What I do, steely nerved and sharp dead-eye, is leapingly assail
wherever they are—D.C., Rio, Mumbai, Dubai, Sky, Shanghai—
memorials to glorifying war. Dag-locks! Dag-locks all! Toxic displays,
odious dung, trumpeting the deadly hallucinations of Bovarist nations,
brain-bathing cheeky adolescents to guzzle this toxic “true belief”
frothed with mothers’ warm milk. Why not true-carved stones of war?
Why not craft inert rocks to stones of truth, real lessons to stop killing
our children with our willful stupidity? Splats of salty red spray from
stone bodies obliterated by bombs, hand-carved limbs ripped off,
detailed skulls blown open by high-speed bullets, intentionally sent tumbling
and twirling for maximum bodily damage; stone guts ripped belly to throat;
ears, testicles, scrotums cut off; vaginas raped and ripped, brains splattered
inside skulls scrambling minds forever—real life Humpty Dumpties.
These would be true carved memorials to war.
Copyright Tim Bagwell