At precisely nine in the morning,
working with focus and stealth,
our entire membership succeeded
in simultaneously beheading no one.
We set, on roads in every city,
in every nation in the world, a total of zero
roadside bombs which, not being there,
did not subsequently explode,
killing or maiming a total of nobody.
Also, none of us blew himself or herself up
in a crowded public place.
No bombs were dropped, during
the lazy afternoon hours,
on crowded civilian neighborhoods.
No stun guns, rubber batons, rubber bullets,
tear gas, or bullets were used.
No one was forced to don a hood.
No teeth were pulled in darkened rooms.
No drills were used on human flesh,
nor were whips or flames. No one
was reduced to hysterical tears
via a series of blows to the head or body.
In addition, zero planes were flown into buildings.
Since the world began,
we have gone about our work quietly,
resisting the urge to generalize,
valuing the individual over the group,
the actual over the conceptual,
the inherent sweetness of the present
over the theoretically peaceful future
to be obtained via murder.
To tell the truth, we are tired. We work.
We would just like some peace and quiet.
We stand under awnings during urban
thunderstorms, moved to thoughtfulness
by the troubled, umbrella-tinged faces rushing by.
We are many. We are worldwide.
Though you are louder, though you create
a momentary ripple on the water of life,
we will endure, and prevail.
A Press Release from People Reluctant to Kill for an Abstraction, 26 August 2004.
Verbatim Poetry 