The Place of Nature in the March of Progress

The Place of Nature in the March of Progress

When wars loom wombs still rain
boys like spears from the sky:

a joke in an age when women
have thankfully equalised the right

to press buttons, doggy-rape prisoners
on leads, declaim to mass acclaim

there is no society. Now birth is elected
with pills, the painless clean knife

scheduled to fit the schedules
of the obstetrician’s golf, the breast

deferred to save its shape and return
a.s.a.p. to the mortgage wheel, the new-born’s

screams among screens, formula & plastic
closely zoomed from a distant room

or drowned out with a lawnmower,
The Biggest Loser, to teach it love.

Guilt shouts like Walt’s barbaric yawp
from the hidden rooftops of the humble heart

as men look sideways and, flag-wrapped,
still march like morons off to war

for a holiday from the hell of home they miss
among the foreign homes they bravely shell.

[from my The Post-Man Letters & Other Poems, available online from Picaro Press, cf. Blogroll]


~ by Peter Lach-Newinsky on January 3, 2011.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: