Poetry
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It’s a War Out There

Think: the ghost in Amadeus,

Salieri trying to haunt Mozart

With the image of the father

Demanding excellence.

 

Some believe it is good

To require

To judge

To reprimand

To beat

And what did you get, at the end?

Resentment.

 

So, you ask, is Laissez Faire

Any better?

Is the writer without angst

Not a writer?

Is the army without

the dehumanizing

good at winning wars?

 

And yet

Whose war was it

When the voice said

In a celebratory tone

To go ahead

With the rope

The wobbly chair

Whose war was to be won?

 

Yours, an odd war

In which the other,

The different,

Isn’t deserving of a life.

 

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