War Correspondent In a Junkyard [Poem]

War Correspondent In a Junkyard
 http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/8519354.stm


The vet with reddish laser-eyes
Possessed a sign: “Will kill for fuel.”
A tragic end for flying spies
And rifle-bots we don't retool.
I asked the bots about the war.
The Predator? Its circuits smoked—
His pal explained his hardware core
Just broke, his combat role revoked.
The Talon spoke in monotone,
It whirred; it said that war was great—
It knew in war that one must hone
The soldiers pliant, not with hate
Or love—just routine death and gore.
And now we mostly can't stand war,
But bots enjoy what we abhor.


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And Then They'll Nuke the Stars [Today's News Poem, Feb 16, 2010]

And Then They'll Nuke the Stars [Today's News Poem, Feb 16, 2010]

“Adm. Mike Mullen, chairman of the U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff, said a military strike to arrest Iran's nuclear progress remains an option but that the United States prefers to see doubts about Iran's intentions resolved through diplomacy. ”
--By ROBERT BURNS (AP) – 1 hour ago
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5jZl0ZHDPBByIKpxXAI3NcI39Wb8QD9DTENMO0



In space someday a child will play
With micro-nukes: she'll waste her toys,
Her nanite town of buckyballs.
The goddess scorns the dots that pray
She'll spare their lives—she looks for boys;
Forgets the pain of beings as small
To ants, as ants to us.
They die, she makes no fuss.




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So anyhow, my mistress calls. She wants her pound of ink again and I'm not one to deny her. But yes, you are my other master.

Your servant,

-KW




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