THIRTEEN/WNET New York presents SREBRENICA: A CRY FROM THE GRAVE

There’s festering green schlep
On the cream cheese for my bagel
I stare at the gunk on the knife
It smells like STD spirit
Empathy ugliness
And no one wants to eat you.
To the garbage—yet another bill
My internal moanologues
Drowning out PBS
Something about Srebrenica
Remember that?
Catch a glimpse
I feel cursory shallowness
Watching hungry armless children

Crumbs lodge in toothy gaps
BOTHERSOME!
My daily neurosis
Often in competition
With too-thin unloved blondes of soperas
WINS!

Srebrenica
Is beginning to hurt my eyes.
But I, Validation Junkie
Am unwilling to take the blame
Of changing the channel.
It is so easy to go in one direction and then,
Still go there.
An uninterested life,
Suddenly caked
In jaundiced cream cheese.

NEEDED:
Brisk
Cleansing
Walk
Outside
In unprecedented 8 degrees
Do not attempt to remove internal thermometer

Ha Ha Ha Ha
I heave
Dry, phlegm-less vomit
Rib cage hurts
Shoulders sag

Conventional wisdom
Seek Annan’s manhood
Defy the figurehead, Brother
Resuscitate the organization
Keep peace
Don’t enforce it!

OUT! OUT! SPOT I SAY!

30 Peacekeepers > 30,000 Muslims
Mozlems, Mozlems, who are they??
NATO fashionably late
To this Slabomêlée
The request was on a wrong form
Fuel was thirsty
Meanwhile,
Let’s triplicate!
Punctual Milosevic
When merciful
Shot us down
In the streets

The __ Clock Bombing

A camcorder’s vision of sitting on one’s hands.

YA HUSSAIN…
You are far too good-looking!
Who could cleanse your ethnicity?
So much for the home court advantage
And of being male!

Let the children be
Passports to freedom
From everything.
But what about Aicha my rabbit Ma?
Ma?
Let’s smoke the peace cigarette.
Ma I am hungry, and it is getting cold here.
Ma?

I won’t be your last cigarette UN Enforcer!
Keep standing
Arms folded in supplication
Drink my wine
Remain!
Undoing
You instill the power in the Rat King.

Control S
Allah wont save You
23,000/30
We, who, even paid for the fuel
Will not survive this, Gloria…
Side Airbags: that is the answer to everything.

Srebrenica
A promise on paper napkins
Made over drinks
In a silent forest
While we ran for cover
40 mile > 15, 000 Marchers
Where is the promised homeland?
Presents exchanged
Heinekens tossed
Danced in the puke blue caps
Muscling legs

We, here
We, made dinners
WE, FAILED

7,414 men no longer exist.
Only 70 have been identified
And returned to families.

Why can’t I rid my mouth of mold?