Image | Posted on by | Leave a comment

Image | Posted on by | Leave a comment

SLEEPWALKING

A Poem by Stefanie Bennett

–Because of Monsanto & Dow Chemical

The easy-speak wind
Has a lot
On her mind.
Me? I’m watching
My Ps and Qs
Just as the frost
Does
Back of
The blind
Stump
Where
The Ghost
Of Valour

Forages.

Posted in Stefanie Bennett | Leave a comment

Don’t Cry My Children

A Poem by Stefanie Bennett

– after Monsanto and Dow Chemical

They scold you for being
Too big for your boots.
For back-chatting.
For singing in quiet places.
For feeding the animals.
For questioning the damnation
Of some; the elation
Of others. They question
The questioning. You must not
Cry, my children!
It happens because it happens.

Soon, you’ll learn to laugh
In all the right quarters.
Soon, you’ll learn to lie
With the best of them.
Soon, the answers will be
Covered by a bill-of-sale
You’ll slip into, comfortably.
The humans of this world
Clothe and cord their existence
In a way that costs the very
Earth… but not one red cent.

And –, as for the odd one of you,
They can’t take a chance
On the odds of a chance. The unusual
Is dangerous. A close watch is kept.
They scold with laws fit only
For the breaking. There’s…
The locking-up, the throwing away
Of keys. And a thing called ‘personality’.
You would not want to be
One of the oddities
Left crying?
Whatever you do

– Do not make the mistake
Of answering me.

Posted in Stefanie Bennett | Leave a comment

Agent Orange Infection – I go to school with my friend.

Agent Orange Infection – I go to school with my friend.

A cheerful seeming oil pastel by 14-year-old Do Nguyen Thanh Tam: http://artswithoutborders-eddee.blogspot.com/2012/06/speakpeace-at-war-memorial-art-museum.html

Posted in Do Nguyen Thanh Tam | Leave a comment

Monsanto, What Have You Done?

A Poem by Korea J. Brownstein

I am an old man.
I’m seventy-two.
I’m supposed to go to high school,
but I do not–I go to day care.
I’m seventy-two,
but I look like I’m two
and I always sleep with my teddy bear
and play outside with my friends.
Everyone asks me how old I am
and I tell them I’m seventy-two,
but I look like I am three.
The girls come by
and I tell them I’m seventy-two,
but I look like I’m four.
I play with three year old toys.
I hear a tweak.
I hear a knock.

Posted in Korea J. Brownstein | Leave a comment

DREAM VOLLEY; Summer of ‘69 for Mick (Never Forgetting Monsanto and Dow Chemical)

A Poem by Stefanie Bennett

I wanted to come back.
The stones had not moved
Since my passing.
A cock still crowed late,
Past daylight.
The windmill sat stern,
Forever unturned.

Wildflowers hugged the back door.
The old dog… once a pup,
Rolled over in the shade
Of the ghost gum,
Forgetting he knew
How to bark; forgetting
What it means to howl.

I wanted to come back. Not
As a will-o’-wisp
Or love’s mercenary…

I wanted to come back, but not ever
With the Nobel Prize for insecurity
Wedged in the crook of my arm.

I wanted to come back.
As keen as a new grass-blade.
A pinnacle within a dream

… I wanted. I wanted that.

The dew lay like premature tears.
Perhaps the earth wept!
Indisputably, my knees sank
Into heart’s soil
That seemed to melt.
To forgive.
A little.

Posted in Stefanie Bennett | Leave a comment