February 11, 2024

When I was with Sea Shepherd before I was ousted, I was told over and over again to not have opinions on religion, politics or culture so as not to offend supporters. Each and every time I posted about genocide, about the racist residential schools in Canada or about pipelines running through native land or the on-going tragedy of missing Native Americans I was told I would be upsetting donors. I was told to stick to saving whales and dolphins, to not write or post poems that might offend some people.

I have never shied away from offending people who needed to be offended and I have always held a firm commitment to calling out abuse to children, to animals and to nature. There can be no exceptions. Over and over I have said that that there can never be any justification for killing or harming a child by any person, for any reason, anywhere for any reason.

Just as I have said for decades there can never be a justification for the killing or harming of any whale or dolphins for any reason by anyone, anywhere.

I have had two of my poems removed in the past by Facebook and I was punished for both with restrictions.

I have had people call me antisemitic for having compassion for children.

I have been called antisemitic for supporting Jewish Voices for Peace and I will probably be called the same for this poem.

Artists cannot have our voices silenced by politics, religion or the opinions of others.

I’ve also been told that my poetry is subversive. I certainly hope so.

This poem is dedicated to 6 year old Hind Rajab who died with her family and first responders in Gaza last week

THE SWIRLING MISTS OF MADNESS

Within the swirling mists of madness,

I hear the cry of a child. 

A cry of desperation. 

Her pain pierces my heart.

I do not know her.

And yet I do. 

No father. 

Mother.

None.

I don’t know this innocent child. 

I ‘ve never met this little girl.

And yet I murdered her. 

Voted for her killer, 

Paid for the weapons. 

She died alone.

They don’t care.

Her killers,

Freed.

In the name of some archaic god,

A ruthless, angry, silly god. 

A god meaningless to me. 

Taxes for genocide. 

Do I have a choice?

No choice at all,

Yet I pay,

For Death.

Now.

Yes,

I am,

Complicit.

As are we all.

We’re forced to support,

The murder of children, 

By war mongering leaders, 

Like senile Genocide Joe, 

Scrubbing away the blood with our flag.

Guilt 

Just needs, 

Deflecting.

Perfect scapegoats.

Palestinians. 

The children of Gaza. 

So, let’s do it all again. 

Vows Germany’s Annalena. 

The Arabs must die for our past sins.

We 

Who live, 

And reside, 

In the safety 

Of America. 

Horrific history,

Guides our hand, ignores our guilt,

We spillers of innocent blood. 

Our nation founded on genocide.