the smiling machine

I saw, but surrendered

to the skeletons telling me not to look.

The wind curling above the dust,

beckoned my heart and it ached.

It swirled the dust road of the trailer park,

then like a sympathetic ghost

hovered above the old mother’s head.

She was holding her face crying silently

not knowing I could see her

the tri-folded letter

taken with the breeze.

I knew there was no comfort,

none that I could give

because I did not know that particular pain,

but I knew from what her pain derived,

I knew why her hands must collect her tears,

I knew why her hands would never dry.

 

Once,

not too long ago,

my daughter and I were learning from each other.

She was learning to drive my pickup 

along roads I drove when I was her age.

The leaves were changing like she and I were. 

I decided it was time,

and I began to tell her the sinister ways they taught me

to rob the blood from my enemy,

terrible and heinous ways to rid men of their limbs 

and sanity,

how easily flesh can tear, 

how eyes lose their stare 

once they are removed from one’s head.

She pulled over, nearly crying,

and asked me why I told her these things.

I looked into her swelling eyes and told her...

Man’s screenplay has no white hats;

The machine is a salesman in the disguise of a w***e.

At no time should you hold its hand. 

It will trick you and send you to a rich man’s war.

 

I stepped back into my trailer,

slowly glanced back at the grieving mother.

In a surreal moment I sent her condolences silently.

I knew when they gave her the letter 

she would be in a bad dream forever.

I wondered how she took it

when her son approached her,

when he told her...

If she crossed her arms or silently conceded,

as he left her with a smile over his shoulder

in his perfectly pressed uniform

carried away by the machine

clutching him gently in its teeth.

Reviews

[paul sal.....]

fathers cry too...............................................

[marcus]

The smiling machine, the system that envelopes us and takes us to our untimely deaths. Awesome, really liked it!!

[Anahat]

Lovely write!
Absolutely loved it :)

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

the world is such a fickle b***h...so hungry for your wounds. chewing each limb like it's last. meal. Only when you seek the glory of salvation does it spit you out and scream at you. The circle begins again....round and round she goes....your right Love NEVER has dry hands, deep breaths, or a rhythmic stable beat. As so many times before...your words leave me gritty...I ache and I twist....I recall all the times I thought I was living. Peace to you dear brother, I hope all is well.

[Beccy]

A difficult, gritty subject, tackled in the gentlest of manners, and all the more powerful because of it. I like in particular the way you wove that lesson to your daughter into the poem, made her see the reality, the horror of conflict.

The human stain lies everywhere, and this beautiful planet is all the worse for it.

Beccy.

[Bright Ocean Star]

Xavier, I had to read this one twice, and in certain places, I had to re-read it to grasp the full import of what you were communicating. It is true. You've expressed a very powerful lesson in these lines. Our federal war machine is definitely smiling, and they gather impressionable young men into their gears and spit them out. Largely, there is nothing a mom can say or do with a son who is intent on serving his great country. However unpleasant, we need those volunteers to stand on that wall and defend and protect us. But, it is oh so important to communicate the "salesman in the disguise of a w***e".
We just hope and pray that our leaders are on the right side and making honorable, intelligent decisions.
They need our prayers. Those mothers getting letters and those young sons and daughters, for you are right. There are no white hats. Great writing, my friend....

[emmajoy]

' Man’s screenplay has no white hats; - The machine is a salesman in the disguise of a w***e. - At no time should you hold its hand. - It will trick you and send you to a rich man’s war .'

The smiling machine? Yes, i know your intention with those words.. but, dear Lord, i couldn't smile through this, just choked up .. had to stop, inhale, read again.

This is .. a near anti-war piece as ever written and read in recent times. Displays both sides of that awful thing called Life and Loss. The way you write is beautiful, sympathetic, but behind that is the awfulness of what Man does, what he causes, how he is. Still living in a cave.

[Confuser]

I really enjoyed it. You are a wonderful writer x.silver - the smiling machine is always there; great title and I love the theme; humanity's pain delivers a powerful blow; and we grow - in the beginning the character, it's apparrent he's felt it, wonderful metaphors & I loved the surprise: Man’s screenplay has no white hats; The machine is a salesman in the disguise of a w***e. At no time should you hold its hand. It will trick you and send you to a rich man’s war. I could write a page detailing, this line or that; about how much I love this. Bravo: Dale

[Lydia Shutter]

A tragic situation. The poor mother will never come out of the darkness now that her son is gone....an unthinkable sadness. Your words are honest and emotive and provoke thought....which is what good poetry should do. Wonderful work. Lydi**

[h d e rushin]

I wonder sometimes x, what patriotism really means. (and please don't mention that we talked about
this) but is it that all-or-nothing, risk everything kind of combat strategy that individuals adhere
to when being destroyed with some semblance of honor is permissible? War is the worse that
mankind can admit to. And you x can still walk into the lush fields of Virginia and find the bones
of Union and Confederate soldiers still intertwined with growing tobacco and asparagus plants.
Was it no better way to solve grievance than to pick up arms?

This was wonderfully expressed sir. You write always with this earthy passion and a desire
to say "look at this, now see what this has done".

dana