Par For The Course Poem by Stanley Cooper

Bombs explode with shock and awe
Bodies strewn across earth's floor
Witness to our own mortality
Watched through hazy unreality

Hold on-Time out-Just wait
They mustn't be late,
Brits are traditionally smitten
With tea-time in traditional Britain

Once wide-eyed, youngsters can't see
All the hurt in this war's debris
Body bags return by the score
Filled with youthful innocents of yore

Terrified, mortified
Bestiality verified
Earth warring around it's axis
While we complain of increasing taxes

As the blood bath is managed in London, D.C.
They feed us the soaps on mindless TV
We're immersed in insanity of mass entertainment
Instead of holding those leaders to war-crime arraignment

Hold on-Time out-the war can wait
It's tee-up time, golfers can't be late
The war is held in surreal suspension
Somewhere, over there in another dimmension

Yanks relish sport competition
Much as Brits do their tea-time tradition
Tea-time or tee-time just can't wait
War's no excuse when T-times are late

For those citizen sheep
In open-eyed sleep
There's no time for remorse
When it's T-time, of course