"diplomats" poems
*Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall
I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”
Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."*
- Matthew the Apostle
I
Seventy-seven bottles of gin
lie in the guts of sensuous men;
seventy-seven I forgive you's dissolve
in a fanatical mind's resolve.
II
What offence occurred under Saint Constantine's priggish eye?
Was it specious as a Samian's thigh?
Or Sumerians receiving alien diplomats?
Maybe somewhere far under Moscow Putin's massing cloning vats...
III
Whatever discursive and belligerent milieu
church authority finds most tried and true
seems to be the most important decider
in the future of things like the Large Hadron Collider.
Perhaps, unfoundedly, they find it funny that Higgs
(though it seems much like calling the Liberal Party "Whigs")
is a name shared by a man and a theoretical particle
(though it be libelous in any journalist's article),
and thus label similar advancements as "blasphemous".
I guess that this is what it is: believing just because.
IV
Who can know blasphemy from piousness?
Maybe all Luther did was obfuscate a prior mess.
V
Seventy-seven palm-branch-adorned, donkey-riding kings:
an automatic-ring-making-machine beleaguering proselyte rings.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 1:40 AM UTC
Teen model Shonali Khatun strutted the catwalk as the audience cheered at a fashion show in Bangladesh's capital.
But Shonali is no ordinary model, and this was no ordinary show.
She and the 14 other models are survivors of acid attacks, common in this south Asian country, where spurned lovers or disgruntled family members sometimes resort to hurling skin-burning acid at their victims.
The fashion show, held Tuesday night in Dhaka and attended by fashion lovers, rights activists and diplomats including the US ambassador to Bangladesh, aimed to redefine the notion of beauty while calling attention to the menace of such attacks.
For 14-year-old Shonali, the event was nothing short of empowering. She was attacked just days after she was born amid a property dispute involving her parents, and was left with burn scars on her face and arms. She spent nearly three years in a hospital and underwent eight operations. Her attacker has never been caught.
"I am so happy to be here," she said. "One day I want to be a physician."
The models, including three men, walked the catwalk, dancing and singing and showcasing woven handloom Bangladeshi designs. The show was choreographed by local designer Bibi Russel.
Organisers said they hoped to highlight the fact that acid victims, too often overlooked, are a vital part of society. They deliberately chose to hold the event on the eve of International Women's Day.
"We are here today to show their inner strength, as they have come a long way," said Farah Kabir, country director of ActionAid Bangladesh, which organised the show. "I often take inspiration from them. Their courage is huge."
Bangladesh has struggled to deal with acid attacks in recent decades, and has instituted harsh punishments for the perpetrators, including the death penalty. The country has also trained doctors to treat such sensitive cases and attempted to control the sale of acid, but has failed to eliminate the scourge entirely.
In 2016, some 44 people were attacked with acid in Bangladesh - an annual number that has remained relatively stable.
"I am ashamed of having such things in the country," Kabir said. "Unfortunately, in Bangladesh we do have acid victims because of either gender discrimination or violence, or because of greed. And we want to remind everyone the kind of injustice that has been meted out to them."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
Lining up batteries of anti-aircraft anti-everything
all anti- something this and that
distribution centre for psychological pressure
backed by radio, TV presidents staring straight
newspapers, journals and dialogues around
flash round tables on the whys how’s and who’s
sneaky microphone hidden in flower pots,
long distance listening devices. Telephones tapped
wives tapped, senior diplomats and doormats tapped
wives tapped on shoulders
whispered to: watch out for Joe blogs he has a roving eye.
see me tonight, after dinner.
The russians have warship A into Zone B
the chinese have shifted anti-missile up
the mountains near tibet, near nepal
near taiwan, near the hormuz straits
into africa, zimbabwe, fiji, and northern china
who cares. Tomorrow they will shift out again.
the pressure is building in the ukraine, turkey is on fire
The north koreans have no power
as seen from satelllites
The president has run of tomato sauce so he has asked
for a shipload from us of a
ship it with some spies dressed as tomatoes
god its killing me
these acupuncture points
three more needles please!
Author Notes
Relentless. ( an wacky I s'pose). Think about it all.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?
