Paul Warner

B-Cinquante - Deux - Poem by Paul Warner

Here they come to bomb my carpet!
I knew I should have deloused with anti- gook spray,
But I don't have the time.
Now they're here again!

I wouldn't mind but they take all the colour
out of my thick pile, and the images of the temples,
Look jaded even more, combined with a whiff of mourning napalm.

These high flying birds bombed for breakfast,
Lunch, dinner, supper, dessert, and even as a snack!
The border is fraying badly, like a poorly sewed
Patchwork quilt. All to eradicate unwanted guests
From settling into my woven plaid paddies of rice design.

What good had it done? The Kinda Rouge applaud, as the rural carpet dwellers run to them to stop this unweaving of their tightly woven world.

Eventually emptied the BUFFS retire to another future cause, but the imbalances in my carpet remain.

A new Kinda Rouge has arisen, and is moving my pile base around the floor.
Infected with Maoism, this new inhabitant wants to create
Half a century of the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution instantly.
All rolled into one in my shag pile!

When will it end!
Maybe I'll just remove the bad dream,
And lay a parquet floor instead!
It was once French Indochina after all!

Topic(s) of this poem: philosophy

Poet's Notes about The Poem

I am an English teacher in Cambodia and the idea came from the American carpet bombing illegally of the Cambodian border with Vietnam to try to stop the Vietcong moving southward. They dropped more explosives on Cambodia than were dropped in the whole of WW11! This allowed Pol Pot and his Kmer Rouge to convert the rural Khmer to them. I think you know the rest.BUFFS is what the US military called B52s
Big Ugly Flying Fuckers,

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, August 3, 2014

Poem Edited: Friday, August 8, 2014

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