Poets Against War continues the tradition of socially engaged poetry by creating venues for poetry as a voice against war, tyranny and oppression.

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Clifton Snider


You Tell Me

I wanted to go to Baghdad
to see the Tigris,
to see elements
of Western Civilization,
to see, if not handle,
descendants of the desert
with eyes as deep as blood,
with skin like river rocks,
children of our forebears,
cousins.
                 But some of them
voted for the one name on the ballot,
a man who executed cabinet ministers,
who sent young men
to die fighting a neighbor
--two neighbors--
who failed to be conquered
by the father of our
illegitimate leader, he
of the sodden eyes, who
worships blood and oil.

If I get to Baghdad,
what and who will be there
to see, to understand?


Poem Copyright © Clifton Snider, 2003


Victory in Iraq

            April 2003

Bush II sips his blood-red bubbly,
one bullet in the glass,
upstairs in the White House.
He nibbles pretzels of victory.

The horror he manipulated
exploits the TV screen.
Marines place the flag, lasso
a statue of Baghdad’s dictator.

Bush II must telephone Daddy.  First
he belches from a toothy Texas grin
under brine-black eyes,
a brainy mangle of manure.

Somewhere in Baghdad,
on a solitary bed, lies an
armless boy, newly orphaned,
his face asleep, innocent agony.


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