The Trap

It has been some weeks since the Libyan rebels announced they had surrounded Khaddafi and his loyalists, yet the war, if it can be described so, goes on. Have the rebels been sucked into a trap? Have Khaddafy’s  loyalists, determining they could not operate in the open because of Nato air attack, pulled the old fall back in retreat, drawing the enemy into a trap where they will be impaled on the loyalist armor? It is too soon to tell, but the strategy is as old as warfare itself.



The Golden Horde

Under its lord

The great one Genghis Khan

Would turn and run

And then the fun

Began for Russ and Han

The crescent wings

With stout bow strings

Would circle round the foe

They’d close the gap

And then the trap

Would lay the foemen low

And so it is

That soda fizz

Escapes its prison home

And gives a shout

As bubbling out

Khaddafy henchmen roam

The city streets

Until one meets

The rebel Berber host

Who lightly armed

Are greatly harmed

Despite Obama’s boast

That he has won

And that the sun

On Austerlitz doth shine

And by his wiles

Khaddafy smiles

And says this land’s still mine


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