Tactic Racial Lullaby

When the twilight was falling
American soldiers took their babies.
. . . for babies must be taken . . .
Whose babies?
Where babies?
Babies gooby goo-goo?
Do people still need babies?

When the war against the Arabs started
Americans hid their babies.
This baby.
My baby.
Cannot babies live subterranean?
They are very tiny diggers.
Teensy tiny, dig, dig.

– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
from:
antipoémus thumbnail image Antipoémus (poetry book)

Soldierland Lithium

Not am I certain
of the United States Marine Corps.
Not have they won every battle.
Not is the look in their eyes
a violence bred of poverty.

Their alumni wear the moustaches,
their moustaches orderly like freedom.
Their moustaches, the stinkpots of freedom,
they are strong and smell of dank.
Order the conflicts for protection.
That our wars should never end.
People come home fucked up from them.
Many people never come home.

– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
from:
antipoémus thumbnail image Antipoémus (poetry book)