20161211 (cartoon war)

To view Disneyland of War" go to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USnNFkFkdEk

"In war the first casualty is truth,”

Aeschylus, Greek, 5th century BCE.

That said, how much truth can be

Reported? If history is any guide,

Damn little—especially if your side

Is losing. In this world of instant

Dissemination some rules seem

Reasonable (if there is anything

Reasonable about war): don’t 

Reveal your position, don’t tell

Sir Rodney how many men he

Has in his army (the mere threat

Of boiling oil will make him 

Talk), or what’s your next move

(as in poker, as in chess). But 

What can you tell the parents

Who have both proudly and 

Regretfully sent their child off

To battle? Can you tell them

How many of the soldiers have

Fallen? Or might that encourage

The enemy? Is it enough to

Say they died or must you say

They died quickly, without

Suffering? Is it best to leave

The matter of friendly fire

Undiscussed? Whatever you

Do, when they find out the 

Truth, will they understand

You only meant to spare them

The agony? Since the first

Iraq War in Kuwait we have 

Not seen many photographs

Of wounded soldiers dying

On the battlefield. We have not

Watched on the nightly news

Any of the slaughter “up close

And personal,”  as we did with

The body-count reports from 

Vietnam. Mike Hanes, a combat

Veteran of the Iraq War and 

Member of  Veterans for Peace

In San Diego, partnered with 

Chris Smiley to produce a film 

About child recruitment through

The regularly recurring air show

On the Marine base at Miramar, 

Evocatively titled, “Disneyland

Of War.” As he narrates his 

Reactions to watching boys and

Girls being introduced to 

Machines guns and anti-tank

Mortars, Humvees and land

Mines, he intersperses his 

Comments with full color

Battle footage of soldiers screaming

“I’m hit,” as medics rush up

To bind the wounds and stop 

The profuse bleeding. But far

More striking is the sequence

Of men rolling a soldier over

Who is not quite dead yet from

His encounter with an improvised

Explosive device (land mine is 

Our term) whose open abdomen

Is dripping organs and whose

Face has been hacksawed off,

Revealing some teeth on a dangling

Jaw. Hanes recalls how like the

Youngsters he was bedazzled by

The weaponry, and confesses

We are committing a gross evil

In familiarizing children with

Death machines. Which are the

Realities of war? The rush of

Jet planes in formation overhead?

The circle of black cloud that rises

Like a casually blown smoke ring

From a cigarette breath? Or the

Raw red flesh of a friend gouged,

Shredded to the bone as he screams

For his mother? Can’t show that to

Children. Now with the media

Refusing to cover the war damage

To our own, we’ll not see that either.

But every once in a while

They’ll show us a wounded 

Syrian or Yemeni child and 

Call it “The true cost of war.”

As adults--Aren’t we mature 

Enough to make a sound moral

Decision about war were we 

To unzip a body bag to behold 

Its contents?

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

20161210 (apology)

View soldiers request forgiveness of Lakota Chief Leonard Crow Dog at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hx3K6ZZuIys

While inanity ruled in Dump’s 

Tower in New York City,

On the plains of North Dakota

An historic incident of incredible

Humanity occurred between 

Veteran soldiers of the United

States and the descendants of

The the all-but-exterminated

Native peoples of this same 

Land. I don’t think it received

Wide coverage, at least not 

Compared with the political

Ephemera amplified and echoed

In the sound and fury of main

Stream media. As much as 

Dump’s forgettable tantrums 

And tweets were driving ever

Downward the nadir of our 

Life, so several contrite soldiers,

Speaking through their leader,

Wesley Clark, Jr., established a zenith

Of reconciliation finally among

The peoples, native and colonial,  

Invaded and invaders, 

Oppressed and oppressors,

By voicing a sincere admission 

Of their (our) sins of centuries of

Genocide and its variants: the

Broken treaties, the attempts 

To blot out the languages, the 

Abuse of the land and the waters.

For all these sins the soldiers,

Kneeling symbolically for their

Fathers in the military, for their

Brothers in the government, and 

For all of us citizens who grew

Rich by the spoliation, the rape

Of their mother earth earnestly

Pleaded for forgiveness at long

Last. They responded appreciatively,

Not letting us forget Wounded 

Knee or numerous other trails 

Of tears, of teepees set aflame,

Or of other massacres. While

All the world was slave to 

Vanity, pomposity, and ignorance

As if they contended for the

Gutter in the great city, on the

Desolate and wintry plain few

Paid attention to the great act 

Of honesty and purity which

Will forever mark a beginning

Of an evil being undone by an

Institution of honor and respect

So long overdue. These humble

Few, acting without fanfare, 

Bright lights, or notice have

Far more significantly revised

Our nations’ story for the future

Than all the bankers’ boasts 

And grifters’ plots to set aside

The law to ruin our

Consecrated land.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

20161202 (ducks & bucks)

With some lighthearted nonchalance Evergreen's mascot is the geoduck (GOO-ee-DUCK)

Like eerie bluish-white fireflies

In the dark over the shallow waters

Of low tide at midnight the bright 

Lamps of the geoducks tenders shone

As they searched for delicacies 

Delightful to East Asian palates, 

Culling those ready for the table. 

Despite the dark I could make 

Out the surface of the Sound and 

Just as easily the stony beach 

Revealed by the tides receding.

The gray clouds overhead didn’t

Impose the “hard dark” of similar

Nights I’ve known in the woods

Of Tennessee and I can’t say why.

Perhaps the moon, pulling the sea

From the land, was still positioned

To illuminate the area enough

For night vision. Geoducks are

Not fish or plants, but clams who 

Bury themselves in the sand and

Produce an upward growing tube

Of flesh, most likened to a phallus,

Which is the reason discussion

Of them is accompanied by titters

(Another problematic reference)

And sly looks among the knowing.

Beachfront owners find the matter

At once annoying and profitable

As they can sign contracts with the

Harvesters (?), cultivators (?) for

A share of the returns earned in

Their piece of the tidelands. The

Annoyance is having to tolerate

The occasional anchoring of 

Their small working barges

Offshore when the time is not 

Ripe and the tide insufficient

For harvest. My BPH affliction

(Benign prostatic hypertrophy)

Has me often walking to the

Bathroom while their work is 

Done, which is quiet and brief.

In the summer I might watch

And listen to a whole session—

Maybe even say hello. Last night 

Was cold and working in the 

Water must have been unpleasant. 

Just how profitable I don’t know.

But it’s interesting that unlike

The lords of the feudal ages whose

Sheep-grazing lands extended to

The fences at the roads, for these

Northwestern nobles the areas

Behind their homes which extend

A quarter-mile to the road are kept

Forested, undeveloped, virtual

Wilderness, simply because they

Don’t need to make it productive.

They're enough as a screen for

Privacy and of some natural

Beauty besides. Log it and haul 

It away? Heavens to Murgatroyd,

No, not in a million! Although

Quite conceivably one day some

Enterprising woods-person 

Could pitch the owners about

Making their fallow forests

Profitable like their clammy seas.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016