The Monsanto Man
by Jon Rappoport
April 6, 2015
the faces at the bar just want the news
smooth lines
a little dip here, a little wave there
you know, professional
sleep
music is playing
some old sentimental country tune
“she left him” “he left her” whatever the hell it was
3am stumbling from his seat to the bathroom
Jack is counting his change
that’s all he’s got left
after The Company raped his land
giant superweeds are all Jack’s got left
so Jack sprays Paraquat and 24d on the weeds
la la la
he has to buy new seeds every year from Monsanto
la la la
(and when The Man found Jack had inadvertently used Roundup Ready seeds without paying for them he sued Jack)
la la la
3am stumbling back to his seat at the bar
Jack still doesn’t know what hit him
the tune keeps playing
“he left her” “she left him” whatever the hell it was
the faces at the bar look at Jack
they have no idea what he’s been through
the faces at the bar are watching the news replay
another drone attack
baby diapers
restless legs
neutralize stomach acid
invisible makeup
GE, Pfizer, Glaxo, Syngenta
“he left her” “she left him” whatever the hell it was
one drunk at the end of the bar says “it’s a strange night”
everybody stops and listens
they don’t know it but they’re hearing a giant wave of poison coming out of St. Louis
towering above
the plains
So deep, so blue the night
so quiet
there’s a painting hanging above the bar
a man wearing a cowboy hat
his lips curled in an old sneer
Jack holds up his hands
and says
“my family was on this land for a hundred years
do you know what that means
do you know what that means every day
and now the lights go off
the lights go off
they want me to sell
I fell for their pitch
they took me to the cleaners”
numb faces at the bar
listen to the sound of the rising wave of poison
they don’t know what Jack means
but they get the gist
a woman screams
everybody can hear rain on the metal roof like bullets
“he left her” “she left him” whatever the hell it was
the bartender says, “yeah, well, my ass hurts”
and everybody starts laughing
they laugh
&laugh
tears roll down their cheeks
they pound their heads on the bar
they fall off their stools
they roll on the floor
they’re yelling and picking up chairs and throwing them
and now the President comes on the news and says
“we’re all in this together”
a TV news crew busts in with lights
the TV reporter a brittle blonde with skinny legs says out of nowhere as she looks around the room, “man, I need some action tonight”
then she addresses the bar
“are we talking about a death machine here, people? or do you want me to keep it polite? shall we all skate and pretend it’s good? shall we sit down and have a meeting and analyze what’s happening and deliver a report?…”
people in the bar stare at the camera for a long time…
then they say
death machine
they say death machine
“he left her” “she left him” whatever the hell it was
the tune ends
who are the soldiers who go out into the fields of America and Africa and Asia
and South America to push food
changed forever
into the mouths of wasting humans
pockets empty
Jack walks out of the bar into the rain
and moves along the road
under the sky
and begins to stride
his pulse picks up
a
human but more than an ordinary human on the earth
Jon Rappoport
The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at NoMoreFakeNews.com or OutsideTheRealityMachine.
WOW! Somebody should make a song out of this post.
It would become a real hit.
… and the changes
come down,
veiled in a paradox,
without a sound…
The GMO Blues: http://personalhealthfreedom.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-organicular-blues.html
Great! Now it only needs music and a signer.
Yes, who are the soldiers? Most are true believers, I’m sure, just like all good soldiers. They couldn’t do what they do otherwise. Most are very adept at tuning out the words of unbelievers.
Your not only a gentleman, but a poet. mahalo sir.
a fine poem
in the western romantic tradition
intertwined with such great poems as Whitman’s “on the beach at night,” when i heard the learned astronomer”, Matthew Arnold’s “dover beach.”
Jon, when you want pictures of all of it, just say when.