MURDER, POLITICS, AND THE END OF THE JAZZ AGE
by Michael Wolraich
Order today at Barnes & Noble / Amazon / Books-A-Million / Bookshop
MURDER, POLITICS, AND THE END OF THE JAZZ AGE by Michael Wolraich Order today at Barnes & Noble / Amazon / Books-A-Million / Bookshop |
They watched the Towers shudder and fall
In disbelief
Those iconic up-thrust symbols of wealth
Melting in shivering cascades of dust and flesh
Keening wails rose up through choking smoke
As hordes of Banshees took wild flight
In shock they toiled, in shock they mustered, in shock found brotherhood
As they rescued all they could
The world stood still and held its breath, even the skies were silent
Except for the planes that were get-aways, filled with Princes of Saud
So many knew how it was
To be bombedvaporizedviolated, both the vanquished and victorious
But not this land! It wasn’t done! A brand new game it seemed
Goodwill poured in from around the world, offers to help in every way
From nations and people of every faith
The Muslim world condemned the deeds, though not loudly enough for some
But the Leader said this is the work of a few, many are our Partners in Peace
Don’t condemn the Many for the deeds of the Few
So soon it wore away, that unity
As they were urged to fear and loathe
The hijab, the shimagh, the burqua, the turban, The Other
Revenge was required it seemed
Blood libel sang to them
Dissenters were shouted down
Battle cries of “9/11!” shook the land and clutched the nation’s soul
We must show our might! Their leaders screamed
Nothing else will do
But that we mow them down for this impunity
This travesty undeserved
We’ll chew them up and spit them out
They’ll not fuck with us again!
They offered cynical carrots to despots unlovable
And forged some weak accords
Sent cash and arms and fearsome threats to any
Who’d play their parts
To help destroy these dastardly foes
They sought security through might not right
And abjured the path toward peace
Asked only one lying question about the cause
Answered themselves with greater lies
So often they got writ in stone
So they shocked and awed and shocked some more
And tied yellow ribbons to help
Flags and flags and flags again
As Blue Ribbon moms unfurled
And shook their fists and called them traitors
As some walked defiantly
For Peace
And Muslims prayed
No internment camps, please!
They recalled the language of violence too well
Given what they’d mis-taught Geronimo’s friends
And still never thought to question
What fueled the rage that brought the Towers down
They were lied to by their leaders
And didn’t care, didn’t cry, Did.Not.Cry.
As bombs turned night to day, millions of tons of bombs
The cradle of civilization, its art and texts
Gone in a hail of retaliatory rage
It’s ruined now, but hey
They promised them purple fingers on the way
Not quite out the door
Then onward to the place of sand where Empires go to die
Those deaf, blind students of history
Fools in search of enemies, any old which ones will do
Kill and capture who you can, we’ll sort it out
Later
Soldiers were told; a big prison’s over yonder
They called it COIN but what it really was
Was bales of cash, army uniforms and guns
The ‘Treats’ of a game of Trick or Treat
The ‘Tricks’ unspeakable now
Never mind
No one witnessed the terror of the dustylovelyplaying children
Or the farmers tending crops
When the sound of an approaching drone froze them
In place in fear and trance
They’d never heard of the 9/11 time change the West now reckoned by
‘before or after’
And did they wonder, “Why DO they hate us so?”
At home they watched Survivor as though it mattered
And Dancing Stars and Oprah
They shopped and drove their cars and bought Exxon stock while their very own Rome
Burned without the sizzle
The lucre in their treasury grew small, but never fear, Uncle Ben created more out of air
Through some silent and curious agreement
That it was worth something more
Than entries on a balance sheet
Few spoke the name of Geronimo for a time
Though it was implied within the conjoined letters A and Q
Evil Personified, a useful tool
Psy-ops Charismatic Boogey Man in a dress
Few new tapes to debunk or not
Was he dead?
They hounded his brethren across more borders with drones
Fewer carrots, more sticks, more Tricks, less Treats
Insanity. Kapow. Kablooie. Oops; sorry
Where is God? Where is Allah? Who misplaced humanity?
At home it all fell apart in one swell foop
The people lost houses and savings and future
Hope
While their leaders abetted the heist
Exxon and Raytheon grew fat as Wall Street bankers smokin’ stogies
Gorging on the work of the peasants until even the work was gone
Millions unemployed, underemployed; “Would you like fries with that?”
Did the leaders even take note?
The wars would end any day, the people were told
Just as soon as X, Y and Z and
Remember Geronimo!
As the Generals and spies played musical chairs
On the deck of the Titanic while few were even aware because
American Idol. Hunger. Homelessness. Xanax and Viagra. Austerity. Video games.
Amnesia. Sweet amnesia.
Then one night the people’s Leader came on their teevees to tell them a story
Of intel and courage and decision
In the North of a nation with whom they’d formed a crap alliance
And he soberly announced that Ding, Dong, the Witch was Dead
Americans can do anything they set out to do, one nation under God
I forget the rest just now
Something about justice, I think?
