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Contests : War Poetry Contest : Past Winners : 2006 : Judson Blake
THE IMMOLANT APPROACHES THE PENTAGON
Brain of speckled white hot neural flame, why not the rest of me now
pure compressed of no
For hating war, I am no hero our age does not generate those fictive, ancient, boltneck beasts,
clear of eye, no
intelligent thing, yes, you, lover, sweet lover widow, bestowed silent midnight
wisdom: save save...
save yourself, if no other, she said stamping
out a cigarette
in the dark room where we spent that night... it is the gaudy cataclysm of the last
last law of thermodynam I am there will be no last thought... not of love nor
war,
we've genius now for only numbers and glib evasions we're subtle at,
and shiny metal buttons
and clever ways to hate No, blessed I am and lucky here not shameless battle
killing others
rather this death of course, it'll take some time, some seconds before I
stop remembering,
yes, my father they will blame, how he fought his war, how I left young,
they'll explain it all,
then the fire ( quick, of course, lest the running white jackets
run, run fast...)
but at least this, not to defile my pants in the psych ward,
categorized in a file, pitied of the hired pitiers, thorazine comatose (required for you to believe our leader)
(but why not collude with all who collude
don't be fooled, son)
the preplanned saint expostulates for the latenite talkshow, groveling grateful he
won't starve
but why, why not collude with all who have colluded, to deceive and
bargain war?
at the last perhaps I will I ask myself: why is it fitter
that I should destroy this hair lungs heart, these cytokines given me,
all I have, I think
because I cannot burn to death evil that slinks
over the land,
this succubus and miasmic pox delights in killing, the long long shadows of the smiling suits
that sign the edicts make the mothers wake up screaming at the door?
and now so well we know these peeved pubescent golfers
insulted on the playground, weren't they, playpistol tooked away Dada,
dismissed because at daddy's knee they were caressed,
taught that life should make you golden, wine canapés upon a diamond plate,
and now those hurt babies have... a-bombs in their pockets,
obedient coteries, Yes, Sir!
"I'll show them now, won't I dada, d-yesss!" so Pinocchio plays with his paper stick,
his concubine cracks a dinner joke,
(why those F-16's just redid that parlor and bassinet in, Ah, ya shoulda seen, Decorator Colors, ha-ha)...
while Goebbels calculates – what will make a rhyme for your coming years?
some fewer fingers perhaps, yes, maybe a leg,
an eye would fit you even better (so few lose an eye), we must see, yess
match the flying glass and razorblades Pinocchio and the Maid set out the cordite tea tray
for the loyal and the brave--- here gasoline have I got,
is that enough?
acetone you buy in the cosmetic aisle of eternity burns for
flashing yellow oh
91% isopropyl alcohol, truly blue i am the one out of place
(they must be right being rich) long as I'm mouthing aphorisms
then I'm okay when there is silence I want
life to continue-- will
there be some last thought before the last
just a few seconds after the scintillant lighter forty seconds? oh, or more? how will I
endure all that thought?
And sometimes something, some odd thing will God remember? O, will I be on TV? before an ad for a car?
why pretend to be a hero, when our age... who could not take the taste
loves only official partiers excited by burnt clothes? I am not that I am
burnt to roastduck purulent toast,
smell of burnt hair and skin (smell you don't forget they say,
I'd teach you had I time )
but some at least some at least perhaps will say: yes we gave power to lying fools,
lies to conjure war
the bad cell in the brain, best, yes,
destroy the best
Why involve myself and so, involved, delete the sea? now,
for at last, last questions
save save yourself, she said, stamping out her
napalm cigarette
sudden, sudden quick growing flower of warmth,
fire lover
flame that purifies
also forgives
Blessed I am at last I see you now at last,
beloved Other,
unknown till now speak this once to me speak
only
nothing
none
not
no
.
This poem won an Honorable Mention in the 2006 War Poetry Contest sponsored by Winning Writers. Author Judson Blake received a $75 award. Copyright is reserved to the author.
About Judson Blake
Judson Blake received his BA in Literature from the University of California at Berkeley. He grew up in New Mexico and has lived in Europe. He has worked in weapons research, art education,
banking, counseling for the elderly and tutoring children. Some years ago he settled in New York, where his life was saved by Jungian analysis, acting, stand up comedy, precious friends and writing poems. He is working now on a nonfiction amplification of his war poetry.
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