If You See Something, Say Something

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We need your help as an extra set of eyes and ears.
Unattended bags? Suspicious behavior?
Take notice of people in bulky or inappropriate clothing.
Report anyone tampering with video cameras or entering unauthorized areas.
If you see something, say something.

I see something.
I see a criminally insane person roaming the halls of the White House.
He believes he's the president of the United States.
And I see a rotund bastard with a heart problem hovering in the background, pulling the strings.
His crooked smile lights the way to perdition.

In the early morning chill I see the streets of New York filled with people on their way to work.
We think we're home free because John Ashcroft retired.
No more red alerts, no more terrorists disguised as tourists worming their way into town.
No more dirty bombs left in suitcases in Grand Central.
Little do we know. Little dare we surmise.

As the rotund bastard with the heart problem said the other day, "You know, it's not an accident that we haven't been hit in four years."
What's that supposed to mean? That sooner or later he'll feel threatened enough to push the hot button again?
And when he does will he be in his secret, climate-controlled tunnel half-way between D.C. and Wyoming?
Far from the narrow, dark canyons of Manhattan?

If you see something, say something.
I see something.
I see the forgotten anthrax killers whose bioweapons source was not al-Qaeda but our own American arsenals.
I see no global war declared on Fort Detrick or the Dugway Proving Grounds, no troops deployed, no actions taken.
Our attention always focused somewhere out there (Iraq, North Korea, Iran), never in here.

If you see something, say something.
I see a billion dollars a week spent on this war rather than the two billion a year needed to lock down leaking Russian nuclear facilities.
I see the US military buying anthrax in violation of treaties limiting the spread of bioweapons.
I see nanotech embraced for mirage medical cures while its use for surveillance and control is ignored.
I see all of us innoculated into a state of permanent low-level paranoia.

If you see something, say something.
I see something.
I see our Supreme Leader in the Oval Office fondling "the football," the top-secret suitcase with instructions to blow up the planet.
Sixteen years after the Berlin wall fell I see thousands of hydrogen bombs still on hair-trigger alert in Russia and the USA.
I see forty of those bombs aimed at New York City.

If you see something, say something.
I see our protective coating of ironic distance sheilding us from the truth.
Over the phone I hear "Have a nice day," and "Please speak to the system."
And in the stores, behind the Christmas carols, I hear the whine of black helicopters making the world safe for democracy.
"Freedom!" I bark, and a miniature poodle on a leash barks back at me.

I see something.
I see the US holding the world for ransom.
Again and again the same words keep surfacing: "the national interest, the national interest, the national interest."
Reptilian brains having a toxic reaction to testosterone.
Plunging us all into the icy waters of selfish calculation.

If you see something, say something.
I see this trashed-out culture of ours approaching the wall.
Plant and animal species disappearing at warp speed.
Soil turned to dust, aquifers drained dry.
And I see it's too painful to go there.

It's too painful to go there, I'm headed outside for a smoke.
It's too painful to go there, I'm busy learning Italian.
It's too painful to go there, my therapist told me to stay positive.
She said that whatever I experience is up to me, that I create my own world.
My guru said the same thing.

But it's funny, no matter what they say I keep seeing this weirdness out of the corner of my eye.
I see undercover agents on every transport platform, watching over my fellow Americans strapped into bucket seats.
I see my fellow Americans weighed down by schedules and cellphones and computers and wristwatches.
I see their children swallowing pharmaceuticals to get through the day.
While in nearby fields the birds and animals look on with infinite patience, waiting outside of clock time for us to burn out and disappear.

(The yellow-throated warbler singing, "Is that the best you can do?
Best you can do?"
"Is that the best you can do?")

I see something.
I see arbitrary national borders separating us from our humanity.
I hear the siren song of nationalism driving us onto the rocks.
9/11 and the war in Iraq no more than red herrings distracting us from this fact.
Cause Iraqis are people just like us. How can their deaths be worth less than ours?

I see it's time for us to take a look in the mirror.
Notice the frightened children in there, wondering how they got into this mess.
Realize there's no one in the whole wide world to blame.
Decide to risk everything and open our hearts.
That's the one thing against which the rotund bastard has no defense.

If you see something, say something.
I see that even though my therapist charges a hundred and seventy-five an hour and my guru has a lifetime free pass, maybe they're right.
I'm responsible for what's happening to me.
My beliefs create my experience.
Otherwise why am I swallowed up in rituals of mutual self-destruction while outside a sweet wind blows through the trees?

Cause I see two wolves fighting in my heart, one vengeful and the other compassionate.
Which one will I feed today?
Will I behave as if the god in all of life matters?
Or will I come after you, blaming and accusing?
Which one will I feed today?

Comments

I see something, too

 

I see something, too.

