social class

SOCIAL STRATIFICATION

WROTE THIS WITH A LOT OF ANGER. NOT SURE IF i AM ANY MORE PEACEFUL THAN THOSE I WROTE ABOUT…

What makes a war?

I get it when you say

Young men

And now young women

Should refuse to carry a gun

But that is victim-blaming

War is a social class problem

Poor youth, no job, no education

Join the service and the government

Pays for college, food, shelter

You get the magic beans for the price of your life

Mystery fans know

That murders are solved

By figuring out

Who benefits

Look at the many suspects:

Military-Industrial Complex

Super wealthy want war

Winning territory or oil

Politicians clamoring

For more

Reelection under the guise of patriotism

Most misunderstood word in the

English language

Bankers line their dragon-caves with gold

War enables merchants to become wealthier

Junk yard dealers selling rusted metal for weapons

Factories producing uniforms from fabrics

So-called food needed in cans and plastic packages

Benefits the huge farming conglomerates

Journalists who no longer report the truth

Ignoring the Double-Yous of

Who, What, Where, When, Why

Just talking, pretty faces of ignorance

Snapping soon-to-be photoshopped

Award-winning pictures of children

Blown to bits

But never lifting their voices to just say STOP

And the grieving goes on for

Spouses, partners, children

For aging grandparents and parents

Losing their babies to

Death, dismemberment or

Post-trauma hauntings of the mind

War is a class-thing

And as always

The lower class pays the highest

Retail price

Who is the enemy?

Most are like us

Wanting to shop on Ebay or Amazon

Wanting to rock out to current music

Wanting to love and laugh in nature

Caveat:

Don’t hate the Arabs

Don’t hate the Israelis

Don’t hate the Irish

Don’t hate the British

Don’t hate the Africans

Don’t hate the Hispanics

The victims are people like me

And you

Any more I tremble from

Lightning strikes in my back yard

House-shaking from thunder

But no way can I ever comprehend

A baby’s fear

As bombs explode

Interrupting their dreamy sleep

Waking, screaming

Because the boogie man isn’t

Hiding under the bed

Or in the closet

The boogie man is flying through the sky

Infiltrating to make them die

Physically, spiritually

So the survivors grow up

Losing their humanity

Whatever the current definition is

For that old-fashioned word

I look at my box of Sixties souvenirs

Peace necklaces that still retain

My sweat and tears

From my bleeding seventeen-year-old heart

ERA badge from the Eighties

Equal Rights Amendment

I campaigned for it

But women told me

They didn’t want to share a bathroom with men

Sound familiar, trans-gender people?

Homo sapiens

So unwise

TV has muddled the mind

That really needs to be nourished

Like a feed-the-masses sprout

Reaching toward the sun and rain

Instead of being blindingly

Dazzled by the beautiful and rich

Brainwashing the audience

Dictating what people should think

All geared to elevate those

Ruled by greed and gluttony

Go inward and contemplate what is really important in each precious life…

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: My peace jewelry worn when idealism existed