michael hanthala

Ducle Et Decorum Est Iii & A Taste Of Armageddon - Poem by michael hanthala

Dulce Et Decorum Est III & A Taste of Armageddon
(or the empire has no clothes but a disposition matrix)

In due homage to Horace, Owen and Mikhail i humbly nod
for how sweet & glorious it must be to kill or die for God & country by pompous duty with dishonor
so c'mon kiddies, any up for good jingo sport?
who's hungry & poor, who wants to play the hubris 'anything for profit' killing game?

As effusively embedded newspapers rah rah their pied pier patriotism with journalistic integrity & objectivity ha ha!
as a new battle lies just around the corner & armed forces day just weeks away hooray!
rally loyal citizens to whitewash warm innocuous blood off disgraced musket & sullied polluted flag
strike up the marching parade manifested by destiny down main street usa hey hey!

Awaken & open thine eyes chauvinistic folk, come & see your overseas deeds of nefarious brutality
given that your liable for this appalling tax-paid violence you've exported to hamlets & villages on human beings
assaulting families who've never did you any harm in lands you've never heard of, nor care less for
so step on up, one & all, for everyone here is accountable & responsible for this odious debacle

Take a trip to the overflowing morgues filled with small smashed bodies, once were toddlers full of laughter & life
deeply inhale the rancid stench of scorched flesh crispy burnt to a black bubbly mass by phosphorus
gaze into doll dead eyes frozen forever by shock & awe renditioned via your God blessed terror raining down
from atop a cold gurney a stiff finger of a tiny hand amidst a pile of mangled flesh is pointing at you war supporters

Watch as grief-stricken fathers zombie-wander in shattered silence
sifting through ragged debris & devastating destruction searching for lost sons & missing daughters
discovering ripped wet mangled body parts strewn out as pieces of a human jig-saw puzzle
taking home the ear, the hand, the foot to be quietly buried while 6000 miles away 'heroes' giggle & dub this 'bugsplat'

Harken to the heart-piercing shrieks as soul-torn asunder mothers wail like howling wild animals
as they find their loves buried, broken & bloody in the rubble of your glorious works
then if you can, please explain to the unresponsive moaning neonatal orphan
why your armed forces just murdered his parents...by accident, then wave a condolence payment in his face

Celebrate as your special op-forces silently & quickly dig our bullets from civilian bodies
to cover their tracks from being at the wrong address...again
declare as a holiday murdered women at a bridal shower or when 4 kids are droned to smithereens while tending sheep
rejoice in exported evil exploits as great american victories for which your war crimes always are

Trust flim-flam, the PR propaganda spin from your MSM complicit mouthpiece
praise your taxes which finances anglo-terrorism through illegal & immoral aggressive violence
raise your false flag ever higher to cover the rising pile where the butchered lie
however dear good christian citizens, do not trust that any civic rag could ever soar over the sick slaying of the innocent

Consider Fallujha surrounded & caged, then the cowering cringing unarmed civilian inhabitants
shot, burned & barbequed like slaughtered sitting ducks in a ‘free-fire zone' shooting gallery
ponder upon your sanctimonious attack at a school in Bajour where 69 children are massacred by joystick
this is Sand Creek, Wounded Knee, My Lai, Haditha, & other mass-media contorted & distorted great triumphs
which to no doubt in my mind, the next war crime called a ‘battle' will be anointed too, of course, ta! ta!

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, January 30, 2013

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