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Nat Lipstadt Oct 2023
“What can a poem do?”
—————————-


”A poem
is a not a tourniquet
when you’re bleeding.
It’s not water when you’re thirsty
or food when you’re hungry.
A poem can’t protect you from an airstrike,
or from abduction, or from hate.
It’s hard to write when our words feel
like they’re not enough—they can’t do
the real, tangible work of saving lives,
or making people safer.”

(see (1) Maggie Smith)

<~>

as is my wont,
I write,
as is my Natted~inhabited,
retiring to the local watering holes of
Cerebrum & Cerebellum,
them regular haunts,
where all requests are mailed, processed, satisfied & marked;
‘return & render to the sender, who’s on a cerebral ******!’
and that request?

‘give me the words’ (2)

those ‘to do’ words, floaters, direct to top of list,
those ‘can do’ words, that can effect the affect,
spare the despair, realize the fungible, concretize cures,
soften hard waters, giving a worsening worn life fabric a
curated baby blanket feel, a 4-ply human tissue of

‘words that tell me everything’ (2)

salve solution verbs that bounty-wipe spills in entirety,
vacuum up spillage spoiling of 17 days of terrible nouns,
uncovered-unknown rages caused by inflicting prepositions
released a hatred rising,
safety rebury it deeper, drug & destruct the sleeper agents,
and let me start over again with

‘telling me everything by saying nothing’ (2)

the pausal silence, the quieted spaces tween the heartbeats,
where ‘reflection,’
the noun,
and its world of alternations,
reflection,
the noun,
look inwards, but shining outward,
this, this!
is where the poem goes to do!
enervating & arresting

its contradictory powers
rock you into wild docility,
possessive and submissive,
contradictory interferences,
smoothing the roughness,
closing the gaps it opens,
healing the caused truthful cuts,
with words that tell you
everything and nothing,
open the holes, filling the gaps,
that is what a
poem do,
in and by
the manner it is spoken…

<~>

“Sometimes a poem is the stone you carry in your pocket—the one you rub when you’re worried.  Let’s fill our pockets with poems.”
(see (1) Maggie Smith)
(1) Maggie Smith Oct. 24
(see link https://open.substack.com/pub/maggiesmith/p/what-can-a-poem-do

(2) see the lyrics  to”In a  Manner of Speaking”
MARK RIORDAN Apr 2017
THE SYRIAN REBELS HAVE
USED A CHEMICAL ATTACK
CIVILIAN WOMEN AND CHILDREN
WERE UNDER THE RACK


A CHEMICAL WEAPON WAS
USED ON THE INNOCENT CHILDREN
THE BRUTAL REALITY OF THE CIVIL WAR
MAY NEVER REACH A CONCLUSION


A PLACE OF HEALING AND AN AIRSTRIKE
WAS LAUNCHED ON A HOSPITAL
WHAT AN ATROCITY AND DISGRACE
HOW COULD THIS BE POSSIBLE


A NERVE AGENT ATTACK BY
THE SYRIAN GOVERNMENT
THE WORLD IS DISCUSSED


THE U.N. THE WORLD LEADERS
SHOULD STOP THIS ATROCITY
RETALIATION IS A MUST
THE CHEMICAL WEAPONS ATTACK IN SYRIA IS AN ABOMINATION IT HAS GONE TO FAR.
Carlo C Gomez Jul 2022
people are friends
to the bone
—bottomliners,
no human can drown,
but they can turn
from a solid to a liquid,
whose name is written on water,
whose laying facedown
on the topsoil?

lovely thunder today,
good weather for an airstrike,
the road is a gray tape
over magnetic fields,
too fragile to walk on,
a sudden Manhattan of the mind:
all of the buildings
are time passing fragments
in spawned harbinger,
accidently reacting like
a stream with bright fish
below the waste.
Bleeding eclipse splatters anguish, scorching frozen terrain
Reservoir transmits despair, vaporizing humid remains
Noxious fumes plague ventilation, incinerating methane mutilates
Inhumane detonations ignite smog, dismembering shrapnel decimates

