Poets Against War continues the tradition of socially engaged poetry by creating venues for poetry as a voice against war, tyranny and oppression.
Paul Lobo Portuges
64 years old
Paul Lobo Portugés--reared in Merkel, West Texas, until saved by UCLA, the American Film Institute, and UC Berkeley. Teaches creative writing at UCSB. Taught creative writing at UCSB, UC Berkeley, USC, SBCC, and the University of Provence. Proud father of two sons. Books include The Visionary Poetics of Allen Ginsberg, Saving Grace, Hands Across the Earth, The Flower Vendor, Paper Song, Aztec Birth, The Body Electric Journal, The Silent Spring of Rachel Carson, and Mao (forthcoming). Poems are scattered in small magazines across the America, Europe, and Asia . Award wining poetry films include Kai-hui to Her Beloved Mao, Kiss, The Lonely Wind, Fathermine, and Of Her I Sing. Received awards from the National Endowment, the Ford Foundation, the American Film Institute, The Rockefeller Foundation, and the Fulbright Commission.
The Killing fields
The Killing Fields I cry a psalm a river of prayers at the cemetery of shadows when bombs make tombs of the enemy asleep in their Gods after first rains birth gold grasses over Darfur’s oil break winter dead earth as jagged blood rivers bear witness to whirlwinds of death these devils shimmering on horseback cleansing the land of Blacks taking the war weary girls in the middle of starry night
by three in Wadi Tima three times three in Kailek because of their ebony skin “to change the color of your babies” they rape them and with machetes cut the young breasts kick the moving fetuses with gov’t. issue boots one hundred thousand dishonored daughters cast from the land of Genesis widowed mothers wandering nowhere to cry forever one hundred thousand boys slaughtered bleaching bones in the scorched wind
hungry flies delight in the hot shade as a bent over wanderer cries “God is great” remembering the sounds of her dead children she draws bloodlines in the blowing sand three for her daughters: teacher dancer seer heaped into the howling village afire three for her sons: farmer herdsman poet feet slit from toes to ankles testicles bulging from their fly covered mouths their god fearing eyes open to heaven weeping no more
sincere speeches are made a poem written Dalai Lama blesses the forsaken as bullets fly each into the other ignored daily by headlines of oil as flesh girls lick tv for pretty and spice boys practice viral games of death until forgiving earth brings forth fire and flood that God willing gives birth to black lovers waiting for the blood of the living ground with aboriginal mind for love’s only song
a prayer for the war's end
a prayer for the war's end for the children's return to weedy fields of kites and laughter.
