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They love us to death

Reza Faze
August 29, 2005

Western/Northern/First World academics love us to death,
Lots of them love us only dead;
So they can dissect us to study our trends,
To cut open every vein to see, not blood,
But Types, decided categories, cultural(ly inferior) traits.

Western/Northern/First World academia has been studying us,
Preparing, isolating us;
Our voices shattered a millions times, refracted,
Through trained idiots' mouths with access to the jargon well;
The jargon is of their own codification,
So no surprise they recite it well.

'Progress comes with understanding,'
They say, praising themselves.
Each had eyes on us singular-dimensionally; and so,
We gave some anthropology, some archeology,
Others grew from us linguistically, ethnographically, economically,
Racially, IQ-standardized blindly; thence we disappeared.

They love us to death in those departments; to study us,
They fawn for funds from State Department, War Department,
CIA, NSA, National Endowment for Old Fat Farts,
National Trust in No One, National Fund for Destroying Humanity,
National Security Apparatus Looking Out for Number One.

And lots of individuals of a certain class with petty funds,
Pathetically invest in stocks, blood bonds, shares in certified crud,
With profits that rise in proportion to spilt blood;
Individual investors' consciences shut-down in crazed pursuit,
'Give me! Give me money for my baby, for my Rolex, my Armani suit.'

Military-infested stocks rocket as bombs stay dropping,
Precisely on houses hospitals factories sewage systems nurseries,
Schools shops playgrounds bridges with precision unheard of, unseen.
With every precision-bombing, a pre-signed contract sealed.
I heard one individual investor caught herself giddy, confessed-complained,
Post-coughing, 'Well! Why, I must somehow pay for my PhD!'

For letters section
To Reza Faze


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Three volume box set of the Persian Book of Kings
Translated by Dick Davis

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