Have you forgotten the Bill of Rights?
The 'inalienable' rights we all have?
Do they even ******* matter?
Do they even ******* exist?
I guess not.
What the **** are they doing
pressing this CISPA ********
Unlawful search and seizure of digital information
and they don't even care for warrants.
Under the guise of National Security
you'd have us all put in Camps or killed
just like we did to the Japanese all those years ago
but we've moved past that... right? Right?
I guess not.
We just keep it all more secretive now:
The people didn't stand for SOPA
and surely not for the NDAA
so what the **** gives you the idea
CISPA will fly, anyway?
Maybe if no one heard about it, it would work...
Maybe that's what you were counting on.
Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
along with your constituents.
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
and your endorsements.
The Fourth Amendment requires due process
precluding unjust search and seizure;
but where the **** is due process or justice
in this proposed search at leisure?
You pass new legislation that augments old laws,
so much that they don't even need probable cause,
but not new rights nor protections for the citizenry,
not surprising given your abhorrent deontology:
You'd sooner send drones than diplomats.
You'd sooner stage attacks than be peaceful.
You'd sooner bail out banks than your citizens.
You'd sooner pass a law than change your ******* underwear.
What the **** gives you an inkling of the notion
that a beloved sociopath Politician
deserves your ******* devotion
if they pull this sort of ethical rescission?
Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
along with your constituents.
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
and your endorsements.
**** me, Mr. Politician Man,
like you already do behind closed doors.
**** me, Mr. Politician Man
for ever trusting this accursed system.
Well, who the **** are you
trusted making legislation,
you can't even overcome
******* monetary gravitation.
Well, excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
you want the People to become transparent?
Well **** you then, Mr. Politician Man
we want transparency of Government:
I'm sick of not knowing where Tax dollars go,
I'm sick of knowing over a quarter goes to the Military
which is funny in a deeply ****** up way
because I know I may help pay for
the drone that might fly overhead and see me and my friends as insurgents
and launch an IR missile to blow us to bits,
or the bullet that may be sent through my brain
as a distant if more probable than ever result
of your ******* legislation:
And so I say:
**** you, Mr. Politician Man,
along with your constituents
for making this a feasibility;
you're supposed to serve the people
but you'd rather put the U.S. in a state of futility.
So,
on behalf of all those you alienate each day,
I wish to extend to you a humble and heartfelt
Go **** yourself.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
Listening to peculiar strangers gather in the eavestrough;
Coddling the malleable bloom of rooted trees
An immigrant to prosperity cradled by Mercutio.
-Our revels now are ended. These our actors.
Burnt sand swallows the lighthouse where the savage hang,
melancholy-tea and a pulp-fiction spread
dismal characters, behaving bourgeois
-Gather in the eavestrough
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 1:27 AM UTC
Almost like a mirror to
Look at you. A sort of Alice on the other side
Of the looking glass.
You are a reflection I never thought might exist.
But there are flaws spiderwebbing cracks into the glass,
The picture so minutely cracked here and
There that it might all just
Fall out of the frame.
Words, picked like highhanging fruit,
Stack and
Form the
Edges of your
Mind--
brilliant walls of Buckingham but also the boxes of fruit
(high hanging like the words) floating down congolese waters
and into the heart
--of Darkness? only kurtz knows
but does it matter? still Grand as ever--
They're words I see in myself on my side
And music from Mechanicsburg Anchorage Dar es Salaam
sings down the same Congo we share
But the only cracks I see are with me.
Your words and wit are the envoys,
Celebrated diplomats from the Heart that lies
downriver.
eyes flash and the Fruit is bountiful and
Hail the heart (wherever whatever it is down the River).
The words are strong as the man who sent them
(somewhere in the Heart)
Such strength to speak and shout
Respect commandeddemanded in the fruit
I often wonder if I have it.
And each time I know I don't
Another crack is born.
the tally man sends his beautiful fruit--
strong as everforever
To the world, smileonface and gleamineye--
and you're him
on the other side
at the Heart.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
for RFG
You told me of your love for London
and I, of mine for Jerusalem.
