Originally posted 1/4/2012.

Bees dying, trees
dying, tundra melting, oceans
filling, skies falling;
no one’s yet saying

war,
war,
war.

Pockets broken open, children
made ignorant by choice, homes
emptying while we sing of sex and shallow water,
never of truth, never of pain, most of all never of 

war,
war,
war.

They’ve made up a war to hide real war. 
In the face of it we do our best
to laugh like mad, surf the dead waves,
devil our care in the teeth of 

war,
war,
war.

A little sleight of hand,
a lot of sleight of tongue and our good sense
disappears into the creamy light from object thighs
till we forget there’s  

war,
war, 
war.

Targets have been painted
on the skins of others.
Can you see the red sniper dot
fixed upon on your own?

Look down at your feet —
you stand upon the stairs to the chopping block.
Can you admit at last that you can smell the bloody air?  
Will you at last call this what it is — 

war, 
war, 
war?