Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Earth of Oil Rich Poverty
On the earth of oil-rich poverty, under a bridge still standing, animals grazed on the dead, blistered bodies. The number of war casualties, exceeded the capacity of the nurses and doctors, working 16 hour days in blood stained uniforms. It was war, with no time for poetry.
Barely a moment was left, for a sip of hot tea. The discovery of soil saturated with oil, was at first, a blessing for the southern city. Until, however, major fossil fuel companies determined that profits will increase by the projection of pipelines through the backyards, gardens, graveyards, and ruins of the depleted country.
Massive bombing pulvarized preschool children playing on swings. Cartons of dried milk dropped from the sky, exploding into clouds of powder and smoke, with every landmine that was hit. Families taped dark blankets against windows, to blind the airstrike pilots, from detecting any sign of life. Grandmothers no longer dried cherries on balconies. With a bouquet of tulips and jasmine, Nazanine got married, in the safety of a parking garage underground.
At the end of the bussiness day, began the nightly state of seige. Global economists cheerfully predicted lower prices at the gas pump. Journalists from around the world arrived at the scene in helicopters that chopped up the occasional blue sky, with expensive camera equipment, priding themselves on their own bravery, excited about the prospect of writing the first story.
Barely a moment was left, for a sip of hot tea. The discovery of soil saturated with oil, was at first, a blessing for the southern city. Until, however, major fossil fuel companies determined that profits will increase by the projection of pipelines through the backyards, gardens, graveyards, and ruins of the depleted country.
Massive bombing pulvarized preschool children playing on swings. Cartons of dried milk dropped from the sky, exploding into clouds of powder and smoke, with every landmine that was hit. Families taped dark blankets against windows, to blind the airstrike pilots, from detecting any sign of life. Grandmothers no longer dried cherries on balconies. With a bouquet of tulips and jasmine, Nazanine got married, in the safety of a parking garage underground.
At the end of the bussiness day, began the nightly state of seige. Global economists cheerfully predicted lower prices at the gas pump. Journalists from around the world arrived at the scene in helicopters that chopped up the occasional blue sky, with expensive camera equipment, priding themselves on their own bravery, excited about the prospect of writing the first story.
# posted by BaharMeansSpring @ 2:24 PM 
