Written Poetry by Marcellus Nealy

Capitol fiction

thought stewed
social brews
plans upon the hill
secrets keep
in smugness
snug dumbness
statistical data
acceptable limits
of collateral loss
and sacrifice
between ham and cheese
chuckling bread crumbed
crumpled double chins
the motion of our fate
begins.

blistering
sun
on
65th
and
scoville
rancid
foam of
chicken bones
thrown
against the backdrop
of
a
long lost
tribe
high
on depressants
zombiefied
slow to dust
adrift in
brick
steel
color coded
cell blocks.
“help me
get
the
hell
out
of here!
somebody, anybody!”

“what we need is
a negligible resource
eager disenfranchised
desperate in their decay and starving.
line them up to the shave,
then stand them under the banner
symbol spangled star
for us to control.
they will be
the hands that hold
the bayonet,
the bullets
the bow,
they will be
the bludgeoning fist
the deadly blow
the feet that crunch upon the bones
the bringers of our gold.”

setting ball
beloved flame
across the amber sea,
five times a day
they call to he who is
protector of the land
amir
drove fuzzy diced
through dust
and danced
to broken beats
and foreign well-wishers
in dining room
suburban oasis
he will never be near
whistling strippers
searing loam
frightening speed
to noncombatants
exchanging vows
veiled reflection
pristine gowns
a vision he would see
but never foresaw
as he practiced
his western
movie star guffaw

on scoville
the illhill gangsters
were making moves
the hood
as it was understood
was their place
their square
desolate
block of land
brick city outlaws
proud in stupidity
defiant against their place
low society
impropriety for them
was outdated shoes
ill moded gear
and punk bitches
who they freely bent
over the table of fate
to blast
unlubricated
non lugubrious
and ever unmerciful
in the ass.

shuffle in the ruffle
the war room was ready to lay its plan,
iron lads to show their holy
pristine white clean
to the network legions
monsoons of mogul minions
the word was terror
terror
terror
and plenty of it
anywhere the hour could strike
nowhere in all of the rolling hills
and plains of america will we be safe
orange!?
hell!
fiery red!
top level alert
sound the alarm
give them reason to fear,
give them reason to run,
edge of panic
stacked with a random act of utter defile
on the ever green
squeaky clean
heart of our great land.
acceptable losses
for progress
the new manifest
calling us to our foothold
and forever
freeing our lips
from the backsides
of oil slick slicksters
tricksters to whom we sold
part of america’s soul

amir was getting on in years
and always thinking
about california
about being a real action arnold
sweeping women in spastic swoons brad
blade wielding weapon of destruction wesley.
california
where one-line-locks are keyed
by suave cool dudes
and blond bosomed jewels
who giggle out wishes
and lascivious whims
California
Where the pop plush opulence
Of song would suckle his ears
“amir, amir”
Away the nights in fine attire,
along the dusty dessert
unpaved portent of road
he rolled in far off states of mind
where sand was the setting for sunset cocktails
and khimars were a television show.

yo man!
i needs to get out of here.
cain’t take this shit no more.
slanging rocks is all we do,
ambition is lost to the wayside
with folks glocking folks
and getting lips for pipe hits.
i did this shit for the loot yo,
to feed my fams yo,
break from the roach motel,
you know what I’m sayin
a brother’s got to do what he can
but check it,
i cain’t be up in this mug
thugging for the rest of my life, dog.
i gots to get some skills,
get me a education,
maybe go to college,
rub elbows with the man
up in one of them plush offices
sippin on cognac and shit
grabbin some blond bitch secretary’s ass.
i needs me a house
i can buy with legitimate ends,
have some kids and a dog,
barbeques on the lawn.
yo man, check it,
mikey dead,
ruff rider dead,
money g dead,
skillet dead,
big ben dead,
damn! even tupac and biggie dead.
So I gots to step off
before i’m put in my cof
six feet deep for real.

