Switzerland

It's a flat land,
come to think of it:
Obelix was right.
A flat land
where flat people fall
flat
on their faces
lap up their own vomit
and say 'delicious'.
I think they think it's cheese.
So smile and raise a cheer:
Switzerland is flat.

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An open end-note from Geneva

And so the caravans came to Geneva,

all self-righteous

all all-knowing,

some with bucks

and some with heart,

some naïve and some sly,

they came to try, they came to hang,

they came as judge and jury

and I went too

to say my piece

to part-pay debt

to stand with Varathan

my 3-wheeler friend

who lost his pregnant wife

and unborn twins,

in the name of the assassinated

the unnecessary dead

the inevitable wounded

the years lost

and the memories that will not be recalled,

to remember a that-time

and be grateful for a now,

in the name of my daughters

and a future they must breathe and walk on.

There’s a vote to be taken, I am told,

there’s a nation and a people

who fought for 500 years;

I hear they are ready to fight

500 more,

If they have to.

Geneva is cool

but nothing beats my country:

Sri Lanka.

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The Ballad of Staff Sergeant Robert Bales

Staff Sergeant Robert Bales,

I hear you were traumatized,

and they even say

‘apparently deranged’

they’ve called you a rogue soldier,

and you such a decorated one too,

you’ve gone on a rampage,

committed ‘an act of madness’,

so much like your brothers

who ‘went nuts’ in Haditha

or the deranged Baruch Goldstein

whose insanity-count was 25

in Hebron,

but you went postal in Kandahar

and that’s not new, we know

for what’s a dozen-or-so

after Hiroshima and Nagasaki

and the sanity-driven blood-rush

that turned cities into rubble

territories into cemeteries

governments into puppets?

But tell me Bob,

they say you saw a comrade lose his leg

and that was how you lost it all,

is this true?

I heard some numbers, so I’ll share:

32 legs, 32 arms, 32 eyes, 32 ears, 32 lungs, 32 kidneys

16 tongues, hearts, livers,

several hundred intestinal feet

160 toes, 160 fingers

millions of dreams

countless memories

pride, fear, hope and other intangibles

like yours, of course,

but magnified in the necessary arithmetic

of dismissal and justice-extraction;

and that’s still nothing, Bob

for we are talking of continental shifts

movement of arms

the collateral of plunder

 the thunder of spin

no, brother,

you are not as random

as those you killed

you can say that to those who will try

and exonerate

you can tell

‘No Ms Clinton,

You can’t say that I am not who you are,

for I am you

toe for toe, leg for leg, heart for heart

I am Barack and every senator

every congressman

I am every American of the United States,

                            who sees and looks away,
I am US Foreign Policy

I am US Military Strategy

I am the zero-tolerator of terrorism

I am agent and plan,

execution and whitewash

I am Uncle Sam,

through and through.’

And that, brother Bob

is your defense,

not to the friendly court

but the appalled and knowing world. 

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