“War is only a cowardly escape
from the problems of peace.”
“War is a racket. It is the only one international in scope. It is the only
one in which the profits are reckoned in dollars and the losses in lives.”
—Major General Smedley D. Butler
Slaughtering Seneca, Seminole;
Slaughtering Creek, Choctaw, Mohawk,
Cayuga, Blackfeet—like some demonic
Department Of War. It was always Department of War.
Slaughtering Sioux, Shawnee, Chickasaw;
Slaughtering Chippewa, Lakota, Ohlone—
Like some demonic Department Of War. It was
Always Department of War.
Capturing bodies; and looting labor of Ashanti,
Fulani, Huasa, Wolof, Yoruba, Ibo, Kongo,
Mongo, Hutu, Zulu… Like some demonic
Department Of War. It was always Department of War.
Great oceans east and west.
Friendly neighbors north and
South—Department of Defense
Never made sense. It was always Department of War.
It was always Department Of War. Always
Class war with Offal Office in War House!
Class war with Capitalist Hill! Class war with
White Supreme Courtesans in revealing black robes!
Does dull thud of boot heels goose-stepping down
D.C. streets to “Dixie” surprise you? Have you been
Attaching Fox-box electrodes to skull; stuffing pizza
Hole; self-lobotomizing for decades on the La-Z-Boy?
It was always Department Of Cooked Books. Department Of Can’t
Pass An Audit. Department Of Greasy-Thumbed Grifters. Always
Department Of $500 hammers and $10 pencils billed as “impact
Fasteners,” and “portable hand-held transcribing devices” on our dime!
It was always ‘Luftwaffe’ dropping 2,000 lb. bombs on
Hospitals and homes. Making pools of blood bloom from babies’ heads—
And rechristening children, ‘Civilian Casualty,’ and ‘Collateral Damage’
With lethal lies.
It was always ‘Wehrmacht’ with nightmarish music of moans—
Hair-raising, heart-pounding shrieks. With unlimited capacity for
Cruelty and savagery—like cutting off fingers of fallen fighters
For souvenirs… and urinating on their bodies …
It was always confederacy—champion of chains and whips. Blood-
Thirsty warfare state—unleashed on neighbor, inhabitant alike. It
Is also glorious, technicolor, dream! Will we rise, realizing it? Or,
Will we fall, presenting ‘Nobel War Prize’ to traitor-pedophile-Führer?
Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet; Black Agenda Report's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC.