confirmation
secret routes
covert movement
blazing arabian suns.
planes to the target
promised spectacle
to rival none
blind them enough
demand revenge.
eight years prior
plausibility
they tried to no avail
now to hear the wail
women lost to their
suffocating husbands,
watch strapped limbs lobbed
faceless telling of the time,
we will rain rubble
on manhattan
we will ring the wave
shock of horror
centripetal
to drum
to drum
round resounding
drum of war.

allah wakbar!
allah wakbar!
amir sang praises to heaven when he got his letter in the mail. he had been accepted to attend ucla’s program of foreign exchange. his father worked away the years of his life in toil beyond even amir’s understanding so that he would have enough to get his son a western education and a chance at making a place in the modern world.
amir pranced in circles around the table with his mom and clapped his hands to the oud and rebab tunes that poured from the old radio in their home. next fall he would be air bound for sunny patios and crazy discos where the faceless friends of his dreams would be waiting, waiving him down to dance.

the recruiter stopped him in the mall
shiny shoed crew cut in bright white hat
crispy neat and looking proud.
he asked a name a place an age
as situation or circumstance or fate
would have it
he was from the same part of scoville
only 63 instead of 65,
the reds he said and
talked about things malik would know
but left them vague
to the years that passed
since supposedly he got out
how the marines had made him a man
gave him skills to deal
world travel and fat checks from uncle sam
no chump change rinky dink
the real deal complete with 4 years
graduation university style
love for our great land
out of the ghetto
to send money to his moms
he flipped the stiff placard
eagle rose embossed in his fingers
wondered about germany japan.
fine foreign pussy
learning how to shoot.
hand to hand combat
mechanical know how
no more life on bull’s-eye for an 8th
about standing with the few
and being with the proud
About escaping the wraith wrung
Legions of scoville
And being away from scorn

dark down deep
in the earth hole
where the lights blipped and
satellite shots flickered
between scenes
the big brass and
their wide bellied cohorts
plotted the course
the line
the time
the places
the bureau was warning,
some were getting wise,
plausible deniability
the shield to cloak them
from reflection of their crimes.
8 years ago failed
flawed impenetrable
deflecting cases
to obscure investigation
two to be the projectile
third for effect
fourth bound
shot down
hidden from the news.
we will have our place in the sand
we will plant a flag in the hands of everyone
with a camel or a towel
we will pump until we reach the bleed
to feed our fat relations,

amir veered by a friend’s
to boast of his good fortune
sandpipered around the room
then puffed upon a fake cigar
being made fun of
to front the secret envy
for brochured
photos of lush terrain
the faces of people
who walked socialized smiling
their ethnic diversity
with an arab looking kid
whom he saw as only himself
backpack shoulder slung.
polo shirt and blue jeaned
below 75 degrees
of fahrenheit sun

yo the cops! run!
confusion
discombobulating
breathless
havening
just last week rock steady shot a man
for trying to steal his loot
then out of spite
he took the motherfucka’s boots
damn fools now look what they did
accessory to homicide
he ran
ran like runny grits
ran like greyhounds out of state
ran rickety and wild run
ran like carl when he was in his prime
ran like a fool that don lost his mind.
ran like shows on tv run
re ran rerun
he ran off his ass
ran like he had hell hounds on his trail
ran like thoughts out of focus
ran like a corn field to the crows
ran like shrub for election
no stopping
cutting through alley ways
jumping over fences
dead in the wrong
but running anyway,
running because it was his last hope
running because he didn’t know what else to do
running away from himself
running away from responsibility
running away from dropped soap
running away from the dope they tossed
when the flashing sirens called.
damn,
they were at his house
asking his moms
questions,
what kind of questions,
how many questions
it was rock steady who pulled the trigger
who pulled the blood
who pulled that poor fools life
through a hole in his god damned skull,

