File spoon-archives/lyotard.archive/lyotard_2003/lyotard.0302, message 91


Subject: RE: poetry and war
Date: Tue, 18 Feb 2003 21:12:33 -0600


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Hugh, 
 
Here's a poem from the great writer Harold Pinter that is a little more
current.  He always reminds me a little of Noam Chomsky.
 
 
 
God Bless America

 

 

 Here they go again,

 The Yanks in their armoured parade

 Chanting their ballads of joy

 As they gallop across the big world

 Praising America's God.

 

 

 The gutters are clogged with the dead

 The ones who couldn't join in

 The others refusing to sing

 The ones who are losing their voice

 The ones who've forgotten the tune.

 

 

 The riders have whips which cut.

 Your head rolls onto the sand

 Your head is a pool in the dirt

 Your head is a stain in the dust

 Your eyes have gone out and your nose

 Sniffs only the pong of the dead

 And all the dead air is alive

 With the smell of America's God.

 

 

 Harold Pinter January 2003

 

 

 
 
 

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Hugh,

 

Here’s a poem from the great writer Harold Pinter that is a little more current.  He always reminds me a little of Noam Chomsky.

 

 

 

God Bless America                                                                               

                                                                                                 

                                                                                                 

 Here they go again,                                                                             

 The Yanks in their armoured parade                                                               

 Chanting their ballads of joy                                                                   

 As they gallop across the big world                                                             

 Praising America's God.                                                                         

                                                                                                 

                                                                                                 

 The gutters are clogged with the dead                                                           

 The ones who couldn't join in                                                                    

 The others refusing to sing                                                                     

 The ones who are losing their voice                                                             

 The ones who've forgotten the tune.                                                             

                                                                                                 

                                                                                                  

 The riders have whips which cut.                                                                

 Your head rolls onto the sand                                                                   

 Your head is a pool in the dirt                                                                  

 Your head is a stain in the dust                                                                

 Your eyes have gone out and your nose                                                            

 Sniffs only the pong of the dead                                                                

 And all the dead air is alive                                                                   

 With the smell of America's God.                                                                 

                                                                                                 

                                                                                                 

 Harold Pinter January 2003                                                                      

                                                                                                 

                                                                                                  

 

 

 


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