Written by a bored GI in the Fontaienbleu Gardens a short walk from his Casern garrison post.
The road to the Emerald City
is guarded by the Forts of Folly
And Four Horsemen ride Looking-Glass Land.
Alice, that Apocalyptic Beast,
Has Startled the White Rabbit
And Omar’s tents are all folded
The coffee spoons were melted
in furnaces in the Forts of Folly
Made into staples for the Orwell gun.
The Hobbits died afraid in exile
And Treebeard, that old Ent,
Fell on a darkling Plain.
We all seek our own road to Oz
And find our own way to Hell.