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July 25, 1994
strip the poem to the bare essentials
throw it into the garbage
flush it into the toilet
then go find it in the sewers
as a piece of life rejected
unwanted as a newborn cry
that sits on excrement
eaten by swarming flies
make the poem the forgotten
the throw away society
the unnecessary surplus
the exploited no longer of use
make the poem those who appear
dying split second on the screen
before you flip the dial
before the stench of death reaches the nostrils
before you might discover what life for some
for too many is all about
make the poem before sinking the teeth
in that blood stained hamburger
that could be ground meat from starving corpses
before you can say this is the taste of death
& spit it out
make the poem cruel
as the message from well fed politicians
make the poem tearing limbs to shreds
in the name of democracy
to protect ruling delinquent interests
to increase wealth of the few
to increase stupidity of others
who wrap yellow ribbons on trees
glorifying fighting heroes on TV news
conquering dismembered women & children
make the poem mercilessly brutal
as the dictators we prop on fake stages
ordering executions of innocent people
as firing squads hunt freedom guerillas
as raining bombs drop over defenseless populations
make the poem your assassinated forgotten lover
make the poem the junkies’ perforated bodies
make the poem the AIDS skeleton’s remains
make the poem without sentimentality
as you turn a calendar page
to a new day that never will come
make the poem without saying I --- I --- I in every line
as if you were the only one that mattered
in this shrunken planet
make the poem looking at the earth from a star
as the famished nursing bitch howls back at the moon
make the poem discord in bitter notes
puncturing deaf eardrums with pain
make the poem cut decisively
the way the butcher slices meat
razor sharp with sound of falling flesh
make the poem ripe with bile
for the skin you hate then swallow its venom
make the poem on the airwaves viciously racist
mixed with intellectual educated innuendos
then contemplate that one day a bullet
might split your skull wide open in retaliation
make the poem when you take a shit reading the daily paper
make the poem suffering without pity
in the continuous living hell with no ending
then again you could make the poem
that spring is a perhaps
& if you wish upon a star
makes no difference who you are
if you are rich & have power & control
in the destiny of
O say can you see
America
It’s a war poem
to the wretched of this land
to the poor to the defenseless oppressed
your poem is a contract on the life of the people
America
make the poem
& fuck it
Aldo Tambellini
© Copyright 1994
Aldo Tambellini
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