And then the stories changed and changed a little more
But the people won’t mind, the end’s the same
Though justice it was not, but instead, Satisfaction
Geronimo was consigned to the Briny Deep
The Leader got a Geronimo bump
Maybe there would be a Geronimo Peace Dividend
The people did not hold their breaths
But please, for the sake of the real Geronimo
Remember
They code-named Osama bin Laden
Geronimo
But they killed him like
Crazy Horse (Art by Anthony Freda @ www.anthonyfreda.com)
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Comments
Suzan Harjo and Winona Laduke were on Democracy Now! discussing the use of Geronimo's name, and Laduke expanded the discussion to Native Americans being screwed over by the military over and over, and very cavalierly. I would love to have had her as a Vice President; she's smart, tough, and has some cool tatts on her right wrist.
http://www.democracynow.org/2011/5/6/native_american_activist_winona_laduke_on
(And here Genghis was worrying about Mr.Stardust commenting on my diaries. ;o) I'd forgotten to remind him that Oxy Mora used to tease me about commenting on my own sometimes when they got no comments. I even sometimes took an adversarial position. ;o)
by we are stardust on Fri, 05/06/2011 - 10:46pm
That's nothing - I used to troll my own posts, and one time almost got myself fired in real life.
by Desider on Sun, 05/08/2011 - 3:01pm
'Troll troll troll yourself, gently down the thread...merrily, merrily ,merrily, merrily...life is full of dread.
And happy mother's day to you and all of us.... ;o)
by we are stardust on Sun, 05/08/2011 - 7:44pm
Star, you have told a godd story that is a story of so much bad and you have told it well. Thanks.
by A Guy Called LULU on Sat, 05/07/2011 - 11:44am
Thanks, Lulu. I won't reply under you just in case you didn't mean it was a Godd story. :o) Now I remember asking where was God here, so...
Since no one's reading this anyway, I'll say I had a bit of an up yesterday. Now it may just be that Anthony Freda knew I'd been feelin' funky and lower than Lowly Worm's boot draggin' along the sidewalk, but...(parenthesis)( When i use his art, he asks me to send him the piece it would accompany, he can approve, or not) (end parenthesis), and I sent this with clacking knees and a trembling voice. But in the return email, he asked if I'd contribute something for a highly illustrated compilation of essays he's putting together. Dunno if it's dead tree or online, but it got my eyes blinking rapidly, I'll say that. Even if it doesn't work out.
But yeppers; it's a bad story of ten years of Military Madness, and it seems to me that on this story, IF, as the saying goes, 'Opinions are like assholes, everybody's got one', this time, lotsa people have about eleventthree opinions. (Sorry for the grisly image, but...)
Jeez; I just thought: Anthony, if you read this, you knocked me out. Seriously; and thanks.
by we are stardust on Sat, 05/07/2011 - 12:31pm
Do all those who died in the Iraq and Afghanistan wars now get their lives back?
by AmericanDreamer on Sat, 05/07/2011 - 1:10pm
Heart-rending question, Dreamer. Even the live ones won't really everget their countries back, either. Finding out even some of what's going on in Iraq leaves you breathless with rage. And in Afghanistan, what can become of the children?
by we are stardust on Sat, 05/07/2011 - 1:29pm
Triggered by your poignant words, notably this part:
by AmericanDreamer on Sat, 05/07/2011 - 1:50pm
Funny; that's the same bit Mr. DustyDrapes liked, too.
by we are stardust on Sat, 05/07/2011 - 6:34pm
One day Star, we'll see our children in theirs. We'll stop trading lives for horrors that can't be undone by trading lives. Any lives. We'll stop pretending that we can solve even one of our problems by killing each other. We'll stop avenging our pasts and give hope to the dreams of our futures. One day, Star, we'll suddenly recognize our shared humanity, lay down our arms and embrace like the long lost friends we are.
by kyle flynn on Sat, 05/07/2011 - 2:40pm
Tears, too many to talk yet, kyle flynn. Just for now:
by we are stardust on Sat, 05/07/2011 - 4:17pm
Blessed are the peacemakers.
by kyle flynn on Sat, 05/07/2011 - 5:34pm
Kyle, a friend sent me this photo on the second or third day I was writing this. The child on the right looks so much like my grandson Elijah it's eerie. I wanted to post it with this poem, but there wasn't a web page included. I just found it after the sixth search. It's from a post by Jacobe Freeze; he was always about saving the children.
Asia heart of world, Afghanistan heart of Asia, Hazarajat heart of Afghanistan, Bamyan Heart of All Hazaras in world, these boys are belongs to Bamyan.look at there friendship they don’t think about there Poverty. They need your help.
Thanks, Jacob. It's hard to look away from them.
by we are stardust on Sat, 05/07/2011 - 4:50pm
Happy Mothers Day.
by kyle flynn on Sat, 05/07/2011 - 5:37pm
You too, kyle. And your far-seeing plea is a keeper; I'm glad it's here for me to look at now and again.
On a lighter note, I asked Mr. Stardust not to get me anything for Mumsy Day; broke, all that... so he came home from Cow-tez with tulips that were expressly not for the day. But behind his back he held something, fighting a goofy grin. He held his hand out like it held another small bouquet, and there it was: A Killer Fly-swatter! Gift of my dreams...the one we had was so cheesey it was like swattin' a fly with a limp banana peel; no, worse than that. Made the flies chuckle, but never kilt one!
But now: TAWANDA! Look out you buzzing beasties; Stardust is on the prowl! ;o)
by we are stardust on Sat, 05/07/2011 - 6:31pm
A poignant ballad of sadness and badness. Would dearly love to hear you read it from atop one of the sacred mesas. I especially liked "Psy-ops Charismatic Boogey Man in a dress."
The last line was hard for me read. I assume you intended it to be so. I'm thinking that few people who have even a smidgen of respect for Native America want to see Osama compared to Crazy Horse.
by Watt Childress on Tue, 05/10/2011 - 5:19pm
Thanks, Watt. And I doubt it, too; it created more of a 'thing' that I'd imagined it would. When I ran into it, I hadn't realized it was soon to become almost common knowledge.
And we'll pray and hope that we can turn a corner, but it's a tough lift to truly imagine.
by we are stardust on Tue, 05/10/2011 - 5:56pm