The Tottering Bobo

Every whack, kick, punch to the Bobo doll
will cause it to fall,
but it’ll rise back up again.

In Viet Nam,
la poupée bobo went down,
and the French got out.

In came the Americans,
and Koreans (from the South),
and Aussies (from Down Under),
and Thais.
Add a dash of Kiwis,
and sprinkle in some Spanish, Taiwanese, and Filipinos.

Add in Vietnamese from the South.
Try and separate from the Communists in the north.

Then mix ’em all together.
Stir steadily,
apply needed force,
and beat,
and bake.

Sparks fly.
Crackle, boom, rata-tat-tat, rata-tat-tat, boom.
A searing whistle nears,
Ears are ringing,
but you cannot hear.

Don’t mind if it all burns.

No, tad heavy on Communists.

Empire wailed.
So did each of the brave among them
in monologue;
the words came from a song:
This will be the day that I die.

Remove the corpses,
deny the crimes.

In the end,
you will lose,
but you’ll still live.
Be a man!
Don’t wet your cargo pants!

Run, Forrest, run!
To 22 Gia Long Street.

Don’t rest.
Make haste and climb to the rooftop.
Be polite,
wait your turn
or not.
Like a Brunswick sardine
into the canned chopper.
Chop, chop, chop.
Lift off.

For the home of the brave,
it was the day,
the day the music died.

So, bye, bye Miss American Pie.

But Bobo rose back up.
It was time to kick Viet Nam syndrome in the butt.

Bay of Pigs,
the mighty terror, Grenada,
Noriega was disobedient.
Saddam’s yanked from a spider hole.
Money talks.
goodbye Milosevic.

Bobo down,
Bobo back up.

Goodbye to the uppity Aristide.
Gotta learn not to disobey empire.
Into the caves of Afghanistan,
gotta get bin Laden.
Gaddafi is next.
Hillary cackled,
“We came, we saw, he died.”

For Syria,
US, Saudis, and Qataris
hire ISIS terrorist mercenaries.
Russia enters,
invited by Bashar.
Empire comes uninvited.

Viet Nam flashback in Afghanistan,
Afghan masses hang on the landing gear,
not for long.

Bobo down,
Bobo back up.

American hegemony is diminishing,
Ukraine is a backdoor to Russia’s rich resources.
Putin shakes his head,
wags his finger.
Biden and Zelensky play proxy war
for empire.

Zelensky addresses Congress
and asks for money,
but it won’t be enough,
he says.

Oh, and as I watched him on the stage.
My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in Hell
could break that Satan’s spell.

Empire is tottering.

Will Bobo rise again?

In the Far East,
China is ready.

  • For Angie.
  • A nod to Don McLean.
  • Otto sometimes draws cartoons and writes an occasional poem. Read other articles by otto.