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100 Poets Against the War by Todd Swift

By Todd Swift

The main talked-about and profitable booklet of contemporary years is released right here for the 1st time in paperback. "100 Poets opposed to The War," a trilogy of downloadable digital chapbooks used to be first released on-line on January 27, 2003 and has given that made world-wide information from the "LA instances" to the Moscow dailies. This publication holds the list for the quickest poetry anthology ever assembled and disseminated; first deliberate on January 20, 2003 and released during this shape on March three, 2003. The grass-roots charm of peace poetry has noticeable this e-book shared via tens of millions, and browse at peace demonstrations from Seattle to the center East. It has spawned French, German and Brazilian types, and maintains to motivate those that oppose a unilateral, US-led strike opposed to the folks of Iraq. It marks a second within the heritage of resistance to warfare.

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Such rhetoric that deafens us to slaughter blinds us to our quickly approaching end. For we have already entered A PERIOD OF MASS EXTINCTION not seen since the age of the dinosaurs. ’ 49 48 100 poets against the war 100 poets against the war the killing fields A dark little psalm against war Di Brandt John B Lee but don’t we all dear Em doesn’t everyone have cut off hands gripping knives in their too big heads aren’t we all blood crazy thirsty in our midnight selves to avenge the curdled mother’s milk rotted on our parched cracked tongues convinced the death of the little princes & princesses in the baby tower & the enemy their king will release us from her untimely abandonment like the Pharaoh like Herod like Hitler like Bush is this a dagger divine Will Shakespear said giving the words to regal Lady MacBeth I see before me handle toward my hand come let me clutch thee we must be able he taught us to imagine at least this much darkness in us & then & then Em then to wrestle down the spirits who would delude us into attacking the living breathing world turning to face the hot fanged wolves that haunt us who if we’re brave enough would rather play & full leafed trees dancing toward us & the frozen child huddled asleep deep in her forest bed shivering in slow thaw as we remember ourselves her father her mother & the enemy our sister brother “poem written after seeing a documentary on the rise and fall of Hitler” lost between fear and the fairgrounds to the cult of fire and the idolatry of death these skull-browed men in red and black bowing to accept bouquets from bare-legged little flower girls blowing almost away in thin summer dresses or patting the forehead fidelity of dogs their own fuhrer in final scorched repose his uniform coat his pair of pyjamas a burned body in a bomb crater in April in Berlin bearing the tight-boned grin of eternity with sixty-million souls for company, remembering those sentimental interludes that poisonously sweet tea-cake ambrosia tasting of the smoke of burning flesh and the ash-drift confection like a Christmas evening snowfall oh, the wrong gods are in the mountains above the overcast or riding a red river of crushed roses when weeping and harp-willowed is the world it dashes our children on stones.

D. who sweeps my office floor. Against the war I’ll laugh at Bush’s foot-in-mouth, make love in the afternoon, send clothes to St. Vincent de Paul, learn to spell Qur’an, phone up my daughter, light a birch fire and turn off the furnace, shovel the walk for the mailman, clean up after our old cat, leave the door unlocked. Against the war I’ll act today, as I can, for peace. S. ] about its weapons of mass destruction. ” – from The New York Times, 23 January 2003 We’ve got to Um, Protect families children Weapons mass destruction Yeah, that’s it, A war fought from An SUV.

Then we talked, looking straight ahead, the road like a blackboard, one chalk line down the middle. She said, nah, she didn’t need a break, she was good to the end. Eighteen hours back to home when she was done, though. Fayetteville, North Carolina, a long ways from here. The math of a mileage marker glowed green. Was Niagara Falls near Buffalo? She’d like to take her little girl some day, too little now, won’t remember. The driver speaks her daughter’s name, and the syllables ring like bells. I say I lived in her town once, after another war.

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