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Shan State Suite: V. The front lines of the war

from The Front Lines of the War by Scott Ezell • Will Klingenmeier

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lyrics

v. The front lines of the war

I was on the front lines of the war
I saw soldiers eating dirt and grass
I saw the women they left behind
and children with flies in their mouths

Livestock wandered through the battle zone
Metal made nests in trees
Mortars and machine guns were pointed at the sky
Soldiers made love after dark
Kitchen boys ate scraps
and waited naked for their uniforms to dry

I heard the arms manufacturers laugh
over paté and wine
I saw them clean blood from their teeth with matchsticks
I saw hair and clothes on fire
while governments sat at 5-star tables to negotiate

I felt wind and water flow across my body
My skin was an embrace of unknown forces
warm and liquid moving through me

The generals comb their moustaches
on the way to the press conference
and spit into handkerchiefs
Their teeth fall out
Their lips and tongues fall off
Their faces fall off
Till only a neck remains
Handlers rush to mold another head
with a doleful expression
to stick on the bloody stump


The general coughs into the microphone and says,
We are following the will of the people
As his mistress gives birth to an angel with bat wings
And his wife buys a thousand dollar purse on Champs-Élysées


I saw grass turn gray like hair
I saw monkeys snug neckties and drive to work
to pick fleas from each other’s fur
I heard rain on a metal roof
and animals howling in the slaughterhouse
I heard earthworms chuckle in time
with a symphony of machine gun fire

I saw that to presidents and generals
the earth is a piñata
Beat it like a prisoner till sweet treasures spill
first one to break it open wins


I figured I should try to win the race
I discussed mortgage rates with a loan officer
and calculated percentages
I moved decades like checker pieces square to square
I tracked financial security through the scope of a sniper rifle
and on the radar of a fighter jet
I wanted others to surrender
to quit fighting for what was mine
I forgot that armies killed for what I have
and whole continents died
for the idea of ownership
I bought a lawnmower on the installment plan
it came with a lifetime guarantee
that nothing would ever change


I held an M-16 in my hand
it was light as a plastic toy
I visited temples with shrapnel scars across the walls
I sat on a hilltop watching for gunships to appear
waiting for rockets to bloom across the sky

I met refugees who fled with nothing
but memories of rape and murder
their houses burned by soldiers
animals cooked and eaten
daughters go missing and don’t return

During a lull in battle
I walked across a field
between government and insurgent lines
Villagers were harvesting rice
carrying sheaves of grain on shoulder yokes
sweating in thick hot sun
the guns were silent on both sides

At the dinner table an officer inspected a rifle
and shot a hole in the ceiling
I thought of Frank Stanford and his shotgun
and the three bullets
he fired into his own heart

I heard news reports about a cult of personality—
The new leader could only talk of leadership
and the need for others to follow
but no one had anywhere else to go
or a voice to raise above the sound of marching boots

I heard water flowing in a stream
I remembered everyone I love
I remembered my father
how could I forget since he now fills my body
I traveled to the conflict zone
and now it travels in me
brother to the worms
eating their way through earth

Nothing is distant
in miles or history
Feedback loops of
taxes and invasion
dance in time
with imperatives of perpetual war


You don’t have to pull a trigger
or open the bomb bay doors

refugees and bureaucrats
presidents and secretaries
bank tellers and factory hands
plumbers and golf pros
rice farmers and fashion models

everyone is on the front lines of the war.

credits

from The Front Lines of the War, released August 10, 2021

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Will Klingenmeier Denver, Colorado

An omnivore of sound, lover of monophonic plainchants, noise, and the dérive, Will Klingenmeier has spent the last fifteen years living as a borderline hermit developing a distinct sonic palate. He is a sound artist placing emphasis on indeterminacy, code, field recordings and synthesis. ... more

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