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The Decider
We are killing at a distance now.
It is a most clean and efficient form of homicide.
The Decider decides,
not the guy in the drone control,
not the millinery brass - no,
every hand is washed,
all the way up the up-chain
and that chain leads not to any person,
for the Decider is hidden.
Death is sent with surgical precision.
Missile to target, mission after mission.
Death now resides
in a small remote computer,
that hums away happily night and day.
It never stops deciding,
controlling who lives or dies.
It has a program, one it programmed for itself.
It has an endless list, and everyone is on it.
It decides who needs death now
or later. Where to diagnostically strike,
where to smartly eliminate
without the messy, close-up hate.
The busy desk-top automata
drones on and on,
and the death-count ticks on and on.
The good and the bad are named
and only after the murder
are they blamed.
It is a pin-point killer, it is tidy
for every hand is clean,
while any hint of distant blood
is aseptically, and most compassionately
washed away
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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