War, Un Soir Après la Guerre, Lucky Strike Went to War
WAR
The war is still going on
Everyone says they hate it
But the war goes on
No one wants to talk about it
Everyone is tired of it
Tired of complaining about it
But the war goes on
Year after year the war goes on
It will never end they say
There will always be war they say
Like there will always be blue skies
And sometimes we pretend there is no war
We go about our daily lives
Drinking coffee, eating lunch,
And we don't mention the war
But the war goes on
The world sucks itself into war like a vacuum
Pours itself into the black holes of war
When we are at war
Children love the soldiers
Men shave their heads
Wear tattoos
Buy camouflage clothing
One day we will all wear war clothing
We will buy maps of war
We will bathe in war
We will paint war in bright colors
We will feed the business of war
We will fill ourselves with war like meat
We will never be sated
War loves young men
with strong arms steely eyes
Is hungry for them.
War is not afraid of anything
War advertises itself with pictures
With books, articles
Body counts
Soon we will fall in love with war
Dream about war
War is patient
War is envious, boastful, arrogant
It insists on its own way
Is irritable and resentful
It rejoices in wrongdoing
And endures all things
War never ends
War is the seed of civilizations
The answer to peace and silence
We love the power of war
Its glory its strength
Its domination its sexiness
We love its manliness
War is a sea of blood and testosterone
Better than gladiators, wrestling, boxing
Better than bull fighting
War is the ultimate fight
Full of strong young men who kill each other
Rip the balls off each other
Fuck each other
We want war
UN SOIR APRÈS LA GUERRE
The war is over.
Deer are licking their wounds.
Pigeons no longer hide on the ledge.
Fear has been drained from the trees.
The war is over.
We are all drinking vodka from tall blue glasses.
Men are vaccinated against love.
The fingernails of women have grown back.
The war is over.
The soldiers all have chocolate behinds.
Each pint of milk has a new red cap.
Silk dresses fall apart like cobwebs.
The war is over.
We have discovered napping as a solution
and table manners are passé.
We meet in parlors once a month to discuss poetry.
The war is over.
Even teddy bears are running away
with cupcakes in their hands.
LUCKY STRIKE WENT TO WAR
My old man broke the sink with an axe.
Wouldn't wade in water for a drowning calf,
but he'd watch dogs drooling for chickens.
Before winter we finished the gin and bacon,
made meals of milk and crackers and jars
of plum conserve. And in my dark bedroom
shadows of pines wove a net of black webs
around the orange radio dial shining
like a moon. Me on my mattress of corn shucks
listening to the Health & Happiness Hour,
him rocking all night on the porch.
When Lucky Green went to war, come back
red and white. When my old man
went to war, come back black and blue.
