Monsanto Thanksgiving

A Poem by M.Lapin

The CEO said he was thankful for the greed they sowed,
the money spent on mislabeling, corrupting editors,
purchasing journals and scientific research to change results,
and he hoped the people advocating for those with Agent Orange would go away…

Then Thanksgiving dinner was served in the Monsanto cafeteria located in St. Louis.
Most of the food served was organic.*


Monsanto Scientist in Hospice

A Poem by Donal Mahoney

He wants to do certain things
he should have done before old
age and illness reaped their harvest.

The doctor gives him days
perhaps a week to breathe
but he can’t remember what

he wanted to do before Monsanto
hired him as master chef to
prepare and serve prey.

The firm still raves about his work
in Vietnam where Agent Orange
remains first marinade today.

Children Of Vietnam Veterans Health Alliance | Agent Orange Survivors

“If we fail to realize that March Against Monsanto is not about GMOs alone, then we have already lost the battle.”Kelly L. Derricks

Let us also honor the children and grandchildren and even the great grandchildren who too suffer the affects of Agent Orange. They may not be veterans, but they have to live with the problems the veterans brought home unknowingly from the American War (Viet Nam War). They too should be honored on Veterans Day.

from the members of Project Agent Orange and Children of Vietnam Veterans Health Alliance, COVVHA


A Poem by Stefanie Bennett

‘remembering Monsanto and Dow Chemical’

You arrive wearing your fatigue like a uniform.
Your face pale, the texture of wax.
Your feet, Sir –, so swollen the leggings
Won’t give. The tongue’s chafed thus
It lodges
Back, pinned to the mouth’s roof.

I won’t question. That is –, I won’t ask
Who you are or how long you’ll stay.
My study is yours. Yes!
By all means make use
Of the lamp. Also I’ve filled
The pen with ink. Do you
Request a blank tablet?

Of course this visit is confidential. I’ll not
So much as offer a description. We’re
All of us Masters and mules
Of disguise.
You arrive wearing your fatigue

Like a uniform. Now what about
The beads. The spires…

Veterans Day, 2015

An Essay by Richard D. Hartwell

Project Agent Orange

The first time I was ever thanked for my military service by anyone outside family was in 1985, by a co-worker. This was eighteen years after I returned from Vietnam. The next time was in 2012 when I was in tears in front of the “Moving Wall,” the traveling replica of the Vietnam Memorial, and a fellow veteran, a docent, rolled up in his wheelchair, patted me on the back, and told me, “It’s okay; you’re home now!”

I don’t share this lightly and I don’t want to confuse issues: Memorial Day is a day of remembrance for those who did not “make it back.” Veterans’ Day is in honor of all America’s veterans, past and present. Well, I remember throughout the year those friends I lost and I feel nothing but support and concern for our military members.

But between these two commemorative days, not in space or time, but in meaning and emotion, we are missing acknowledgment of those whose lives have been too early lost or adversely affected by the effects of Agent Orange and its kin. Not just our military members and families but those Vietnamese lives lost and maimed by the effects of all the chemicals used during the American War.

I realize that with the establishment of the Order of the Silver Rose came acknowledgment of the extreme sacrifice of our service members who have died as a result of the deleterious effects of Agent Orange. In no way do I denigrate this award. However, there is little recognition outside the Department of Veterans Affairs for the ongoing suffering of American service members due to the ravages of Agent Orange and little to none for the hereditary defects passed on to veterans’ progeny. Oh! – and none at all for the Vietnamese military, north or south, and civilians and their generations of birth defects linked to Agent Orange.

I do not and would not advocate setting aside a day to commemorate these losses on both sides of the Pacific due to Agent Orange. Such deaths and “wounds” are equally the result of the war waged in the jungles, plains, rivers, blue waters, and air above Vietnam. They should be remembered and commemorated as such; remembered not as collateral damage but as the wages of war.

On this Veterans’ Day, and every Veterans’ Day and Memorial Day as well, remember and celebrate the lives of ALL the victims of war; regardless of country, politics, generation, or the nature of the death or “wounds” received.

Project Agent Orange

To see the original posting on Project Agent Orange’s forum, please click here:

ax tampax

–because of GMOs, Monsanto, and biotechnology

in spirit of challenging and collapsing
the insidious nature of the corporate monster
that gobbles and trashes and fucks us over
in response to the dirty business
we have made this recipe book.
as an act of resistance to the system
that tramples over the homegrown d.i.y. style
we are sick of how they co-opt our life
to spit out into franchises
to over package our needs into taxed luxuries
we are sick of the garbarators
that insists to dismember
we are sick of how it insists to hide
and disguise our experiences
…the mark up they make on their lies

(The Bloodisters, Red Alert #3, circa late 1990s, p. 3).

There may be dioxin in sanitary pads:


A Poem by Stefanie Bennett

[Always remembering Monsanto and Dow]

The dawn is shaded, laced
With assorted inks.
My love, a kind that
Blends well, tells
Of the mighty
High-drunk planets that
Test us

‘Lest we forget’

How maybe the first word
Was poetry – and perhaps
The one and only fire
… Imagination.

My love rises! Flint-lipped
And otherwise elsewhere
Occupied. A new sun
Grows within

The gold eyes…

[Attention Monsanto and Dow.
Compensate your victims].


A Poem by Richard D. Hartwell

My granddaughter makes potions in the backyard.
She uses them to feed the flowers and make mud-pies.
There is innocence to this that augurs the woman to come.

* * *

You make potions, also, of chemicals in lieu of clay and water.
Not offered freely, Monsanto, yours are for gain and greed.
There is no innocence to this that can mitigate your guilt.

Cain, too, struck out on his own east of paradise.

Like any empowered tyrant, you have amassed great wealth.
Your phials: DDT, napalm, dioxin, glyphosate, spliced genes.
For the benefit of Man they’re mixed without malice, I’m certain.

Pilate, too, washed his hands as the crowd raged.

Corporate moral flexibility yields to euphemistic bombast.
You claim un-intentionality just like any friendly fire.
Collateral damage exceeds a million and still grows.

St. John, too, knew what the end would be like.