commander and chieftain
slipped away from the white house
to play golf and go fishing.
the nation
was on auto pilot
no more need to worry
about saving his own
presidential ass,
mispronounced,
misspelled,
misspoken,
misled,
mismanaged,
misinformed,
he knew nothing about oppression or education,
knew nothing about the poor people of the appalachians
their opossum feasts and fancy eats of mountain oysters
fresh off the pig,
he had never been on foreign soil
never had a passport
never looked into the eyes
of anyone from a different space
other than his servants
and the occasional trip to micky ds,
shit kickin beer guzzling
cowboy hat wearing,
rodeo wanna be,
mediocre on his own accord
good graces
paternal intervention
saw him his fair share of opportunity
steered into the jagged towering boulders
way right of the shore.
bible thumping god fearing christian
still he knew,
even if no one told him
about the rouse,
the country was not his to control,
florida had been rigged
tens of thousands to the poles
to be turned away as criminals
when they had never so much as sampled
a supermarket grape,
he knew about the machines,
knew cahoots with the fox
he knew that terror was rising
in the walls of his newly received home,
rising in the hexagon,
rising with magically disintegrating planes
rising with the dust clouds of debris
rolling though the avenues
into the eyes of the people.
even as he was reading
piggly wiggly,
green peas and spam,
to his booger eating constituency

at the market place
choosing nuts and honey
for deserts so nice
it would almost make him hate
to leave home.
But not the hot air
typical for the season,
blasting heat heart of the inferno
melting the weak skinned whiteys
who came from businesses
and shuffled around the city
in air conditioned cars
inspecting sites for oil
or weapons of mass oblivion.
almost time for prayer
for amir to rush home
so that he could offer his respects
with the rest of his family
five times a day the call
from the muezzins in the minerets of the mosques
voices rolling over the city in song
deep reverence for the spiritual reminder
that they were bonded in brotherhood
under the honorable and most high
he who had seen it fit for amir to travel across rocky waters
to his dream of deep blue swimming pools
and cool tropical drinks
forbidden to imbibe
but drink he would none the less.
god is great
god is almighty
all praises be to he
the chant the mantra the call
across the lands
where they bow upon knees
and worship the lord of abraham
the bringer of mohammed.
amir failing in focus
missing the motions
eyes on the tight skirts
bronze and bikinied walkers
unstoned
freely roaming
as if nature demanded it
already at the university
shuffling about
with handfuls of knowledge
back and forth between the halls
in libraries
on grassy tree lined lawns
underneath the breezy trees
and just right sun.

you are nothing
do you understand me!
you are scum!
you are lower than scum!
if you were on fire
you wouldn’t be worth
the piss it took to put you out.
when i speak to you you respond
sir yes sir
is that clear
“sir! yes sir!”
are you women?
maybe you’ve been sucking
on your mama’s teat too long,
i want to hear you strong
i want to hear you proud.
i will make men out of you
if i have to beat each and everyone of you maggots myself.
do i make myself clear
“sir, yes sir!”
he knew what he was getting into
before he put his name down
slipped out into the night
hunched low in the back seat
weeks of humiliation
down low in the mud
they gave him a riffle
they gave him a gun
they cut his dreads
until all that was left
was the skin of his head
mornings they worked him
muscles discipline
one of the few the proud
drill time in black boots marching
melting off the baby fat
the 18 years of scoville grime,
“i don’t know what you been told!…”
the chant the mantra
prostrate in pushups
becoming steel eyed
a hero of america.
clear and free
from the hood
he would make good on his dreams
with every bullet he shot,
with every humiliating quip he took
with every peace of grit
with every sir yes sir
he could see himself getting
stronger and closer to his big willie office
far away from the yellows
the greens
the blues
and the reds.

