Issue 59, Winter 2007/2008 [pdf]
Issue 59

Table of Discontents

Climate Justice in Boston, by Evan Greer

Uncovering the Eastern Service Workers Association, by Nate Leskovic

Power to the People of Bolivia, by William Budington

CORI Keeps People Locked Up, by Jonathan Barry

From Chile to Guantanamo, by Sofia Jarrin

Hollow Glory, by Mikey Sweeney

Public Demand Grows for Bush to Release Details of Plan Mexico, by Jennifer Truskowsi

Zoning Law Change Limits Number of Students Who Can Share an Apartment, by Jeff Reinhardt

A Call to Porn, by Masha


Hollow Glory


American born, and conservatively raised;
My passion forlorn, my God ever praised.
From the cradle I marched to the brass of the band,
My throat never parched, money always at hand.

I rode bikes down my street, played ball with my friends;
Every spring bought new cleats, every fall followed trends.
I soon chased after girls, had love in my sights;
Then to one I gave pearls, and spent endless nights.

My plate always full, a roof over my head.
My sheets made of wool, a cross over my bed,
My wife loves me still, my children love me so;
A candle on my sill, a garden by my ho.

Then to war we were called, “for freedom and peace.”
The evil to be mauled, from this world released.
The army was raised, the troops ready to fight;
The American dream to save, with all of our might.

I marched off to war, with a gun in my hand
I ready for my tour, for our nation I stand
“For freedom!” they say, “For justice!” they preach,
“Our fight is today! Let us take this beach!”

“For glory!” they scream, as we storm through the sand;
For the American dream, we will destroy this land!
Orders to to fix bayonet, firm onto our gun;
The scene is now set, “kill them! They’re on the run!”

We chase the enemy down, spilling their blood to the ground.
We burn down the town, in which their forefather’s found.
And as I run a man through, he mournfully screams,
He doesn’t bleed blue, this is not as it seems.

His back arches high, his face twists in pain;
He yells to the sky, to God he calls His name,
“My wife, I love you. My son, be strong.”
He has a family too? Oh how he must long.

His eyes then went dead, his screams turned to silence.
The guilt in my head muffled all of the violence.
“This man had a wife, a son and loved God.”
I ended his life, and for what noble cause?

This man I killed was not evil, a monster or a beast,
This man was just a man, a man just like me.


Other articles by Mikey Sweeney.


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