Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Thanksgiving Day Sans Something
Thanksgiving Day Sans Something
Captain John Smith is retired now
he hides in the phone book
among many John Smiths
just like him
He never married Pocahontas
because that takes the fun
out of raping heathens
that wear pretty jewels
far away from home
it is more exotic
without marital
consent
Walt Disney wants the story line to be
always as wholesome as possible
from his liquid nitrogen throne
he changes history the way
a pilgrim never had to
their rhythm was so
natural that their
race would be
pure forever
this corn is so hybrid it makes injuns sick
ain't that a kick in the pants with a
dirty moccasin foot
ha ha ha
this pumpkin pie
is frozen like
Uncle Walt's
head
it is not made from scratch
like mom used to bake
this turkey has tryptophan
enhanced by Afghan opium poppies
so the next tax cut will help defense spending
along with the black market promises that were made
to guarantee a slower escalation before Christmas
so we can all see those reruns of the halftime show
that were animated back in the sixties when
Suess was still a doctor trying to fix the
broken hearts and warped minds of scared children
he retired a broken hearted man with a warped rhyme
Pocahontas only gets married in animation
in real life she is on a res waiting for a casino check
that has nothing to do with
what John Smith did to her
or pilgrims sharing
blankets of a dying
fever
She cries when Burl Ives sings along
to his banjo by the by
remember,
your purchasing power is necessary this Friday
to start the chorus out right
"every little thing is gonna be all..."
quickly changing into
"I gave you everything I got for a lil' piece of mind"
there are many many pieces on this occasion
but, no one seems to mind
even the soup kitchens
are full of festive
movie stars
the pilgrims knew
these are savages and we must make it through this winter
no matter what
god spoke that day in a verse
of pox and cannon fire
it is all so convenient now
let the parade
begin
Separated At A Still Birth Of A Nation
Separated At A Still Birth Of A Nation
the children of the pimp and ho
generation
dizzy from the centrifugal forces
the new dawn has lit upon
their smiling faces
of death
realize this much:
the conveniences of being from the
criminal class
far outweigh the consequences
unless, of course
you are met with the sudden conviction
lest ye be judged
as you have judged
because
money never judges money
all that harshly
but poverty is an eternal bully
that blinded justice
on the playground
when they were
just kids
on saddleback dinosaurs
come, doctor, do tell
is that more exotic smoke you have brought forth?
is it on the menu for delivery or inclub consumption?
it sells best if it isn't a bestseller
even though, selling isn't everything
but, the list in the times is still something jerks jack off to
the troglodytes have sent us back
to the korea we never left alone
the trembling is ignored in atheistic foxholes
the grunting is heard from Palineotologist trenches
dug in so deep they could not work the stolen
parts on the centrifuge that made up the forest
enriching all the hiroshima wet dreams that ran down
the insides of quivering thighs in angst ridden unicorn .jpegs
that are thumbnails of pretty moments in rice milk diplomacy
while the industrial revolution is still turning
behind everyone's backs like a spinning knife wound
discovered to be an ancient javelin thrown as a game
that turned into a war overnight overland oversea oversee overall
shells rained down from heaven before the sun could make it up
rise and shine in the land of the rising sun until its lights out
these shells are less sea and less see and more big blast
all along the parallel as the electric sounds of uranium
drive the turbines that turn the tables on who will be next
in the musical chair game of world domination
that has been dumbing down the syndrome
until the muck raked 60 years ago
comes floating to the top most point of no return
then
and only then
it is asked of the lord of the skies adorned
with mushroom light shows that make the kids say "WOW!!!"
again and again
please forgive us that can't forgive ourselves for not giving the rest
of the world a second chance after we gambled the first one away
in a solid show of force between ancient fellowships both
north and south, east and west
let us pray
lettuce spray
it makes no difference, either way
let them all eat fast food cabbages
tiny microscopes see tiny possibilities
the details of it in the intricacies in sound and movement...
a frantic squeeze...
then *"POP"*!!!
there are no more
weasels
left to go...
Potlatch
Potlatch
give and let give
give into it all
give until it
hurts
it feels good
to give
so much
give unto us, o lord
thankful for the giving on this one day every year
to signify the start of winter shopping sprees
push the limits of commerce to save us all
the rich are about to get even richer
so don't forget to give
even if you gave
at the office
beware the day of the natives come bearing the keys and deeds
to their casinos and reservations
as they say
"here you are, we have built these up as much as we possibly could
and now we return your noble generosity."
the gift of giving might be given back in return
the gift of living might have been an illusion
all along
these buffalo did not return for you
as you cry inside empty casinos
from a lonely fear
suddenly, the electricity is gone from the world
how many of you speak in the rhythm of drums?
how many of you know what the smoke signals mean?
it is a gift that keeps giving
as your dugout canoe
takes on more water
than your tin cup
can bail out
efficiently
Monday, November 22, 2010
Where Were You The Day Kennedy Was Shot?
Where Were You The Day Kennedy Was Shot?
in a womb
in Brooklyn
8 months
into it
mom had moved
to new york
from dallas
years before
they called her
"tex"
she was tall
she was loud
she filled a
room
like the
lone star
lady
from the
yellow rose
state
there were
not many
folks from
dallas
in brooklyn
back then
after it happened
she stood out
like a target
she was shunned
she was spit on
she was cursed
as the world
became
very cold
very lonely
even my father
became distant
no one knows
why
to this day
mom's old boss
jack ruby
shot oswald
in the belly
while I was still
in my mom's
womb
as people
watched
on new
television sets
I was born
a month later
on christmas day
a month
after the
birth
my pops
caught
a couple
of slugs
in the back
of his head
mom took me
up in her arms
to raise me in
sunny callifornia
far from the snow
that fell at the corner
of flatbush and church
the day I was born
but, that question of
where were you the day
they shot the president dead?
that used to be significant
now it means less and less
many assassins
have plied their trade
since that day in dallas
many bullets
have cleaved hope
away from fate
many have fallen
many are never
remembered
anymore
at all
which makes me wonder, to myself
where will we all be when the next bullet flies?
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