september 11, 2001
morning over the city of new york
fresh baked bagels wafting
as the sleep crumbs fell
from the eyes of the city
the early birds of wall street
the first risers
the working force
the financial heart of the nation
were already making their way into the building
fingers on the button
terminals alight and email away
sorted or junked or filed
some probably stood in front of the glass
with their morning cup
looking out over the rows
of buildings and taxi cabs
what the hell
frozen in shock
as the nose of the airliner opened the window
to let in the wind
madness mayhem
the end of the world to begin
no midday quotas
no long wait till lunch
no quick check of personal sites
when no one is looking
no phone calls home
no business meeting
no shuffle bustle endless rustle of paper
no flirting with the new secretary
no secret desires to be asked out
no hard froze business pose
no poker faces for the money race
the day would be suddenly cut short
the office closed forever
due to forces beyond anyone’s control,
anyone
that is
except the oval crew
who rallied the boys a proper retaliation,
only a few were in the loop the secret society of puppeteers
they in high theatrical fashion looked
as shocked as anyone would
the country was under attack!
“terror, terror, goddamn those terrorists! [cue card]
this is an act of war! call the president” [cue card]
shrub was in the middle of green peas and spam
when the whisper came
allowing him to pause in the story
just long enough for dramatic effect
then went on to the part about trains and boxes and foxes,
and in the dark,
and could you would you in the dark…
in the midst of the panic pause shock screaming
streaming tears of those at the bottom of the building
and the frantic char broiled careening of those at the top
the second winged wonder made a beeline spectacular smack
splattering spattering slice dicing explosion.
damn!!!!!!
oh my god!!!!!!!!!
oh my goooooooooooood!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
from the fiftieth floor they dove
taking their chances with gravity
against the hopelessness of surviving
the imploding exploding chunks of ruble
stoning them into murals upon the fallen walls.
again the whisper in the ears of shrub
“…say…
i do…
i do like green peas and spam
…i would eat them in the dark…”
the footage showed
despite his scholarly reading
he was perturbed nervous shocked
lost for words or action or reaction
as if he was thinking to himself
“they actually did it
they actually pulled it off
and no, it is too late to go back”
looking long
like he had missed something
or regretted something
or had a secret
he would forever
have to conceal
no amount of golf clubs would reverse it
and now the war would be on.
they said they had a target
but damn,
they said they found a way to bring in sodom
but damn,
said don’t go to work we got your back
but damn,
they said that all the buddies and pals
the oil industry insiders would be given a free pass
to the richest well sprung spring in the world
but damn,
damn, daddy
what have you done,
rummer
what have you done,
chain gang
what have you done.
“…thank you thank you ham i am!”

september 10th, 2001,
amir had one week before school began he decided to take a flight to nyc so that he could get a glimpse of the big apple for a day before he began his studies nervous at the airport and the long lines of people passports flashed and shuffling past grimacing guards with machine guns off on air away from the dessert heat finally away from the sand, to the big apple the metropolis where hip hop was suppose to have been born and music flowed in the street like wine in paris spectacular shows on broadway street performance and a deli sandwich of corned beef rubens washed down with a coke, he wanted to see it all do it all experience it all…
“next!”
snapped back to reality he marched forward to the checkout window and handed over his newly printed passport smiled and told the clerk he was off to america…
“gate 52a. next!”
on board the plane fidgeting, all the while for sitting longer than he ever had to sit in his life time prayer time came and went and came and went but god would surly understand the position he was in, cheap flights take longer with all the layovers and changes he would be traveling for about 24hrs before he reached nyc.
after a life age on the wing he landed then was shuffled off to immigration where more scowls looked at passports and asked why they were in america why they had traveled so far for business pleasure subterfuge. amir spoke and said that he was a student at a university in california his english less than impeccable from the hours of practice and hanging on words of school teachers or imitating the characters in film his accent was there but otherwise detectable as the guard looked into his smiling pupils and said welcome to america.
baggage claim and everything was strange weird new wonderful weird other worldly free furious and fascinating so many different types of people so many of them so big round plump fat on thin legs reaching for bags so many children running and early morning tired eyes travelers rolling by the customs checkers opening bags waving people by waving amir by without so much as a regard to his connecting flight where soon he would be able to see the spot where the nicks play ball where blue note howls and beat nicks collected that great sprawling oasis in the city central park times square the empire state building the world take center and the statue of liberty reaching up her great big torch bearing arm to the open skies.
two hours plus flight in another machine bags rechecked boarding pass passed into the hull aluminum giant the bullet nosed bird… take off and away long away far away over the eastern part of the land over new york spiraling buzzing zooming down into the heart of the city seas
allah wakbar
the incredulous screams,
“we will see heaven and be bathed by a thousand beauties we will be wrapped in the arms of god
allah wakbar!
we will see the dragon demon spawn of hell fall and our families rewarded.
allah wakbar we will be the martyr the heros of our day …”
“no no no no no not today please i am wanting to live, wanting to see!” and saw he did right up close just outside the small window next to his seat the big twin scaling skyscrapers scraping against the outside of the plane scraping away the flesh of the people sitting in front of him row by row until he was stripped clean of his american dream prematurely unwillingly sent into the arms of allah.