And we speak of our second homes
and our first loves,
and how those memories
should be left for the archaeologists,
and how we must for the time being
carefully avoid the subject
each of the other
like diplomats
in London or Jerusalem
busily seeking
positive signs,
in one and the other
or those things
we love elsewhere
and wish we could have
here at home.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 8:05 PM UTC
Bitter sweet,
headlines.
Filtered, censored,
cloaked in, invisible lies.
To keep our eyes,
blind.
Unaware of everything that's
crumbling,
beneath our minimum-wag,e
slave feet.
Systematically, we're made
to fall down
on our knees in defeat.
To **** the ****
of a hard ego.
& The beast, he's always near.
Hiding behind the faces of his diplomats.
Politicians are just criminals, who bought their way out of prison.
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 1:50 AM UTC
oOo opening
of a common ground
dialogue's playing field hosts
not only games for diplomats and mediators.
channel expanse of what i know you know i know i know
you know
you breathe with fibers woven at the birth of words
ooo mutual standing under rain and pointing at the same - no, the same over there.
consummation of lies released no longer held i tell you i lied i am ashamed and in love and free again.
O locution
of a private sky.
secrets working well contain
a single link entraining ignorance at war.
suppress, hold tight, forget,
forget,
forget forever toss remembrancers of loss
i grit against the tension, and tensest death of signs :):(:
o exclusive lay above the sun and grasping for unique - yes, the unique here.
tragedy of honesties imprisoned for all time, proud, from a first kiss setting hate in stone.
smoking at a newborn's crib, righteous bigotry
yet the voiceless innocence of child
goodness tender-eared and
never closed
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 6:32 PM UTC
Jackals and *********
Clowns and criminals;
Lies and libelous lambastes
With integrity minimal.
Grande Guignol politics
From pusillanimous politicians
Poisoning the populace
With only selfish ambitions.
Sleight of hand shysters
And self-appointed diplomats
Throw out all their morals
And set out the welcome mat
For those the most likely
To pay the highest bribe
And have no care if they sell
The land from under the tribe.
So what if water is poisoned?
As long as they make money.
After all, the rich aren’t harmed.
Now isn’t that incredibly funny?
Who cares about the future?
What matters is right now
And the profit they can make.
It is what the law will allow.
And those that wrote those laws
So cleverly and quietly confused
The very people stupid enough
To so gullibly to be thus used.
But jackals and *********
Really aren’t animals at all.
Nor are they household pets
Who come when they are called.
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 9:41 PM UTC
*The world shall fall as they fall
In their ruin, everything will follow
And so it ends
Bring in the seraphim
Tear the pure clouds, reveal the gods above
If doubt is a stronger virtue
Then I am its paragon
Women fall at lofty feet in a harem
Gorging on peasants' spines 'till faces turn mauve
Fear is the new moral breakthrough
A scale higher than the utmost echelon
The world shall destroy as they destroy
In their ruin, everything will follow
And so it ends.
The snake bite no longer stings
Calloused as a tyrant's compassion
The purest hands do grow relentless weeds
As they laze on the filthiest plots
Kings and hearts mount to slings
Foreboding most malleable deception
Blood spills bright on their letterheads
As truth gets set by red-handed bureaucrats
The world shall burn as they burn
In their ruin, everything will follow
And so it ends.
Marksmen are wealthier than diplomats
Golden bullets to the golden rule
The trend is to laugh at our silence
The principle is to break lives not dictates
There lies no purgatory for these aristocrats
On to the vile ember cesspool
Until then, they fawn in worldly omnipotence
And not one revolts, not even conscience
The world shall end as they end
In their sceptre,everything follows
And so it goes on.*
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 2:41 AM UTC
As far as wars go
It's a bit of a bore,
But we are at war.
Trade war tariffs:
Monetary missiles,
Cyber attackers:
Heat-seeking hackers.
Yes, hot wars are so passé.
Cold wars,
So-called Star Wars:
All in the past.
Silent battlers
Not sabre rattlers.
Keyboard warriors
No F15s nor Harriers.
Masters of Sanctions
Not Masters of War.
Expelling diplomats
And tit-for-tats.
