Category Archives: Sarah M. Zang

The Real World

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A Poem by Sarah M. Zang

Contrived,
this patch of barren ground,
this poisoned realm where dreams
have curled like dead leaves seared
before their time,
but not by sun nor season.
All has fallen

to a race begun
by corporations enthroned in silica
and steel temples where the gods
wear names like Diamond Shamrock,
Dow, Hercules, Monsanto, TH Agriculture,
Thompson Chemical and Uniroyal;
the word settlement is antithetical.

In the real world
trees take on the myriad hues
of fall, frost is ripening the pumpkins;
the lawnmower is in the shed.
Swirling leaves whisper
‘Bring a sweater’
It’s that time of year.

Somewhere life and death decisions,
about the latest ad or the latest fashions,
are being made. Stores are rearranging
shelves in celebration of the season
that digs the deepest in our hearts
and pocketbooks. Somewhere a bomb
is dropping; a mother is rocking her babe,
shushing the crying that the enemy might hear.

Glass and concrete,
suburban lawns with blight,
sad hearts and glad. Dreams
and wishes and reality: These things
are conceived by you and me.
The real world is the turning of the trees,
the swirling leaves.

This patch of barren ground
is contrived by greed, manipulated
like twisted genes and ecosystems run amok,
Reality is that if we break we pay;
what price is this? Time now
for the gods to pray.
Peace.

Greed

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A Poem by Sarah M. Zang

The wrath of all the seasons past
falls fast upon this gloomy day,
There’s not a single ray of sun
seen to mingle with dire deeds done.

Monsanto and Dow Chemical
would burn our parent planet bare,
Their malevolent corp’rate play
leaves a scarred and oozing pathway.

The titan fist of tyranny
breaks rapidly the might and mind
of those entrapped by luck and fate
and backwash of an awful hate.

The dollar wields a green fed greed
that does not yield to hope nor dread.
When price is up and profits mount
the miser’s happy with the count,
 
but when bull turns bear the pennies
pinch; Shylock gives not one scant inch.
The piper comes to claim his pay,
it matters not the time nor day.
 
Agent Orange convicted now,
exposed, this evil criminal
of  battles fought on distant soil,
atrocities that still despoil.

The tired men toil with tears and sweat,
beat long before they bid or bet.
The pound of flesh as promised then,
once took with blood, now bleeds again.

I won’t be drinking tea with Monsanto or Dow Chemical

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A Poem by smzang (Sarah M. Zang)

First year English
and already they can say forgive.

They have forgiven
but can we? The travesty
of spraying agent orange
to further peace;
translate that please.

It’s Sunday
and the sun is shining here,
I’d drink my tea in peace,
trace the steam rising
towards the ceiling fan,

Monsanto
and Dow chemical all around me.
I shiver at my ignorance.
They make our luxuries
and with the other hand

they poison the planet. I
will do without them.
It’s about more than forgiving;
it’s making sure
it can never happen again.

This was written after a visit to a website about Agent Orange. One thing led to another and first thing you know, I was reading as much as I could about the chemical and about Project Agent Orange, a project that buttresses my faith in human beings.

A good place to begin (it has links to a lot of differnent sites plus some really great poetry) is:

http://projectagentorange.homestead.com

Also:

http://smzang.wordpress.com/2012/06/24/agent-orange-sometimes-truth-and-beauty-take-winding-paths-to-meet/