the sound of War...
...informs my performance every night now. All the television stations are ablaze with the crash of bombs, and silence of people far away from our safety. Here in America we are living with the "threat of terror," Iraqi citizens are now living with the terror falling from the sky.
I am listless. Feeling powerless against the lies that flood the media, the biased reports, the disparity between what we say and what we do.
How can we in good conscience support any war? How can we look at the images of children dying and say that what we are doing is right.
An eye for an eye. Who decides which eye is an equal exchange for which eye?
All the official male white voices are "very pleased" about the death and destruction that even now, is being carried out on a people who have been under the rule of a merciless tyrant for years. Do we have to kill them to liberate them?
I am going to the protest on Saturday. Times Square. You should go if you can. One more body makes a difference. One more body makes the media, the govt. have to lie about the few voices that are against the war.
I am far from eloquent today. Only the sorrow of these faces I will never know, makes me able to come to this page. I rage, because when there is nothing in our hands, no guns, no bombs, no tanks in our corner, we have our voice. I remind myself, I have my voice.
Even if no one hears me, my screams provide music for my own movement. If I can walk, I can dance. If I can talk, I can sing.
This war is wrong. This war is Wrong. THIS WAR IS WRONG.
It was wrong before they began dropping fire on the homes of these innocent people, and it is wrong now that they control some of Southern Iraq (funny how the biggest oil feild in Iraq is in that area!)
My body is cranky today. Unable to move with any fluidity. Everything is Jerky. I feel like I am a part of what happened before the holocaust. This time it's not the Jews. This time it is those whose lives are greased with the slick of oil. They are wrong for having it. We are right for wanting it.
Oil for blood they say. Wonder which is thicker. Black and red. Both liquid. Both necessary for the way we live here in the west. I like my room warm in the winter. Wonder how many kids I killed with my 90 degree-livingroom with the horrid lamp?
I had a fight with my favorite aunt today. She so strongly believes that this fucking war is the will of Fucking God. Me? I'm not so sure that I know enough about God and the will that drives the movement of the Universe. Killing kids is wrong. No matter who is holding the Gun.
I be writing my own rants. Most of them are bad. But they are honest.
Fuck Bush
and the white horse he keeps riding
high up there
he can't hear no wailing
can't see no bruising of hearts
and bodies seen too many wars
we only like these sports cars
fully loaded with anti-aircraft this
and operation freedom that
Who the fuck
is Bush perched up there on that hairy
white animal
dividing a people again
and again
flirting with Civil War
his foreign affairs
are far worse than Bill's ever was
A little bit of fucking in the whitehouse
perhaps
loosened up the tight asses
running that place
bunch of squares living in an oval space
everybody racing towards
public opinion
public opinion, my arse
people marching from coast
to jail to coast to the UN
arrests and sit ins
and walk outs
and still "the American people are United in this war"
In this war the press and the White House
are united against the vox populi
armageddon
all of this resembling
TS Eliot's Waste
a land whose center threatens
lives and loves
Nothing will hold under this ruler
Saddam
Bush
Osama
Hitler
I am hard pressed to remind myself
dictators
humanity always
survives them...
Peace and poetry,
Staceyann
Posted by staceyann at March 21, 2003 03:50 PM