It's a new World War,
But it's a bore,
So pay attention,
Don't get complacent,
The war drones on.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
I have spoken with emissaries from the embassies of hope who filled me with foreboding of what is to come,I have seen Diplomats run from the mountains of papers that climb up their backs.
In sacks full of Christmas the listless lay dying,babies unattended left hungry and crying and the peace pipe is smoked in the Olive groves of Turkey,while the radioactivity,the new age nativity is played out in church halls.
I see buildings arise as each old building falls and the dust spreads its memories through the thoughts I have walked through.
I see you dressed in Sepia with the sunlight behind you
I see you and no more now
I see you and this is how
I remember.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 2:31 AM UTC
People think that Brussels is an interesting city,
Full of beer, full of mussels and pommes frites
And easy to buy a really nice box of chocolates
(Personally I prefer the dark ******* as they are less sweet).
But there is another side to the city
Believe me, I know, I have been there
And I have seen it in all its shocking terror.
I was there, just off la Grand' Place (Grotemarkt in Flemish),
With my younger sister, a fat and ugly girl,
Who had a very pronounced lisp and a lot of oozing ****** spots,
When a gang of ill-dressed American youths,
Probably the sons of wealthy businessmen or diplomats,
Sky-high on coca-cola, or whatever vile filth,
Attacked us, mugged us, gave us a total bashing-up,
And we ran quite hard but could not escape from them.
And they left her lying there in the gutter,
Her legs broken to bits and her head half-chopped off,
And for what? They were envious of her false hairpiece
(as it made her look half-human, a major improvement).
She dragged out a miserable half-alive existence
For a few awful months in a dilapidated infirmary;
Dear God, she will not be going to Brussels again
In fact she will not be going anywhere at all,
Apart from into an early grave, that is.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 7:20 AM UTC
Part of Edna's "Barry Hodges' Sad Recollections" Sequence
People think that Brussels is an interesting city,
Full of beer, full of mussels and pommes frites
And easy to buy a really nice box of chocolates
(Personally I prefer the dark ******* as they are less sweet).
But there is another side to the city
Believe me, I know, I have been there
And I have seen it in all its shocking terror.
I was there, just off la Grand' Place (Grotemarkt in Flemish),
With my younger sister, a fat and ugly girl,
Who had a very pronounced lisp and a lot of oozing ****** spots,
When a gang of ill-dressed American youths,
Probably the sons of wealthy businessmen or diplomats,
Sky-high on coca-cola, or whatever vile filth,
Attacked us, mugged us, gave us a total bashing-up,
And we ran quite hard but could not escape from them.
And they left her lying there in the gutter,
Her legs broken to bits and her head half-chopped off,
And for what? They were envious of her false hairpiece
(as it made her look half-human, a major improvement).
She dragged out a miserable half-alive existence
For a few awful months in a dilapidated infirmary;
Dear God, she will not be going to Brussels again
In fact she will not be going anywhere at all,
Apart from into an early grave, that is.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 7:18 AM UTC
“If I could only paint,” the despondent poet said,
“If I could only paint, I would surely knock’em dead.
Like Rembrandt or Picasso, like Whistler or Van Gogh.
I’d open up a gallery, and everyone would see
The pictures that I’d painted and they would envy me!”
“If I could write a novel,” the painter empathized.
“If I could write a novel, then I’d have realized,
My dream to be like Hemingway, Faulkner or Thoreau.
I’d be in all the book stores, my books would be top shelf,
And I would finally know that I’d made something of myself.”
“If I could hit a baseball,” the author next agreed,
“If I could hit a baseball, I’d be in the major league.
I’d hit home runs like Willie Mays, and run like Shoeless Joe.
The fans would come to all the parks to see me lead the team,
The kids would want my autograph, and all the crowd would scream.”
“If I was smart,” the ballplayer said, “And studied law in school,”
“Then I could be the President, and I’d make all the rules.
I’d be as great as Washington, FDR, and Honest Abe.
I would meet with foreign diplomats, and help the world find peace,
All America would know my name; Play ‘Hail to the Chief’”
“If I could write a poem,” the President bowed his head,
“If I could write a poem, my ego would be fed.
