sound from iraq

 


The thing that make me turn the television on
and skip the pages of late paper
or listen to grand dad radio when he is out
is the same thing that makes
us burn with horror at the fact
and rage against the name of what
the modern riffraff calls a call of peace

when I watch TV everyday
the news was recited
like a momma reciting litanies;
telling about the body count…

Have supposed animals in slaughter
imagining arms around me
the shout the scream
the cry the wails
the siren song
arms in arm impaled upon me
in a mating dance of death

As the world comes down upon us
I pout, I stare;
Mouth agape at a coverage so clear
Antiseptic likes the nurse uniform
in respect of modern technology
telling me news in black and white.


First a little puff of smoke
told us a faction have scored a point
grandma denture flying out
like a rocket screaming hisssss
at the most vivid enactment
re creating classic battles
in the smoky hut it comes blaring
we found ourselves in the Arab land.

and here granny lead her voice to mine
and
I saw the lightening
and that na the gun
and then I hear the 'thunder' come
and that na the big gun
and them I come hear
the rain day fall,
and that na the drop of blood day fall
and when I go farm to gather our crops
na dead men I go gather'

I feeling the way things be
As I ask myself what be this?

who tell you say
I never hear the scream of realities
because me no they for dear
who tell you say
me never feeling the fate and horror
of a carnage way so complete
for our fine television

standing still eyes on the screen
in that moment we be the same
the wounded world right
in my in my granny hut

I was there inside an open skull
I was there inside a broken skin
I was there inside all drops of blood
I was there in the air with the paratroops
I was there falling down with the bombs
I was there inside the chaos of this century
I was there and I am here in the Smoky hut

I have lent out a voice among the location mob and drunks
I have lent out a voice among the intellectuals
But in the 'bush' the villagers though the Yankee was right
going at em the way James bones does
With all the fancy stuff shown on TV
To make it seems right

today the first causality were
the local dreamer dreaming
then suddenly sirens started screaming
the hospital were full to draining
on houses with no window left to smash
were rooms stank of gases and broken drain
in completion of roasted human meat.

The sound the color
To still the subtle fear
Made worse when the death were justified as right
But the joke was even funnier
Out of the valley of death
repeat a startling vision.

The thought of so much death
The more there is the less it mean
Though object find reflection in the eye
the mind alone knew what lies beyond

when a dwell is started
it is of a simple rule 'to win'
it cares not for the families it devastates
not you or me

at the onset both factions has the conviction
that they stand on the right side
willing to die and fight for a course justified to be right

but let us stick to the fact
can there be peace when peace means broken bones
can there?

With the tears at the corner of my eye
my body heard before I really did
the value I thought life posses
walking down the track of troop and saints,
runs down the street in stream of blood
hearing a mother crying for a son she loves
as terrorist claim them in the name of peace

Well
is there peace today
answer me
no there is no peace and there will never be
the donkey still wired with explosives
the fanatic Tommy is full of bombs
above the birds still screams laying down their eggs in flight
splintered knees and broken arms
marked the stable once that left home.

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