Enough Of This Ongoing War, I Will Write Something Obscene Poem by RIC BASTASA

i am tired of the ongoing war,
red alert on this district, and no classes today and curfew hours implemented
strictly and check points,
i hope there is no hand grenade hidden in your car
or some ingredients of an explosive
no joke
you will be arrested and you cannot take your flight to Kuwait

let us not about war,
let us talk about love, silly, let us talk about sex, obscene sex,
salivary sex,

do you remember the sound of the squeaking bed?
do you hear the bed bug letting its last juicy cry because both of you
are too heavy
pressing its body
against that piece of steel
flesh to flesh like steel, yes too rough and strong and rigid,

i like to remember these things, the sounds of the moans, and the
sliding hands and firm breasts and the magical sound of the

ejaculation of out intellects in bed as we study Kant and
Sartre and Marx (have fear) and Mao (we were arrested,
do you remember at the university?)

you are bragging, you are a fake revolutionary, you were hiding while the rest of them were tortured and
yes, some of them were not even buried on decent graves


this is obscene. You are taking about something that did not happen
to you. It happened to them
and they are dead and they are your brothers
you did not visit them in their prison camps
you were watching the latest movie in that rubbish city
while they all carried their guns in the mountains
and crossed the rivers without food and water
and without their hopes of a new home

indeed, this is obscene. now stop it.

start with the white thighs again. now.please.