I’d describe the beauty of a flower, and the winds that softly blow;
I’d keep my poems in a journal, let no one ever see,
And be content in knowing that I had done it just for me.”
pwl 3/7/03
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 1:03 AM UTC
' Tis I , Beelzebub ! Hanging me ***** to dry ! ******* my name on a rock , on all fours , cackling as the raven , giggling like a hyena ..Come to set on Randolph's shoulder briefly , take his pen if you will , consolidate his anger for the evening ! Curse his guarding Angel , just as I laid waste to Armenian soldiers , Chinese diplomats and American leaders ! Childhood rhymes , medicated prose , a coiled cobra disguised as a rose ! The warm memories and feelings from childhood , a confused toddler smacked , wetting his pants ! Your candy dropped from filthy little hands , scattered , riddled with fire ants ! I'm not the slingshot received for being a good boy ! Call me the rock that killed the songbird ! I'm every bad thought flashed before the hopeless insomniac , a capsized ship filled with goodness and light ! Your sarcastic muse , stopped by for a spell , to caste demonic thought across the wishing well !
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
The silence was sinister, as if, sound had lost its vocal chords,
the days arrived and sunsets painted the sky in crimson
and gold leaf ensembles of artists dreams.
While they sat around a table, document drivers ran around
pushing agendas, translating armageddon scenarios
if the other side raised a finger or pulled a trigger.
So the sulky diplomats sat like doormats where
the national feet were wiped upon and trust was invested
in their stupidity. Harvard education, pin-striped suits
with loud aggressive neckties announced their status
to TV crews and intrepid journalists, hanging on every word
like guillotines, to ravage the leading newspaper stories.
Headlines were deadlines. Diplomats drummed
up side angles for photographic faces to appear firm
and responsible to the taxman's money.
Here they gathered
with their policy whisperers awaiting for a signal
to open their loaded dialogues of positions and
policy shifts. Yet no one said a word.
The silence, for once, kept all the mouths shut
( one wished permanently!)
no one said a word for 3 long hours,
but they sipped chilled water, took notes of nothing
glared at each others sides and took notes
again of what was not said.
At the stoke of two, when the clock belted
a twang and the echo bounced through
many empty heads, the diplomats rose
to call it another day of negotiations.
The cold war had just had its 9th meeting.
Author Notes
The Revolution says little, but the war take sides. Diplomats are busy 'discussing' how to end the war, and find a solution. Their policy positions are so entrenched, that little happens. The silence is as loud as could be. Meanwhile, the guns boomed and little childrens playgrounds were pock-marked with cluster bombs. Lines of refugees, walked up the mountains seeking shelter in neighbouring towns. The cold war complemented the heat war that was raging on the battlefields of doom. Please stay indoors.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
A CAUTIOUS STORY HAS BEEN BROKEN
BY THE UNIMPEACHABLE WASHINGTON POST
PRESIDENT TRUMP ALLEGEDLY LEAKED CLASSIFIED INFORMATION
TO RUSSIAN DIPLOMATS ONLY WANTING TO BOAST
THIS NOW HAS BEEN QUOTED
TO BE WHAT WE KNOW AS FALSE NEWS
ALL THESE DIPLOMATS WERE DISCUSSING MILITARY ACTION
AND EXPRESSING ALL THEIR VIEWS
THIS FALSE NEWS IS ALWAYS UNSPOKEN
AND ALWAYS CREATES SUCH MAYHEM
WHEN ALL DIPLOMATS DISCUSS MILITARY ACTION
PRESIDENT TRUMP MUST ALWAYS LEAD THEM
May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 7:22 PM UTC
We did forget the peace…
It lays in dust, abandoned.
The drums of war don’t cease
The mind of world malfunctioned.
We have destroyed the peace,
The peace is trampled down,
The sanity is labelled “Vice”,
The hope in blood has drown.
We have betrayed the peace,
Replacing words with slogans,
Hysterics and war-cries increase,
As diplomats replaced with morons.
***
The peace is dying agonizing
Losing count of its endless sores
On hands of orphan sympathizing —
The crippled son of senseless wars.
