John Violence Poem by Mason Maestro

On a see-saw in a strange land
The Serbian sat on the Cardinal’s hand
The separatists called to the stand
On a back seat in the Hague courtroom
The Catholic Croat and Muslim Bosniak testify
Until they came down with a new broom
And swept them clean
And the fiddlers played

On the open road from Zagreb
When secessions strike the mote
When a clearing sky saves an old boat
A pick up band plays a new tune
When a new song hits under the moon
When the Slavic girl sings
When the plucks of the Šargija strings
The sounds escape a broken Yugoslavia

Like Sarajevo
Like Herzegovina
Like John Violence
They’d be the last ones to lay down their guns
Just out of sight from the siege
Milosevic hangs
Beyond the next range
A flickering flame of the ethnic cleanse

The place where the dark side meets John Violence in me
John Violence in me
When the Tribunals pause in a quest for applause
When ego lets go of the end of the bone
Rape and genocide clears the zone
To focus instead on the heart of the land
Then we shall be free
We shall be free