all right men this is it
the president has officially declared a war on terrorism.
get your gear together cause in three days at 06:00 hrs
we are off to afghanistan
where we will kick some contraban towel-head ass.
“so soon?” he thought what about college and his big willie office and all the places the recruiter promised he would get to go to? he never said anything about afghanistan he mentioned germany, japan, korea but never afghanistan. hell he thought he would make it through the years of his commitment just long enough to get a skill, get a job, get an education, never have to fight in a war, and get the hell out.
the three days had passed fast he and his platoon was off…something about marines being the first to arrive the first to kick ass. they were the few the proud the scared out of their god damned minds 18 19 20 21 22 23 year old niggers from the ghetto, spicks from the barrio, waps from the neighborhood, chinks from china town, camel jockeys from convenient stores, red neck sons of bitches …all in their own way had escaped life by joining the marines looking for college funds for a career for hope for regular meals for self discipline for freedom from a life behind bars or at the bars, from everything, every thing that was gnawing at the fibers of their souls
“we will get in and get out. we will strike hard and fast. we will subdue the enemy with little or no us casualties. your country needs you. your president needs you. the world needs. you we must protect our freedom must protect the future of our children you are the heroes of today you are marines…”
he was pumped excited scared he had never been in a war of course but felt it was probably no different than the fire fights in scoville where bullets whipped past his ear on more than one occasion, he had seen blood, guts spilled, bodies bleeding crawling in the streets he had heard the pow powerful back kick straighten a boy backward down roads where cars spat bullets on unsuspecting enemies, he told himself he survived it and that it would be no different, that he had bigger guns around him this time, although he had never taken another human life he had seen it enough times on tv and in the streets to know how it was to be done. fuck it. he was going to war in the dessert of afghanistan, might as well get the shit out of the way now so he could get on with his big willie dream the transport was long and uncomfortable, there was no comfort for the fighting man, some guys were scared because they had heard horror stories about the persian gulf war of the early 90’s the gas and chemical and melting eyes and peeling skin and the long after effects even years later when most people would expect to be ok, they had heard about people coming back with missing limbs or not coming back at all… the sergeant told him that this war was different that they had more precise weapons that they could hit a mouse on the forest floor without rustling the trees that they would burn a snake right of his hole without disturbing the sand. sergeant was there fighting the persian gulf war he said it was all a hoax cooked up by spiteful folks who have no respect for the sacrifices a soldier makes for his country. like the sacrifice malik made when his vehicle was ambushed in afghanistan and he thought he would never see his family again and the regret he had for joining the marines and the regrets he had for selling crack in the hood. how he begged god for forgiveness how he begged to be saved, the black hood the punches the beatings the messages he was forced to speak, the hunger, the dried blood caked under his nose, the weak wave of hopelessness that rose inside of him then the gunfire the running the yelling after endless sunless days in confinement the sweet sound of english to his ears the blinding sunlight the helicopter blades on a stretcher in the hands of a miracle alive free and on his way home.

oh! why have they done this,
why have you taken my baby,
amir! amir,
allah why what have we done
we are people with simple dreams
he was a good boy,
a kind boy,
a good soul,
why did he have to burn inside of that awful plane
why did he have to suffer so horribly,
allah you have forsaken us,
you have left us without a son
these terrorists
didn’t they check
to see if they were killing their own people
other muslims
didn’t they care that innocents
would die along with their infidels
amir did not care for such things
even when the recruiter came to get him for the camps
where they train the men to be killers,
amir had no hate in his heart
only infatuation and curiosity,
he refused to believe that a whole nation could be bad,
he refused to violently hate another
he hated instead only those who killed in the name of allah
when allah strictly forbids senseless killing,
the murder of innocence,
becoming the cause of suffering,
it is against divine love
the law of god almighty himself
amir use to say that these were not muslims who called for jihad
these terrorists who bomb and shoot and kill in the name of allah
they are not really reading the koran,
really listening to the voice of allah,
infidels and innocents,
children and soldiers
all in piles of blood and bone
wet under the endless tears of god
he is gone
my child
my only son
he should have stayed here
at home here in iraq
where the worst is sodom
who we know how to avoid,

