There were bombs exploding in Iraq
Babies turning blue in the immovable quash of rubble
A government twisting truths into the most
Outrageous kinds of lies
The end-game justifying the means
But no one would believe
The long years of children left behind a hoax
Come to fruition, dusty books that no one
Reads, impossible to distinguish the text from the
Con
Old words make sweet bonfires
The world spinning in a drunken haze
All a blur of light and sound and colorized
Image
The patient on his etherized table his
Hamburger heart pumping beer and blue-eyed
Bimbos into the vain artery of his
American unconscious
O, we may wonder, and O
We may die
Sleep the good sleep
Someday maybe
Someone will wake up, alone to find
And ask the inevitable question
A hundred years too late
Why?
Why didn’t anyone try to stop
The madness?
(Previously published in The Hold, Oct. '04)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
why didnt anyone try to stop the madness? we can still try, can we? this question always confronts humans in the face of evil. is evil winning by the good even becoming evil in the long run? interesting poem indeed.