Poets Against War continues the tradition of socially engaged poetry by creating venues for poetry as a voice against war, tyranny and oppression.
Hall Gardner
Paris, France
Hall Gardner lives in Paris. He has written numerous books and articles in the effort to prevent global war, Surviving the Millennium (Praeger: 1994) and Dangerous Crossroads (Praeger: 1997). His latest article appeared in the Harvard International Review (Winter 2003). He has published poems in numerous small press anthologies and has just completed his first novel, Tie-Dyed in Blood, plus a longer poem, entitled Dolphin Legend.
Culture Shock (and Awe)
I. A random check. I’m lucky number 10. Mr. Customs Man asks the life or death questions That so perturb the spirit of our Nation:
“Been to a farm, ranch, or pasture? Bringing in fruits, insects, meat, wildlife products, Snails, soil, disease agents, or cell structures… ???"
Thrust upon the treadmill my travel bags Abruptly enter into a black box oblivion Of all-penetrating cosmic rays.
Quickly he unearths emerald flowerpots Looped neatly with silken ribbons filled To the brim with Belgian chocolates.
"Imagine our ‘state of the art’ noses Confusing sausage for Swiss chocolate! And we spent megabucks!"
II. Instruments of French classical musicians Have been denied entry by US customs.
National Public Radio supplicates in its perennial telethon: "Vote with your phone."
Potluck DC potholes have only deepened After my many years as a make-believe Parisian.
III. The gas station attendant Begins his interrogation For no apparent reason:
"I saw you stopping by For gas yesterday. You were going the opposite way. Now you are going that way. Could you tell me What you’re doing? Where you’re going? Some sort of traveling Salesman, or what???"
My head spins with the fumes: I see myself muffled In a bright orange jumpsuit.
IV. It is Sunday, May 11, 2003. The choir in black and white Chant in solemn voices. The politicians sing. I cannot.
The woman minister (this Was not possible in my day!) commands: "Open hymnals to Hymn 616: Hail to the Lord’s Anointed…
He comes to break oppression, To set the captive free, To take away transgression And rule in equity."
V. Alongside the Union Jack and Italian tricolor, "Oh say can you see" flaps before discount liquor stores Where the other 'bleu, blanc, rouge' has simply vanished.
An English beer hall ditty had inspired Francis Scott Key… "And conquer we must when our cause is just. And this be our motto: 'In God is our trust'"…
As America dons the Red Coat of Perfidious Albion, The rifts of Jimi Hendrix’s version have been long forgotten. The refrain is "Love It or Leave It"—all over again.
VI. My departure back to Paris imminent, I unzip the inner lining Of my larger suitcase.
Waxed deli paper unwrapped, Out plummet two objects — thick As sticks of dynamite.
After voyaging clandestine Upon that Christmas cruise to Casablanca, Dakar, and then Barcelona,
Two copper-toned Chorizos Have infiltrated the country With alien cultures,
Having disguised themselves in fuzzy beards Of Red&White&Blue.
A Taste of the Town
Not a smorgasbord Of international delicacies, Nor a buffet Of intricate delights.
Not a swimming pool Of fantasies, Nor jazz beneath A cool September night.
No!
Is the titanium Of slaughtering knives, The toxic gravy Sizzling upon the reactor's core.
Is the gristle and sinews Severed from a human filet, The pinpoint accuracy Of a vampire's stealthy sonar.
