"IT DOES NOT CONCERN ME" (a poem)
The following was published in my college Biannual Literary Magazine--'DRIFTWOOD' (2002 I think) It was inspired after the actions (and continuing actions of the United States--in response to Terror attacks); I felt it appropriate to repost here in wake of the RECENT INCIDENT in INDIA.
'IT DOES NOT CONCERN ME'
By Brett A. Encelewski
Children slowly die from starvation, in blistering hunger. Their bellies fill and expand with need. The eyes roll back into their infantile skulls in sunken misery. They bathe their chapped skin out of the same stagnant pool civilization has allotted them, and then quench their thirst with the same water. It does not concern me; I am an American.
Behemoths of death glide over the unforgiving surface of the gentle and delicate oceans. They send the carcasses of their steel kin to the bottom, to bleed their toxins into the gills of the children of the drink. They drag their screens of doom, raping the vitality of the deep blue sea. It does not concern me; I tend to the vitality of America.
A market place erupts into a macabre spray of fire, shredded produce, and the flesh of men, women and children. Religious patriots lob crudely constructed explosives into crowds. They reap the crimson glory for Allah, for Christ, and for Jesus. It does not concern me; I am a citizen of a great nation under God.
Whole countries bolster their economy on growing, producing, and manufacturing illicit substances. They aid international militants in their quests of terror. They slash down the great grandfather trees without an ounce of respect for their age, their function, or themselves. They fight, kill and die for primitive non-renewable resources. With great effort they smuggle their poisons through our borders. It does not concern me; I am an American consumer, and they can do what they want.
Men achieve great feats of martyrdom and bring down majestic mountains of steel and glass and gold. Brits lose lives, Japs lose lives, Frenchman lose lives. They all lose lives. Americans lose lives, and the streets of Babylon are filled with the dead. I am America, and I shall make the world pay the price, and cooperate with my vengeance lest they face my wrath.
When done, her hellfire spent, the beaten and weary citizens of a crumbled nation shall arise to see their crushed cities smoldering from the helping hand of America. It is a punishing hand, a disciplined hand. She shall feed them, and clothe them, and dictate their new government. Then the small men, the silent women, and the quivering children shall look up at the ominous figure of Lady Liberty and say “thank-you” to their great savior. They will have to rebuild the cities, and pick-up the dead, because America has done the hard part for them. But when the refugees come knocking at her door, she shall swat them like diseased flies, turn them away, and send them back to the dusty little hole that they came from. It does not concern me; I am an American, and that is the way it should be.
'IT DOES NOT CONCERN ME'
By Brett A. Encelewski
Children slowly die from starvation, in blistering hunger. Their bellies fill and expand with need. The eyes roll back into their infantile skulls in sunken misery. They bathe their chapped skin out of the same stagnant pool civilization has allotted them, and then quench their thirst with the same water. It does not concern me; I am an American.
Behemoths of death glide over the unforgiving surface of the gentle and delicate oceans. They send the carcasses of their steel kin to the bottom, to bleed their toxins into the gills of the children of the drink. They drag their screens of doom, raping the vitality of the deep blue sea. It does not concern me; I tend to the vitality of America.
A market place erupts into a macabre spray of fire, shredded produce, and the flesh of men, women and children. Religious patriots lob crudely constructed explosives into crowds. They reap the crimson glory for Allah, for Christ, and for Jesus. It does not concern me; I am a citizen of a great nation under God.
Whole countries bolster their economy on growing, producing, and manufacturing illicit substances. They aid international militants in their quests of terror. They slash down the great grandfather trees without an ounce of respect for their age, their function, or themselves. They fight, kill and die for primitive non-renewable resources. With great effort they smuggle their poisons through our borders. It does not concern me; I am an American consumer, and they can do what they want.
Men achieve great feats of martyrdom and bring down majestic mountains of steel and glass and gold. Brits lose lives, Japs lose lives, Frenchman lose lives. They all lose lives. Americans lose lives, and the streets of Babylon are filled with the dead. I am America, and I shall make the world pay the price, and cooperate with my vengeance lest they face my wrath.
When done, her hellfire spent, the beaten and weary citizens of a crumbled nation shall arise to see their crushed cities smoldering from the helping hand of America. It is a punishing hand, a disciplined hand. She shall feed them, and clothe them, and dictate their new government. Then the small men, the silent women, and the quivering children shall look up at the ominous figure of Lady Liberty and say “thank-you” to their great savior. They will have to rebuild the cities, and pick-up the dead, because America has done the hard part for them. But when the refugees come knocking at her door, she shall swat them like diseased flies, turn them away, and send them back to the dusty little hole that they came from. It does not concern me; I am an American, and that is the way it should be.