— ☙ AlMakPoetry ❧—
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC
yosemite, yosemite!!! when the sirens go off with a bang, let the trumpets reighn an then comes the rein, ferror of beings, king collossal!!! so much fear the pain will preach, then the label attracts with a gov collapse time will cease, GOD will elapse from seize, soo seizure!!!!
**** the diplomats, **** that ***** ***** puffy, forget them fugees, throw it down no pun intended!!! indeed i might achieve heavy freight with heaven gates, bill gates an alabama!!! money on my mind gotta satellite in space widda heat sensor looking down, lazer beamin that’ll take over the world!!!
bodies, illuminatic sanctions, hobbies, gravel an paint make the women faint!!! cant compete so its my treat, welcome to the life of the great backin!!! super power, super human, making gravity electricfy… poppin these trycromes handeling dice folds, so much dough call me pinky, *** sticky!!!
i said it once, woman ill say it again, 15 billion cash ain it thats nothing… 5 miles deep where i keep, underground castle, let the flood gates go, flood zone, might miss, got a miss, dont miss!!! i hit an keep gettin, i get it at it more then benjamin, 1 count n out knock floyd may out…
super junction, my tugg goes tougher then the bible, count sheep so i sleep, wifey wait!!! i cant, im the man on these fields, in these pens with the many mens, henns, bitchs n bottles!!! i smoke that hood grip… i invented it, i am that bompton an martin king out here n furgy!!!
Z-Pac
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 6:33 PM UTC
I stay away from the cemetery at night for that is where he lives
I call him the Demon head, and he has horns of alabaster calcite
every time I visit my friend's grave, I always break out in hives
cuz he is always there shedding his horns, all through the night
I light my lantern and walk with a mask on in case he's hiding
bidding my time I smoke a cig or too, and wait for the daylight
he never comes around here, behind the aluminum siding
when dawn finally arrives, I am free from his kryptonite
Dancing pumpkins, roiling breath of cadavers and body rots
deadly snakes and big fat bats that fly into cracked empty pots
Demon head with all his rotting diplomats cannot shed fear
when it comes to the likes of him, well I stay clear.....
I stay away from cemeteries and Demon's with horns of calcite
cuz when they shed, the hives begin to itch with all their might.
Oct 12, 2021
Oct 12, 2021 at 12:01 AM UTC
in the land of healthcare and
a flag oddly similar to puerto rico
there have been attacks, sly
maneuvers near the embassy.
sonic sounds blasting the ears
of diplomats; eardrums shattering
like walls under the force of cranes;
such drama! an attack so subtle
one could not accuse an island of
it, as it can't even be seen.
but, it might just be crickets,
such drama, such disappointment.
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 10:51 PM UTC
Brutal Not Comfort
The soldiers of Nippon descended upon Asia in a vast horde of death.
Fighting anyone who dared oppose them, killing their enemies without mercy. Destroying everything from isolated houses to entire cities.
Decades of looking inwards bred an evil military dictatorship.
Only two atom bombs changed that.
But a story remains untold.
Hidden by silence and silenced by death.
Imperial Japanese Army soldiers didn't just fight and **** they ***** as-well. '
Comfort Women' stolen from Asia.
'Liberated' from Korea, the Philippines, China and elsewhere.
*** slaves shown no mercy by their unfeeling enemy.
****** violence of the worst kind.
Hundreds of thousands of women were ***** beaten, abused, tortured, made infertile and murdered at 'comfort stations.'
The Emperor's soldiers taking fully liberty with no reluctance.
Nearly seventy years after Japanese unconditional surrender, no apology has been given.
Opposite the Japanese embassy in Seoul stands a statue.
Not of a soldier or tank but of a woman.
People dress her whatever the weather and demonstrate there for an apology.
She is a reminder and a memorial to women affected by the **** of war.
In the private recesses of their minds, what do the Japanese diplomats feel?
Tension remains at the highest level, almost outliving that lost generation.
In South Korea only a few still live.
Tell this story to students of history.
Put it next to the Holocaust and area bombing raids so this never happens again.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 2:40 PM UTC