M. H. Death

July 11, 2009
By Anonymous

M. H. Death
The anchor went down-

The plane landed-

Darfur, Sudan.
A little bit to the South
Lonely in Nowhere

The bellowing dust, under the soles

Ran away… where?
Children around my knees
Babies crawling – dogs snarling
Women silent with desperation
Fathers dripping with dignity and deals
Into the War they followed
The War that had one side with guns
The other side with pain

Who why what how
They asked
Call me Murder
I said.
Call me Holocaust
Call me Government
Call me Idiot
Call me Genocide
Whichever you like

And I pulled out my gun
Shot the baby over there
Killed the mother that screamed
Cut the father’s fists
And to the 10-year-old son
Gave a drop of cocaine to the forehead
And handed him a gun

Soon they came,
The men on horseback,
Who started cleaning Darfur.
Their dishrags bloody
And their hearts like arrows
Cleaning out the blacks
Wiping off the Africans
A guaranteed long lasting solution.

And in a land called Europe,
They whispered
Did you hear?
There’s a holocaust going on
Yes, 2009- today, now,
since 2003
And it’s worse
But none heard the whisper

Because they played the
Celebrity buzz and coolness rating and fantasy films
Too loud.
And the big people with the money and
The Word said,
“Oh, let’s leave them be.
They’re far too innocent,
Far too pure for news like this”

So that’s how I came to be,
ME- Murder H. Death,
And my boys on Darfur,
Who were sent by the president,
Who I call the Janjaweed.

And we cut apart the child (Your sibling?)
Hurled the pieces at the mother
Then we raped the mother (What if she was you?)
And tied up the father
And handed his girl (who could have been you)
A gun with which to kill him (imagine you were him)
And I laughed and laughed and laughed

I laughed at the murder, the death, the rape, the stench, the
Starvation, the disease, the lone child’s cries
We laughed at the baby, dying on the dump
The mother weeping for a drop of water
The grandmothers and grandparents with no way to move
The fathers shamefully hiding in shadows

And laughed more at the
Grown-up babies in front of the TV’s,
Still watching the divorce, the marriage, the scandal
The video game, the Nike shoes,
The romance movie with maids and sweets

And hundreds of suitors
So that’s how I came to be,
M. Holocaust Death

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