Dressing The Living Dead and other 100 word vignettes


As the soldier walked over an IED
His young soul was burned
For his uniform
Manufactured back in his homeland
Was a totem
Designed for his enemies
Who remain unknown,
To others and to themselves.

An unknown poet travelled from Paris to Baghdad to sing this soldier’s praises, and he fell among fanatics in the desert, who beat him to near death. A struggling entertainer, passing by saw him, and remembered compassion. He went to him and bound up his wounds, and then he took the poet to a hotel to recuperate leaving him there, but not his words.



And they stripped the politician naked
And clothed him
In tracksuit daks and t-shirt
And for awhile
He pretended he was ordinary,
One of the people.
Then a sorcerer revived him
And he felt dead no more.

The sorcerer’s name was Byron. He practiced magic in the city and amazed the people with his tricks, saying that he was somebody great. His audience paid attention to him, from the poorest to the richest, saying, “He is the power of Gandalf whom is called the Great.” And they paid attention to him because he does it for the greater good.



Around the totem of the dollar
Dance men and women
Singing revolutionary songs,
For abundance
Does not come without luck
Nor without the inadequacy
Of the poor
Who cannot dance for more.

And faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. By faith they see that money does grow on trees, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible. By faith greed is religion, so that it nurtures wealth, and it was not found elsewhere, because these swindlers are likely to take that as well.



When the green effigy says go
Pedestrians should walk straight
And not amble
Lest the course
Of their lives
And the future of their dreams
Balks and turns back.

But all who worship green effigies at any corner end up with nothing, and the things they delight in do not profit. Who would fashion a god or cast an effigy that is profitable for nothing? Behold those who do shall be terrified; they shall be put to shame together. They become hungry, and their strength fails; they drink no fluids and become faint.



Should the native bird
In the hunter’s sights
Clasp together its claws
In mid flight,
The hunter might turn away
Cross his arms
And cross his legs
And cross his gun with providence.

The hunter shall dwell with the rhino, and the poacher shall lie down with the young elephant, and the criminal and the lion and the fattened sow walk together; and a little child shall lead them. The nursing child shall play over the empty rounds of the hunter, and the weaned child shall put a hand in the poacher’s hand and in the criminal’s hand.



For warring armies to succeed
In the deserts of the Middle East
Their leaders must be motionless
In their fortresses,
For if they move
The turbulence from their argument
Will rise
And their grunts will be destroyed.

Now that war has arisen anew in Minds, Conscience and its angels fight against Belligerence. And Belligerence fought back hard, defeating Conscience, and there was no longer any place for it in Minds. And Conscience was thrown down to the sands, and its angels were thrown down as well. Common Sense followed, as did Empathy, and Anxiety now spreads beneath the sands.


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