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BY LAURA

“What a piece of work is man!”
the anguished Dane lamented—
how noble in form!

And with our man- made work
we hear the
catchy phrases
of our nightly news—
our shock and awe campaign,
the warning call has been sounded
the beginning of the rule of might.


Before the war begins,
cannot you hear other sounds?
One late night in Baghdad and we
should hear the mournful soul -shrieking
sounds of our impending assault.

Do not forget this moment
before the bombs fell, the siren sound
of the call in the dark—
as the vulnerable morning began.

This is the sound of mothers
this is the sound of sisters
and this is the sound of brothers
as the skies begin to fall.

we know not what time will reveal
as when Poland felt the thrust
of such an arrogant male member—
it spewed
upon its erection—
dimming the world in its
ejaculated race hatred.

I hear the sound of war—
and it is a universal sound
of hearts and minds breaking,
and no matter what the cause
it is always the distorted
sound of such great evil
loosed upon the world.

It is the sound of my weeping
at what a piece of work is man—
The distorted sound of great evil
loosed upon the world.