i (i) wrote,

John, John, John,
you've got your priorities all wrong.
While men fly airplanes into skyscrapers,
dive bomb the pentagon,
while they stick explosives into their shoes,
and then book a seat right next to us,
while they hide knives in their luggage,
steal kids on school buses,
take little girls from their beds at night
drive trucks into our state capital buildings,
while our president calls dangerous men all over the world
evildoers and devils,
while we live in the threat of biological warfare
nuclear destruction,
you are out buying yardage
to save Americans
from the appalling
alarming, abominable
aluminum alloy of evil,
that terrible ten foot tin tittie.
You might not be able to find Bin Laden
But you sure as hell found the hooter in the hall of justice.
It's not that we aren't grateful
But while we were begging the women of Afghanistan
To not cover up their faces
You are begging your staff members to
Just cover up that nipple
To save the American people
From that monstrous metal mammary
How can we ever thank you?
So, in your office every morning
in your secret prayer meeting
while an American woman is sexually assaulted every 6 seconds
while anthrax floats around the post office
and settles in the chest of senior citizens,
you've got another chest on your mind.
While American sons arrive home in body bags
and heat seeking missiles
fly around a foreign country
looking for any warm body
you think of another body.
And you pray for the biggest bra in the world John
because you see that breast on the spirit of justice
in the spirit of your
own inhibited sexuality.
And when we women see
our grandmothers, our mothers, our daughters, our granddaughters,
our sisters, ourselves,
when we women see that
statue the spirit of justice
we see the spirit of strength
the spirit of survival.
While every day
we view innocent bodies dragged out of rubble
and women and children laid out
like thin limp dolls
and baptized into death as collateral damage
and the hollow eyed Afghani mother's milk has dried
up underneath her burka
in famine in shame
and her children are dead at her breast.
While you look at that breast John
that jug on the spirit of justice
and deal with your thoughts of lust
and sex and nakedness
we see it as a testimony to motherhood
And you see it as a tit.
It's not the money it cost.
It's the message you send.
We've got the right to live in freedom.
We got the right to cheat Americans out
of millions of dollars and then
just not want to tell congress about it.
We've got the right
to drop bombs night and day
on a small country that has no army,
no navy, no military at all,
because we've got the right to bear arms
but we just better not even think
about not the right to bare breasts.
So now John you can be photographed
while you stand there and talk about
guns and bombs and poisons
without the breast appearing over your right shoulder
without that bodacious bosom bothering you
and we just wanted to tell you
in the spirit of justice
in the spirit of truth
there is still one very big boob left standing there in that picture.

Claire Braz-Valentine

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