by Spiel
just another bombing day
where dozens bleed and die
but this time enacted with images
exactly like a video game
each side so precisely defined
not even sand nor heat comes into play
heaven forbid we might unsanitarily
have to mix our macaroni with our cheese
as our t.v.s consume a few more hundreds of pounds
of willing meat dumped over to some fool’s game
and god help us all that we should ever have to see
our butchered go down then flown home
beneath a flag-draped box
where our joystick
just might be
more lethal than a toy
The Poet Spiel is a tight-wired author painting naked portraits of humankind, thin-layering its hirsute beastiness and, on rare occasion, revealing its humanity. His most recent chap, "come here cowboy: poems of war," is available from www.puddinghouse.com. For more SpielSpeak and other Spiel Info, go to his website.
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