The Military Industrial Complex’s CPAs Never Sleep
We so seldom bury people at sea
in weighted shrouds,
preferring instead sealed
containers or ashes
mixed with concrete.
Little girls skip
down the street,
giggling, unaware of their
value on the open
market. Dollars, oil.
Weapons. All fungible.
On the forgotten shelf,
the avocado’s flesh
blackens inside
its withering armor.
How is too much
never enough?
Targets based on
possibilities, innuendo,
cost-benefit analysis:
three men and a camel,
wedding parties,
hospitals, homes.
When morning comes,
they’re still awake,
collating damage, counting
opportunities, massaging
sums, ignoring cost,
harvesting their dead fruit.
O at the Edges 
Excellent poem! Very true!!
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Thank you, Dwight.
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Ugh, I’ll save myself the add-on rant because your poem did a fine job to make the point. This is a much needed addition to the poetry of our times.
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I’m sickened by the jingoism and false patriotism so prevalent today.
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Ditto… I also get tired of privacy vs security propaganda, two party politics, and not being able to watch real news on major media networks 😦
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Ditto!
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Curious about the colored b&w photo … source? timing?
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I found it on morguefile.com, which is the source of most of the photos I post.
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A very effective visual for your potent message!
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I ran a search for “military,” and this one popped up. I couldn’t resist it.
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Powerful words – evocative.
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Thanks, V.J.
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Powerful, Robert! Thanks for addressing this pressing issue. Our world needs more poetry of this kind.
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Thank you, Rosaliene. This one popped out a few months ago.
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Very good poem, and thanks for reminding me that I have two avocados that need to go in the fridge. That street value line is going to stay with me.
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Glad to assist with the avocados! And thank you.
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Excellent and important piece, Robert. The last stanza just took my breath away.
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Thank you, Tanya. I’ve grown so weary of these senseless killings in the name of “security.”
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Agreed wholeheartedly…
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Powerful, pointed and very, very true. Plus, this is a fine poem.
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Thank you, George.
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“Little girls skip down the street, giggling, unaware of their value on the open market…”
god that line just kills my heart. It reminds me of a moment in Hanoi as I was walking down a super crowded Old Quarter street in the evening. Boiling hot and humid, but the evening sun painted everything with a wonderful burnt umber and crimson glow. Everything happens on sidewalks there, so it was nearly impossible to walk through the crowds of people sitting at little sidewalk or street tables without basically walking in and among cars and motorcycles… a wild happy jumble of food, conversation, and honking. Weaving in and out of this chaos were little kids: playing, laughing, and chasing each other in and out of the street! Really young kids easily navigating the various dangers of omni-directional traffic – almost unconsciously… lambs playing among metal jaguars.
I remember a particular bunch of little girls running around giggling in all of this… and just stood there watching them yelling and laughing in Vietnamese. The pure joy and total lack of knowledge of the things that you write about in this poem…little laughing girls… laughing and skipping as I wandered away knowing what awaits them in the world… moral weltschmerz washing over me…the melancholy… one can smile and weep at the same time…もののあはれ…
Powerful stuff, Okaji Sensei!!!
Deep.
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When we treat lives as commodities or profit centers, we lose our humanity.
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Life can ONLY be a commodity in unchecked economic engines. It is the nature of ‘the number’ to be erasure when applied to lives. The beautiful language of math becomes purified death when what giggles matter not.
If corporate statistics could fart we would not lose ourselves to their seduction. 🙂
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Ah, the bouquet of corporate stats!
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Even your righteous anger is elegant. I appreciate not only what you say but also how you say it. Thank you.
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Thank you, Craig. I am not an angry person by nature, but these things wear on me.
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Wonderful comparisons between avocados blackening in their armour and overkill weapons. And while everyone was on holiday, £130bn was sneaked through on Trident replacement this Summer.
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Yet governments frown upon supporting people…
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Poignant and ever-relevant.. Such a grim establishment.
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Thank you. It is grim, indeed.
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This is so meaningful..
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Thank you, Z.
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Really thought provoking and sadly true.
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Thanks, Cheryl. Unfortunately we don’t need to make up these tales.
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I’m not sure “like” is the best option here, Robert. This poem is painfully brilliant. It puts words to my sadness.
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Thanks, Nadia. These sadnesses have been with me a lot, lately.
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I’ve noticed the color palette of your poetry has shifted a bit, Robert.
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It shifts and blurs, comes and goes.
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Sounds like the seed of another poem.
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Now that you mention it… Maybe I should hire you to point out these moments. 🙂
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I would gladly do it for free, Robert. Anything that contributes to your writing poetry is worthwhile.
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🙂
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Whoa. Wow.
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Thank you, Jeni.
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Beautiful poem – needed in our times!
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Thank you, Fritz. These issues are bothering me more and more.
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Yes! Wonderful and well put. And so on point.
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Thank you!
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Love your minimalism and directness, and thanks for checking my stuff out too mate.
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Thanks very much. I hope to read more of yours soon.
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Thank you as well Robert. I haven’t been posting for ages, but I remember that I like your work. If you ever feel like a random collaboration on a creative project let me know.
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Will do. Thank you.
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Such an intelligent poem. =)
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Thank you, D. I’ll never understand how our leaders have come to take lives so readily, so easily. Very seldom is it a matter of kill or be killed. And the falsehoods that pass for patriotism. Arghh!
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For power, anything in the power of anything nameable.
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Oh, yes. Sadly.
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