I see flashbang orchestrated twenty-four hour propaganda machines

spinning our minds until we're too dizzy and stupid to move.

 

Current events in a sweet honey-glaze reduction,

pop infotainment and fatuous opinion sold as fair and balanced objectivity.

 

I see movie theaters jam-packed and public libraries full of homeless people.

 

I see mind-forged manacles, handcuffs on mushroom gods, and Big Tobacco metastasizing in yellow-brown towers...

 

I see federal prisons gorged on nonviolent drug offenders. The land of the free, our proud superlative--

-- a classier ring than "land with the world's highest incarceration rate"...

 

;)

st

powerful punch

Thank you, Michael. Your poem packs quite a wallop. I hope you'll take it out in public, to poetry readings, picnics, subway platforms. If each of us says what we see---wow!

Good stuff!

I was just in airports in three or four countries - forgive me, it was a grand trip - and these signs are everywhere.

 

But the longest, hardest looks I got by an official, were those I received coming back to my own country - from the tightly-wound early 20s she-something in customs/immigration in Seattle.

She was itching to tackle and tie me for whatever she hoped, dreamed or imagined I was trying to sneak in in my backpack.

I was carrying nothing, except some clean, and some dirty clothes, and the digital photos I'd taken,

http://www.flickr.com/photos/liamsphoto/

and then, the experiences I'd gone for - that idea of seeing and learning and getting beyond your own culture -

Something I suppose we're not really into anymore!

I had hoped for a handshake, a hug (no, not really), but at least a 'Welcome Back! Good to have you home? How was it?'

To which I could cry, "I'm so glad to be here! Jesus Christ, who do I have to shoot for something I can eat that won't kill me!"

And other warm-hearted, gee-whiz, xenophobic banter that grips you when you realize you don't have to check the dictionary three times to know what you are saying.

But, no. Coming home to America was to be alerted to the fact that leaving, even for a soul-expanding, mind-broadening visit, is a suspicious act.

 

 

And ST - loved your follow-up poem in comments, very strong.

Hate that logo - liked this poem much

I'm on the Metro North train right now, and that stupid logo above along with the announcements every 5 minutes "subject to search by the MTA police blah blah blah" really angers me.  But, your humor here is relieving.  great essay.

RIght Spot

Clearly there's no better place to read this poem than on a New York City mass transit vechicle, with the city's slogan of paranoia blaring at you from all directions.

It'd be good to arrange a group public reading of the poem inside Grand Central. Could be done as a Flash Mob... 

a-effing-men

finally...someone else who agrees. i HATE those signs...see them EVERYWHERE on the subway and everyone listens to that systematic propaganda message with such obedience, not daring to question it's validity or mode of expression... >_<

flash mob it!

great idea. synchronized thought-bombs....

I loved the poem! In the UK

I loved the poem! In the UK so its the first I have heard of the slogan, but our indoctrination is still very active here so I relate whole-heartedly. Loved the line: "While in nearby fields the birds and animals look on with infinite patience, waiting outside of clock time for us to burn out and disappear." It really reminds us how insane we have become when held up against our other DNA relatives. Also the line in the reply caught me: But, no. Coming home to America was to be alerted to the fact that leaving, even for a soul-expanding, mind-broadening visit, is a suspicious act. I have heard some pretty bad things about the modern US customes experience, and that backs up the tales. I remember my own experience travelling through the US on to Trinidad. Our connecting flight had left due to a delay with our flight. My father and older brother had UK passports and were free to wander of outside and look around, whilst myself and my sister were travelling on my mothers Trinidadian passport. We were locked in a tiny hot room with other 'undesirable' immigrants and travellers from scorned nations. I found it absolutely shocking and disgusting. "If you see something say something". I cant beleive you guys have that police state mantra being drummed into you, it smacks directly of the informer culture in the old USSR. "Become a detective of existence" - Prem Wat

Nice..

Great message.. truth is, we must look to ourselves to change things...

Amongst The Ruins Of Ego City

Your poem's right on target. Bravo! There's a couple of guys out there in the infosphere posting some glad music. I was reminded of their song 'Amongst The Ruins Of Ego City', they're called THUNK and you can listen to that song at http://www.myspace.com/creativesense Peter S. James (vocals & lyrics) Matt Lord (music & vocals) are the perpetrators of that song which sums up the human condition and history (and possible future?) in verse and music. Thanks for the topmost meme-gen stuff posted here. Great place, great reads!

today is 9/11 i remember

today is 9/11 i remember living in new york and that sunny day in 2001 when i saw smoke and papers falling outside the door of my brooklyn apt. and f-15's circling real low and loud. this is beautifully written and heart-wrenching and sums up all i have been feeling today as i look back and remember that day. sometimes i see hope and sometimes none.