The Santo Mon – A Political Poem

The Santo Mon-  


Yeah Mon…You know the one.

Remember it.
Founded in 1901 by
a rich family full of ambition.

Your grandmother’s mother washed
her linens with one of their first brands
and hung them to dry in the warm
afternoon sun.
ALL, the detergent of the ages.

Other products flew off the shelf.
Who do you think made Coca Cola taste so
Saccharin, supplied by the Santo Mon.
Here, have a drink.

It set them up real good for what was to come.

If your head was aching, grab some Aspirin.
Pop a little salicylic acid to turn that frown
upside down.

Why stop there Mon, because chemicals were theirAgentOrangeDumping
specialty ya know;
DDT, PCBs, Agent Orange by the barrel load.

Ya see, the US government had this little war in Vietnam,
They had this idea that they could keep down the Vietcong
simply by killing off all the foliage mon.

All it did was deprive the good citizens of growing food,
causing them to flee to the city
where they crammed into
the slums by the millions.

The Santo Mon knew the dangers of what he sold, it was all in the notes as the studies showed; what it did to animals surely it could do to us,
cuz we be but animals as well bro.

Those wonderful products broke the bodies of the natives living there
and the vets who came back.

Woe be war, but woe be more the chains you still wear, for it never be over for some.

Misshapen babes born to proud
Papas and Mamas who are already themselves half in the grave.

Kiss your wife dear solider and hug her tight, for something burns inside you and it ain’t
never coming out.

It’s gonna strike
Who knows.

But you will be the fool
to feel Santo cares about your

Don’t hold your breath if you don\’t want to turn blue.
Men in suits;
lawsuits been settled they say,
reparations be done.

Some say it would have been better
to have pissed into the wind to get what
the victims won.

Go about your way,
we be the New Monsanto
all improved.

Our business is growth and nature.
We want to show you the way.
The New Santo Mon only engineers seeds nowadays.

Oh, you haven’t heard that story either?
Well sit down my friend I’ve got a lot
more unpleasant things to say


by Philip Wardlow


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