SPLAB Mailing Address

Mailing address:

4817 S Lucile St., Apartment B
Seattle, WA 98118
pen (at) splab (dot) org

3 Responses to SPLAB Mailing Address

  1. Jerold Smith says:

    Do you list poetry events be presented in the Seattle area? If so, Poetry Bridge presents Poems & Tales the fourth Wednesday of each month at C&P Coffee Co. in West Seattle. Each month features two readers, followed by an open mic with poets and storytellers. Visit the website for details. Thank you for your time and consideration.

  2. Splabman says:

    What’s the link?

  3. michael hall says:

    Dulce Et Decorum Est III & A Taste of Armageddon
    (or the empire has no clothes but a disposition matrix)

    by michael hall

    In due homage to Horace, Owen and O’Connell i humbly nod
    for how sweet & glorious it must be to kill or die for God & country by pompous duty with dishonor
    so c’mon kiddies, any up for good jingo sport?
    who’s hungry & poor, who wants to play the hubris ‘anything for profit’ killing game?

    As newspapers rah rah their pied pier patriotism with journalistic integrity & objectivity ha ha!
    as a new battle lies just around the corner & armed forces day just weeks away hooray!
    rally loyal citizens to whitewash warm innocuous blood off disgraced musket & sullied polluted flag
    strike up the marching parade manifested by destiny down main street usa hey hey!

    Awaken & open thine eyes chauvinistic folk, come & see your overseas deeds of nefarious brutality
    your liable for this appalling tax-paid violence you’ve exported to hamlets & villages on human beings
    assaulting families who’ve never did you any harm in lands you’ve never heard of, or care less for
    so step on up, one & all, since everyone here is accountable & responsible for this odium

    Take a trip to the overflowing morgues filled with small smashed bodies, once toddlers full of laughter & life
    deeply inhale the rancid stench of scorched flesh crispy burnt to a black bubbly mass by phosphorus
    gaze into doll dead eyes frozen forever by shock & awe renditioned via your God blessed terror from above
    atop a cold gurney a stiff finger of a tiny hand from amidst a pile of mangled flesh pointing at you war supporters

    Watch as grief-stricken fathers zombie-wander in shattered silence
    sifting through ragged debris & devastating destruction searching for lost sons & missing daughters
    discovering ripped wet mangled body parts strewn out as pieces of a human jig-saw puzzle
    taking home the ear, the hand, the foot to be quietly buried

    Harken to the heart-piercing shrieks as soul-torn asunder mothers wail like howling wild animals
    as they find their loves buried, broken & bloody in the rubble of your glorious works
    then if you can, please explain to the unresponsive moaning neonatal orphan
    why your armed forces just murdered his parents…by accident, then wave a condolence payment in his face

    Celebrate as your special op-forces silently & quickly dig our bullets from civilian bodies
    to cover their tracks from being at the wrong address, again & again
    declare as a holiday murdered women at a bridal shower or when 4 kids are droned to smithereens while tending sheep
    rejoice in exported evil exploits as great american victories for which your war crimes always are

    Trust flim-flam, the PR propaganda spin
    praise your taxes which finances anglo-terrorism through illegal & immoral aggressive violence
    raise your false flag ever higher to cover the rising pile where the butchered lie
    however dear good christian citizens, no civic rag could ever soar over the sick slaying of the innocent

    Consider Fallujha surrounded & caged, then the cowering cringing unarmed civilian inhabitants
    shot, burned & barbequed like slaughtered sitting ducks in a ‘free-fire zone’ shooting gallery
    ponder upon your sanctimonious attack at a school in Bajour where 69 children are massacred by joystick
    this is Sand Creek, Wounded Knee, My Lai, Haditha, & other mass-media contorted & distorted great triumphs
    which to no doubt in my mind, the next war crime called a ‘battle’ will be anointed too, of course, ta! ta!

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