“get me anything that will link this to sodom anything” said shrub as he tried not to trip over the strings…daddy dearest giver of all i have and all i know i will bring you his head for what he tried to do to you after all we have done for him, i will place the spike on your front law for you to enjoy as the flies eat way the meat …i don’t care if there is no connection, i don’t care how you have to spin it i want him. bem lankin is not the top priority, his family and my family are close enough for us to work that out, i just want sodom, by any means necessary
terror,
they hit the world take center
they brought it down to the rumbling ground
they struck at the heart of our precious land
they defiled our soil
terror
will sound the alarm
terror
will move the blood
the american people
to boiling revenge
terror…
see the hexagon,
the world take center,
anthrax in the mail,
orange
red
rampage
terror,
who knows
where they will strike
what school yard
what puppy farm
what wal-mart,
hell
even the amish aren’t safe
in order to secure the security
we must go to war
stop these terrorists
before they can strike again
the axis of evil is in motion
and our coalition of the indebted
will march into caves and barren wastelands
we will eradicate the problem
terror the world will know,
terrorism will be the buzz
as if it were a ghost
we will be the busters to stop it
onward christian soldiers
make me look good up there
damn i am glad i took vacation early
cause gentlemen we are off to war.

in the infirmary
there were boxes from his local perish
full of cakes, candies and well wishes,
the good reverend goodfoot
had taken up a collection
when he heard the boy had been captured.
lucky for him it was just a few bruised ribs,
a fractured nose
and a lot of broken skin
he made it out alive,
to promises of an easier life
the war was over
his sergent would personally see to it
that he made it to college
he whispered in his ear
about a practice blond
set aside so he could get the grip right.
the days came and went
but he was still in the desert
still in the hung low humidity of the hot desert.
everyday folks flown in,
blown up, badly damaged,
bleeding, and bandaged,
no legs, no arms,
no arms and legs,
monstrously burned.
heard their howling in the night
calling for morphine
afraid to die
the flat line
the endless sleep
inside the desperate heat.

what’s going on with the world
that people must kill and destroy
why is it that all is becoming chaos
the collective fibers of society
becoming unraveled
must we the wolves
rib bones protrude
ravenously consume,
when was it that life,
human life
became so meaningless
that some would volunteer to take their own
while stealing another’s,
allah why amir?
a victim of this senseless wave
of ridicule and sacrilegious tripe…
the contraban have gone too far
they have taken your name
made you into an intolerable tyrant
when you so clearly full of love.
when was it that they began
failing to understand the dept of your mercy…
look after him great lord
keep him well
till father sees his son again

they had the means
to finagle a way around the law
with or without the un to back them
they knew
had known for years
how they would
why they would
attack sodom
finally end his reign
the inside burning
yearning pain of having been
embarrassed by him
…it didn’t matter the cost
in money weapons or lives
the snake hole
a lot smaller than they thought
the mice on the forest floor
couldn’t be seen
without clearing the trees
two years had passed
with the passing of the towers
people were beginning to relax
they needed to strike,
strike right away
follow up
more fear
tell them he could do far worse
refused to let inspectors in
till sodom had hidden them all
bring the sketchy evidence
satellite photos of dark shapes moving
building clusters
we see them bombs
uk boney scare join the fall
economy, jobs, oil, contracts
let him call
or try to call
the voices of the eu
to their senses
to our side
let the coalition be made
we are going
we are taking iraq
democratic process
will not get in the way
of our freedom
this is a war!
wherever they are
we will roll in our tanks
smite them where they breed
with help of the havemores
we will motivate us through television
show the oppression of women
demonize
dehumanize
fustigate
and purge the scourge of the earth
to the very fires of living hell,
the Sudan can wait,
the congo
those people are too hungry to fight for too long
let them tire themselves
our business is here.
terror!
our war.

