We!
The children are reduced to bones
And skin. Their tiny bodies
Have heads appearing far too large
And eyes that cry for help.
But there’s no shortage yet of guns
And bullets — or of bombs.
And soon enough, you hear them come —
The jets that scream through skies
And drop the rain that’s so obscene
That voices then fall still.
******
The drones that fly like sightless birds,
The tanks that roll through streets,
The men who fire on passers by,
Who buys and pays these?
We!
******
The men who shout out, “Allah!”
And the ones who wear the star,
Alike are paid from coffers deep,
Yes, deep enough for war.
For all of this takes money, money,
All of this needs wealth.
And some may bomb with IED’s
While others bomb with Stealth,
But those who have the money, money,
Sit and pull the strings,
As puppets wage the battles fierce,
While entertainer sings.
******
And whence came all this money, money,
Whence came all this wealth?
And who has worked to wealth create,
While risking precious health?
Who is it, who buys the stuff?
Who fills the tank with gas?
Who labors every day and yet
Has not enough of cash?
Who gazes at the check and sees
Deductions that are large?
Who tries to pay the rent or bank
And does that wealth enlarge?
Who pays for wars that have no end,
By financing the banks?
Who dies in foreign lands in vain,
From having joined the ranks?
Who votes for those who send to die
The men and women still?
Who does not vote — and so promotes
The ones who wreak what’s ill?
******
The children are reduced to bones
And skin. Their tiny bodies
Have heads appearing far too large
And eyes that cry for help.
But there’s no shortage yet of guns
And bullets — or of bombs.
And soon enough, you hear them come —
The jets that scream through skies
And drop their rain that’s so obscene
That voices then fall still.
The drones that fly like sightless birds,
The tanks that roll through streets,
The men who fire on passers by,
Who buys and pays these?
We!
Babui / Arjun
2012 January 28th, Sat.
Brooklyn
