Baghdad Torture Museum (poem)

A knock on the door in the
Middle of the night
Goes unanswered
Door rips from hinges
A dozen men
Wearing police uniforms
Armed with guns
Drag a man from his wife
Crying.... brutally shoved
Into a corner with child
She is told to leave this home
In a city where
Sunni and Shia no longer coexist

The husband is handcuffed
Thrown into a truck
Never to return
But somehow it seems
These are not policemen
The man is blindfolded
Truck speeds away
In the crooked streets of Baghdad
Twisting and turning
Finally it arrives
At a warehouse in the night
A building among fallen wires
Broken street lamps

Blindfolded man is taken
Down a long dark hallway
Into a cold room lit only by flashlights
Never seen by civilization
Told to give the names of his own kind
So others can be brought here
To the dark belly of the beast
Where he pleads ignorance
Before he is beaten with iron pipes
His testicles tasered
With high voltage
He cries out in agony... he cries
Begins to speak but gives
No useful information

His mouth is then stuffed
With a filthy sock
His blood curdling screams never heard
Sweat pouring like rain
Collapsing like crucifixion
Another victim is watching
Each becoming witness
To the torture
That terror may be their death
Cause their bodies to tremble and
Sweat in fear as arms and legs
Strain.... unable to free themselves
From layers of duct tape
Ropes and chains

Torture master picks up a power drill
A Sears Craftsman
Slowly begins to drill
The stomach, the muffled screams
A torture in themselves
Then the knees are drilled
The body trembling like an earthquake
Ungodly desperate for the chance to die
To know God in a heaven
So foreign from this hell
Finally the skull is drilled
Sweating torture
The brain misfires
Delirium and spasms
Death begins to kick like a mule

He is finally free
In this new new land
Of "freedom and democracy"
Sun rises on Baghdad
American soldiers find
Piles of bodies with drilled brains
Knee caps
Mere statistics from a war
That may never end
To any civilized outcome
America tunes into
Thirty minutes of news and
Not one drop of blood
Not a body in sight

Waves of militias
Angry men crossing borders
By thousands
Answering our Prsident who said
"Bring 'em on"
Billions of tax dollars
The ever widening
Hole into hell
Drilled into the hearts and brains
Of humanity
Where blood curdles like oil
Physical agony
Torture, pain and rivers
Of Iraqi tears
Flow like petrol
At the gas pumps
Of America
Rushing home to watch

Started 2007 January 09 Tuesday (1:21am EST, atomic watch time)
Completed 2007 January 11 Thursday

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© Vincent B. Rain