Poetry for the Trumpen age

The Trumper's Afghani resurgence has sparked my poetic bent, which hath granted me much verse of heaven sent. 　
Your are cordially invited to peruse a new sonnet, let's sneak some bees in this crypto-militarist's bonnet ;)
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The New Deal Afghanistan

(C) Simeon Heath-Moss

The battlefield of hearts and minds;
it's just as barbed in our strange times,
the force of state, the uniformed scrum,
For freedom! Or for heroin and lithium?

The pious mask of statesmanship dropped,
'the evil terrorists, they must be stopped!',
the Midas touch, the scrapers of gold,
the trump card's been pulled by the circus caller of old.

'America First' was the croupier's mantra,
but alas his heart's swayed by military industrial tantra,
'That Clintonian harpy would have been a dictator!',
but this team too has bought the most elite of spectator.

The gold-plated Don did at first bring some panache,
but the stage is now set for soldiers and potash,
truth is these wars always have their own mafia and racket,
and so do the Don's who pitch at your demograph bracket.

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