Executive Order

To shoot unarmed civilians
    Requires panache, aplomb,
A conscience with resilience
    Or else exceeding numb,

But yet, “Support the soldiers!
    Support the troops!” we hear,
When words are not divulgers
    Of honest meaning clear.

For, strutting proud like peacocks
    Whilst causing blood to flow
Remits dementia praecox
    In all who posture so— 

It is a tad ironic
    To see marauding thugs
Complexed Napoleonic
    As if they were on drugs.

No, do not point that rifle
    Nor let the bullets fly,
A soul is not a trifle,
    And men who kill must die.

A people countenancing
    Such murder and such crime
May call it self-defensing,
    But truth comes out in time.

For Jesus was a stranger
    And lo! you shut him out;
Was hungry, but with anger
    Did all compassion flout.

It was your own Lord Jesus
    You shot if shoot you did,
And rubbed his words in feces
    Which deed will not stay hid.