somewhere on a base in the middle east he was fixing machines and supporting his troops just as he was told but has yet to crack one academic reference or attend one class, in and out they said but they were still there even thought they called the war over even thought they said the contraban were dead. we are still combing the mountains looking for benny and the jets who for all we know have shaved their beards and are chilling on a beach in thailand.
he felt like he had been gypped with his own pride, he was a marine he survived his capture god was on his side…
shock hit when the news came
another location in the middle east,
another war,
another country
didn’t we kick their asses when I was 9 why do we have to go back again,
swore he had no luck then thought twice because he was still alive.
away they went into the thick
they were marines
the first ones landing
the last ones standing
no more sick duty
we need men strong arms
you can walk you can drive,
you can carry a gun, you can fight,
sir yes sir…
now move out and into the fray
wild eyes and afraid
they had blown up the wrong building and the head of a little girl was right at his feet, even on the worst of the worst days in scoville he never saw the screaming mothers who spit on them as they walked by the blood red wedding dress burning off the veils
lipless laughter
silly grin
the mind melding stench of people
cooking roasting
stripped out flattened stronghold
where no 9 year old holy warriors
were polishing their guns
and calling for jihad
no never, never in all his days slinging rocks
did he watch as people crawled
helplessly beneath the scope
to be blown into the darkness
without a weapon to be seen
if there was some hint of mass oblivion
some trace of heavy weapons
why were they hiding in buildings
shooting with riffles and rocket launchers
instead of anthrax,
nuclear, mustard, sarine, vx
laden things
where were the barrels
labeled Hoboken Springfield Akron
faces emptied skulls
brother lost and friends…
he ran through the ruble of a town on to his mission
ran without stopping without hesitating,
“i am a marine, i am a marine, though i walk through the valley of the shadows i fear no evil cause i am the baddest mother fucker in the valley”
The chant the mantra
he ran past the hand that lay in the middle of the road ran
hollowed out heads that dozed
between the bullets that snarled at him
deeper growling than scoville
bigger bite
ran behind burnt vehicles and partial walls
ran into the arms of the enemy,
again
to be instantly dealt,
no merciful fists and graceful kicks,
no warm shackles and comfortable cells
just a hug
gut wrenching jagged edge sharp pointed
from around a blind spot
away from the homeys of his hood…

“ americans are safer,
sodom has been taken down,
we have him in custody,
he is no longer a threat.
many american’s have lost their lives
sacrificed much for their country,
we are saddened by that loss
uplifted by the new age it brings,
terrorism must end,
we must be the ones to stop it.”

amir’s family had
little time to grieve
wanting to escape
with only enough for one more
to morroco or egypt or africa
anywhere were there is no doom…
just before the bombs hit
he was off to another land
to carry the family name
his father and mother
aunt and uncle
residential stronghold
unknown terrorists
militia men chosen
to be snake in the hole,
the mice in the field…
he who got way
wept and was done with war
he hated america
he hated the terrorists
he hated shrub
he hated sodom
he hated himself
for being alive…

in scoville
and ,
despite what they officially said,
in iraq
the war continued
rock steady was jailed
then shanked
in retaliation
across the land in other parts
a butcher packs his riffle
for a shooting spree,
high school metal detectors
alert the living dead
drowsy drugged lousy in
all the scoville
multicolored
multiracial
multiethnic
broke ass
broken down busted
ghettos of america
shrub and his secret band
scot-free
with never sent a son to boot camp
daughter to the army demons
all done for freedoms
ripped wrangled and wrested
in our name
god bless america,
and save us from our sins

narrator’s note:

let me go now
fore it really gets bad
fore my door’s kicked in
and my place is full of gas
leave me my skin
no atomic cracks
chemical burns
peeling our backs
i can feel the ground shake
see the ripples on the lake
16 hooves a pounding
bounding to this place
let me away before they arrive
let away before they arrive
don’t want my teeth charred
don’t want my balls fried

M. D. Nealy