Bombardments stimulate hallucinations, assailants discharge magazines
Incendiaries barrage trenches, vulnerability flourishes disease
Artilleries eject carnage, atrocious quarantine impedes retreat
Projectiles massacre infantry, heinous airstrike parries deceit

Howitzer impersonates tempest, kamikaze technique revealed
Nautical battleships converge, perilous adversaries concealed
Submarines launch torpedoes, oblivious warships sealed doom
Submersed submersibles clash, claustrophobic vessels entomb

Drowning agony crushes depths, forsaken lagoon transforms necropolis
Aquatic daemons consume decrepit, infernal torment surrenders providence
Condemned mortals cauterize compassion, genocide exterminates consciousness
Snorkeling corpses mound topside, eradicated infestation forfeited holocaust
Holocaust [May 11, 2017]
Category: History/Fiction/Relative
What if WWII ended differently?
Andrew Rueter Jul 2020
One strike from the air should be considered one airstrike
yet here in America we conflate air raids with airstrikes.

We say one plane dropping one bomb is an airstrike
but five planes dropping twenty bombs is also an airstrike
obfuscating the definition of the term
to lessen its rhetorical effect
and the statistics of our shady war efforts.

In terms of airstrikes we should count every explosive munition
because on the ground people are dealing with individual impacts
but our imperial aerial view makes it look like just one big explosion.
Erasure & Found Poem from
"On Photography By Teju Cole in april 16th new york times magazine

--

You were The fast moving disaster of a tsunami
added to the slow motion disaster
of a nuclear calamity

Towns flooded
Infrastructure wrecked
Forests splintered
more than 15,000 people dead.
earthquake cut off
my external power supply
Floodwaters damaged my backup generators
Disabled it's cooling system
Overheating ensued
Fuel in three reactor cores melted
Releasing radiation

Everyone saw The water coming in
The roads swept away
Towns and harbors destroyed

Extensive documentary work
was undertaken by photographers
Of the ruins,
Debris,
Cleanup and relief operations

The gut-wrentching scale of destruction
The professionalism of the emergency crews
The fortitude of the survivers

The extreme uncertainty I feel
in our current political moment
helps me understand for the first time
the curious twinship
of mourning and premonition.

Information
about the tragedy
Sorrow for the suffering it caused
Gratitude for the work
that makes sorrow visible
Foreboding about the future.

An alert flashes
your phone
Something terrible has happened
Far away, a flood, an airstrike,
Soon, there's footage of people picking through wreckage
what used to be their homes

It is easy to pity them
Difficult to imagine this will be you
Suddenly bereft of a solid place in the world.

Listening to anything
that touches on the sublime
makes me apprehensive.

Like The silence that greets us
waking in the middle of the night
Jonny Angel May 2015
It's crazy how sometimes
we'd lay there forever
gathering intel.
The bad guys
would move around
as if they owned the place,
scurrying to and fro,
moving ordnance,
an RPG or two,
lots of AK's.
Most of the time
when we saw them like that,
we'd bag them in an airstrike.
Game over.
Camo works.
Sandman Mar 2018
Black soot coats the earth as falling bombs in an airstrike wipe us out.
Fallen bodies cluttering broken streets, 1944, the soldiers march through a ****** fog. A city once full of life lay dead and covered in blood. Like graceful synchronized swimmers the soldiers compress the soot with the heels of their boots. The weight of the rifles grows heavier as the march goes on.

HALT!

Solidifying into solid lead. The blue sky whistles bombs like children whistling to lullaby's. One by one they melt into puddles. One by one the black  bombs shred us apart.
I was inspired by Pink Floyd,s The Wall
Time Feb 2019
Unexpected early morning,
It struck a town in Syria,
Rebel-held area turned into a toxic zone,
Shaking the entire government from its root.
85 people - 20 children-
                                          D   E   A   D
Some writhing,
Some C-h-o-k-i-n-g,
Some GASPING
             for  
                    air.

