War Powers Inactivity
(after the style of Lewis Carroll's "The Walrus and the Carpenter")
ABABAB

When “future terrorists” – or kids –
are killed by us, we cheer.
Does that mean that we’re on the skids
or drowning in our beer?
or just that we have placed our bids
on ignorance and fear?

“How do we kill or sanction you?”
We’d really like to know.
“Intelligence”: the urge to screw,
or follow -- Blow-by-Blow --
our latest instigated coup
that has us eating crow.

The Constitution’s every clause
they’ve set about to rend
betraying without breath or pause
what they’ve sworn to defend:
our system of historic Laws
upon which we depend.

We’ll soon have new elections fraught
with consequences grim.
No matter whom the voters thought
they wanted, Her or Him,
it turns out someone else has bought
the “winning” Warfare Whim.

The Power of the Purse reserves
to Congress what to fund
OR NOT. Which in a war of nerves
left Richard Nixon stunned.
“No Money then No Honey” serves
both bar girl and the shunned . . .

Executive (or President)
who thought he could command
a war without one copper cent
and no public demand.
So, this is how the answer went:
“You, Sir, can go pound sand.”

The Founders by inspired design
refused one man alone
the power, wicked and malign,
to sit upon a throne
and with his signature consign
to multitudes a moan.

Two “wars of choice” that one man one chose
have chosen us, it seems.
“The Emperor wears new green clothes!”
the Emerald City screams.
The question answered: No one knows
why Team Trump lives such dreams.