WarFair4.com: The Day The Markets Stood Still 1.1.1.

M. Stow, Paul H. Williams

ISBN 13: 9798374712643

Published by Independently published 02/n /22 J, 2023

About this Item

Shipped within 24 hours from our UK warehouse. Clean, undamaged book with no damage to pages and minimal wear to the cover. Spine still tight, in very good condition. Remember if you are not happy, you are covered by our 100% money back guarantee.

Seller Inventory # 6545-9798374712643

Bibliographic Details

• Title: WarFair4.com: The Day The Markets Stood Still 1.1.1.
• Publisher: Independently published 02/n /22 J
• Publication Date: 2023
• Language: English
• ISBN 13: 9798374712643
• Binding: Paperback
• Illustrator: Williams, Paul H.
• Condition: Very Good

About this title

Synopsis

Also by M.Stow:
WarFair4.2: Rogue-Citizen: Into The Abyss…Global-Citizen
WarFair4.3: Local-Den(i)Zen…
Walter Mepham (A First World War true family and personal stories)
EarthCentre:The End of the Universe (An Anthropic Odyssey)
Universal Verses
Pan Tan-Gou
Arctol & other short novels, stories and poetry…
All rights reserved copyright2023M.Stow


Standard Oil Co. (by Pablo Neruda, Canto General, 1940)
Posted on June 26, 2010 by reed

When the drill bored down toward the stony fissures
and plunged its implacable intestine
into the subterranean estates,
and dead years, eyes of the ages,
imprisoned plants’ roots
and scaly systems
became strata of water,
fire shot up through the tubes
transformed into cold liquid,
in the customs house of the heights,
issuing from its world of sinister depth,
it encountered a pale engineer
and a title deed.

However entangled the petroleum’s arteries may be,
however the layers may change their silent site
and move their sovereignty amid the earth’s bowels,
when the fountain gushes its paraffin foliage,
Standard Oil arrived beforehand
with its checks and it guns,
with its governments and its prisoners.

Their obese emperors from New York
are suave smiling assassins
who buy silk, nylon, cigars
petty tyrants and dictators.
They buy countries, people, seas, police, county councils,
distant regions where the poor hoard their corn
like misers their gold:
Standard Oil awakens them,
clothes them in uniforms, designates
which brother (sic!) is the enemy.


The Paraguayan fights its war,
and the Bolivian wastes away
in the jungle with its machine gun.

A President assassinated for a drop of petroleum,
a million-acre mortgage,
a swift execution on a morning mortal with light, petrified,
a new prison camp for subversives,
in Patagonia, a betrayal, scattered shots
beneath a petroliferous moon,
a subtle change of ministers
in the capital, a whisper
like an oil tide,
and zap, you’ll see
how Standard Oil’s letters shine above the clouds,
above the seas, in your home,
illuminating their dominions.