Sarin a deadly chemical gas pervaded the streets of Syria
Like grey clouds take over the blue sky.
Mouths inhaled the ethereal gas
As death grabbed a hold of their souls.
One boy was filmed suffocating on the ground,
His chest heaving like an ocean full of harsh waves,
His mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
Faces blue and yellow,
As their lungs cried for air.



The smell of death lingered in the streets
Dead children lined up in
R
O
W
S
on the floor,
Piled in heaps in the back of a vehicle,
Lying motionless in the mud,
Clothes ripped as rescuers tried to separate the chemical from their bodies
Imprisoned in the unpredictable terror of WAR!

Is this the result of a six year war?
Hours after the attack began,
Regime warplanes circled back over the area,
Purposefully dropping bombs on clinic treating survivors.
Death crushed the hope of many
Shutting the door to freedom
SMASH!

13 year old boy,
Drowned in the tsunami of grief,
As lonely as a dog without its master:
“Three of my family members died in front of my eyes.
I don’t even know it the rest are alive or not. ”
A horrendous scene for any human being,
Indeed an AFFRONT to humanity!
War stole the right for a 13 year old to feel loved, protected and precious.

Eyelids closed against the dim light of dawn,
As an airstrike hit their veranda,
Leaping from his bed with the hope of saving his family,
He hugged his nine month old twins tightly.
Handing the twins to his wife,
Yosuf went outside,
To see people staggering
And falling on to the ground like petals of a flower.
He came back to his house to see....
His brothers dead,
His nephew dead,
His niece dead,
His mother dead,
His wife dead,
His twins dead.
Yosuf was trapped in the cage of sorrow forever,
“My wife, Ahmed and Aya, my twins they were all martyred.
What was their fault?
My entire family is gone.”
Holding the dead bodies of the twins in each arm
Stroking their hair,
As their laughter echoed in his ears,
He choked back tears,
And mumbled goodbye.
A six year civil war stole the hope from hearts full of light,
Treaded over relationships full of love,
And strangled a life full of freedom.
If we were the people of god....
we wouldn't **** our neighbors....
if we were in the promised land....
blood wouldn't be shed....
if god indeed promised the land to all of us (Muslims, Jews and even crazy Christians)....
it might be that he wants us to coexist ....
instead of driving them away and pushing them to the sea....
if Moses was to open the waters again....
who would he guide to ....Eden.... but the destitute of today’s most normalized genocide?....
Those whose rocks are replied with bombs....
Those who we hate, and hate us back....
Those who make a great political slogan (on both sides) even if one side is more ****** than the other.....

Those who we call terrorists as we bravely launch missiles in to their elementary schools....
Because we ought to defend ourselves since we are the people of god....
...But we probably already killed Him on an airstrike.....
Ray Suarez Oct 2015
He was a guy afraid of not fitting in
His hair was perfect
Smooth skin on his face
Had the current style down
Eyes bright. Still living.
One day he asked me
"Man Ray, how do you do it? You make it look so easy."
"Make what look easy?"
"Everything."
I looked down at my filthy
Brown leather shoes
And there was a hole in my pants
And I needed a haircut a month ago
And my face was battered
Like an airstrike on the moon's soil
I felt my chest still inflating, deflating
But couldn't decide whether it meant
Living or dying
I realized then that I hadn't really
Been afraid of anything
Since I defeated loneliness
Years ago
I smirked at that thought
Then said to him
"**** man, I don't know. I guess I just don't care about much."
He shook his head
And I walked away
With my shoulders high
And my chest out
I felt 10 times my size
They can keep the politics, wars, television, fashion,skin products,shiny cars,cell phones,restaurants,new shoes,false love, dead music
I went home
Opened a beer
Picked up Voltaire
And got away
From all that
Mess

— The End —