4 thoughts on “Slam it…”

  1. A Denial

    On Schnittke’s gravestone,
    a fermata above a whole rest above fff –
    a sustained silence played
    loud as possible.


    1. 8 April 1994
    Nirvana had been over
    three days. Kurt Cobain
    chose a shotgun.
    He didn’t want more life than Hendrix
    or the rest.
    The Akegala River
    flowed from a forest
    of machetes, knives, and sticks.
    2. The Opposite
    What is as miraculous as mist?
    A trillion droplets
    floating in array.
    The lightest touch
    should cause it to collapse,
    a trillion shattered bells.
    Sudan is dry.
    Slavery, then genocide.
    3. General Dellaire
    Most of his peacekeepers having been recalled,
    he listened to the Tutsi’s names,
    addresses, and license plate numbers
    on Radio Machete,
    and asked his superiors
    to jam the station.
    But they couldn’t, because it would cost
    thousands of dollars an hour.

  2. In memory of Fabrizio Quattrocchi, a man who refused to let his death play to his killers’ script. Bad attempt at terza rima, probably worse sentimentality.
    To lie in a room, a dark room
    A room as quiet as the Death
    That patiently awaits your doom
    As you try to ration every breath
    Avoiding thoughts that the next one
    Might be the last gasp you have left –
    For you know how these things are done.
    They need to prove that they will kill
    (and helpless foes are just more fun)
    So you will only live until
    They can convince their hands to stab,
    Their consciences to become still.
    So you lay there, on your cold slab.
    Had your soul cracked from the strain
    Made by despair both cold and drab
    I would have done naught but refrain
    From criticism of your choice;
    I have not lain where you have lain.
    Defiance, though, was in your voice,
    Not despair, you were never lost;
    It is not for us to rejoice
    At your courage, at such a cost,
    Your life beyond my hope to save –
    But Death Himself I would accost
    ‘Til good report I heard him gave
    Of your valor against fear’s gloom,
    Your refusal to be its slave.

  3. The Prison of my mind
    Is a curious place;
    It’s located behind
    The facade of my face.
    It’s a world that’s so vast
    And so colourful too,
    Where my dreams always last;
    Where I always win through.
    But although I can’t fail,
    I am still in no doubt
    That my mind is a jail
    And I cannot get out.
    Master Talent’s the Bard
    Mister Hope tries to free;
    Monsieur Shyness the Guard,
    Lady Luck is the key.

  4. Today I remember a place
    Frozen in space and time
    Horrors of body and mind
    Perpetrated upon one people
    Pain and death do not bring relief
    Time chases few memories away from the living
    For all these things return unless worked out
    Suffering breeds suffering
    Hate breeds hate
    Yet hate also breeds love
    When man lives to his fullest
    We will not need to remember so often
    Instead we will glory in that which is ours:
    Compassion
    Love
    Understanding
    That day shall arrive and true freedom will at last be ours.
    (A day early tribute to the holocaust survivors and victims)

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