War With What You Have

When David slung his sling
And felled Goliath
like a sack of Iraqi potatoes,
He didn’t envy
the Giant’s helm
or long for armor other
than God’s breath.

When the cloud of desert dust
blew up from under the deadest of men,
David sighed and smiled,
reveling in his
Rumsfeldian triumph.

( ScrewyHoolie )

Note from Kevin: these count as two short entries, methinks.

Oil for blood

You go to war with
what you have, to take what you
don’t have enough of.

43

Idiot prince with
vain counselors. You go to
war with what you have.

( Mark Gisleson )

i don’t know but i been told
eskimo poontang’s mighty cold
no one said that life was fair
so quit your whinin’ over there

you go to war with the army you have
(us damned have-nots, ’specially)
not the army you wish you had
(an army of other guys, hopefully)

even a tank can get blown up
(an army no one wants to see)
in war there’s never a guarantee
(why oh god does it gotta be me?)

hut-two-three-four
the army owns your ass for four
five-six-seven-eight
its your recruiter you should hate

HOO-HAH!
.

( Cosa Nostradamus )

Entropy the Bitch

You go to war with what you have,
cold steel and heated blood,
bullets that kill long after the blast,
iron fist with an iron glove.

You go to war with what we have,
leaving empty beds and broken homes.
Built on the backs of the opiated masses,
your empire spreads the seed of doom.

Nothing lasts forever, the center never holds
Mighty were the fallen kings in the forgotten days of old.
Their treasures piled high until they rivaled even God
Pride and Vanity blinded them, an indestructible façade.
But their splendid armour rusted, their golden gates were felled.
Their castles crumbled down around them, dogs of war, dogs of hell.

And yet you believe you are immune to their unhappy fate?
You’ve been telling lies so long, they’ve now replaced your faith.
But God don’t brook liars and killers –
He never has and never will.
You hold the cards, such as they are,
Judgment draws nearer, ever still.
Every single death, every little drop of blood
forms a retribution river, soon to be a flood.

Famine, ice, and fire, God has used them all.
And we all may yet pay the price when you finally take the fall.
That is why we fight you, with everything we have.
With our voices raised, fists in the air, we never stop, never flag.
We fight you tooth and nail for the soul of all humanity -
For our children’s hope, we awoke our people’s fading sanity.
Your time is running short though you cannot see your end -
For we shall be the hand of God, we shall undo your sins.

You go to war with what you have,
but you’re not as strong as you believe.
For we go to war with what we have –
Armed with Truth, we shall set you free.

( Aethern )

You go to war with what you have.
We never promised you’d come back with it.
You whine it hurts when they debride your stump -
Soldier, find someone else who gives a shit.

(the last, of course, was all to be read in Rumsfeld voice…)

( Phoenician in a time of Romans )

Amen

You go to war with the army you have,
And not the Army you want.
You shoot the grouse released from the bag,
And not what is tricky to hunt.
You pack your cabinet with the stooges around,
And not those skilled or bright.
You do those things you are able to do,
Even when wrong they are Right.

You give a card to the Daddy you have,
And not the one you’d like.
You kiss the cheek of the momma you have,
And not wish she wasn’t a dyke.
You put your dongle in the port provided,
And not where you want to stick it.
You protest politely if at all,
And don’t annoy us with your picket.

You torture the prisoners ready to hand,
And not the ones who did wrong.
You charge and imprison those easy to nab,
Especially should they sell bongs.
You get in your bed with an Ambien pill,
And not with a conscience that’s clear.
You fill your head with the cocktail prescribed,
And not with the now-proscribed beer.

Even though you only go to church on the very rare Sunday,
All the good and proper Christians can’t judge you anyway.

Amen.

( Goat Boy )