Terrorism Again, poem by Thomas Hubbard

    Safe at home, they relax in gentility and decorum.
    They call you a terrorist
    because you defend yourself
    against impossible odds,
    rifles against tanks, and
    occasionally, when their attention lapses
    you give them what they have given you, and
    then they cry out that you are
    unfair, you are monsters,
    you are inhuman, you are terrorists.
    Safe at home, they recount their brave deeds.
    In this land they now call America,
    they did the same to my ancestors,
    natives who were not like them,
    natives who would not be enslaved,
    natives who would not be dispossessed,
    natives who would not suffer corporate filth
    to over-run, suck dry and ruin
    our homeland, our Mother Earth.
    Safe at home, they now garden on stolen land.
    They call this “doing business.”
    They call this “spreading freedom.”
    They call this “Democracy.”
    In private, they call it “huge profits,” and
    safe at home, they laugh as they count the money.


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