Gadfly Proclaims the International Year of Peace
It
has been agreed by most all scientists (who are not in the pay of
Exxon-Mobil or the Koch brothers) — climatologists to oceanographers to
geologists to botanists and entomologists — that human activity has has
heated Planet Earth wantonly by increasing the greenhouse gases in its
atmosphere. Carbon dioxide (CO2) and methane (CH4) are the two worst
culprits. They are produced principally by burning coal for electric
power plants, drilling for gas and oil, and using gasoline and diesel
fuel for cars, trucks, airplanes and ships. But, not far behind on the
short list of worst offenders are: war and the military preparations for
war. Just compare how many (or few) miles to the gallon you get in your
SUV, with how many gallons to the mile
an F-16 uses every minute. It’s even worse with Navy ships, especially
destroyers (how creatively named). Then add the CO2 when the shells and
bombs and missiles explode. And what pilot of a plane or ship or tank
drives cautiously, using a minimum of fuel?
The Gadfly Revelry & Research team, noting that April was National Poetry Month proposed that April 2017 to April 2018 be proclaimed the International Year of Peace.
The Year of Peace would start with a competition for the best poem of
peace. A vote was taken among the Gadfly membership, and the proposal
was passed unanimously. A priceless, autographed copy of the Lilac Book of Peace—Axioms & Quotes will be awarded to the best poem.
The
members of the GR&R team immediately started at work, and produced
three poems, but were informed that they were ineligible because of
their Gadfly membership. They reluctantly offered their poems as samples
to motivate the vast readership of the Gadfly column.
1) Mild today at seventy two,
gentle winds play chimes
pianissimo, streams add their
continuo, a woodpecker
beats a tremolo
on a leafless tree. Not far from
here, West Point trains the young in
the arts of war to
keep us safe from terror untold.
2) The first flutes, fashioned of
the hollow bones of vulture wings,
forty thousand years ago,
never were a call to
arms, but just for music making,
dance, and sociality.
Millennia on, through
reeds and keys, yet always one with
the glorious art of peace.
3) As primates
are the highest form
of life, I wonder if
it’s all about
opposable thumbs,
or vocal cords, or minds
that thrive on
signs and symbols. Some
say: it’s not the ways we
live, but how
we contend, each with
each, that makes us Us. They
point to all
our glorious wars. I
offer them: bonobos.
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And now, let the competition begin.