America I've given you all and now I'm nothing.
America two dollars and twentyseven cents January
I can't stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go **** yourself with your atom bomb.
I don't feel good don't bother me.
I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I'm sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I
need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not
the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don't think he'll come back
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical
I'm trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I'm doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven't read the newspapers for months, everyday
somebody goes on trial for ******.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid
I'm not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses
in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there's going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I'm perfectly right.
I won't say the Lord's Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven't told you what you did to Uncle
Max after he came over from Russia.
I'm addressing you.
Are you going to let your emotional life be run by
I'm obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It's always telling me about responsibility. Business-
men are serious. Movie producers are serious.
Everybody's serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.
Asia is rising against me.
I haven't got a chinaman's chance.
I'd better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of
marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable
private literature that goes 1400 miles an hour
and twenty-five-thousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of
underprivileged who live in my flowerpots
under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers
is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that
I'm a Catholic.
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as
individual as his automobiles more so they're
all different sexes.
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500
down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Com-
munist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a
handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the
speeches were free everybody was angelic and
sentimental about the workers it was all so sin-
cere you have no idea what a good thing the
party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand
old man a real mensch Mother Bloor made me
cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody
must have been a spy.
America you don't really want to go to war.
America it's them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen.
And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power
mad. She wants to take our cars from out our
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Readers'
Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia.
Him big bureaucracy running our fillingsta-
That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read.
Him need ******* *******. Hah. Her make us
all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in
the television set.
America is this correct?
I'd better get right down to the job.
It's true I don't want to join the Army or turn lathes
in precision parts factories, I'm nearsighted and
America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.
Berkeley, January 17, 1956
Things Fall Apart
As All Things Do
This universe holds the thread
and we are spinning too
Through gravity ,
magnetism is key
for Food to digest
but still met with ill repute and Infinite Jest
8 is great!
but 9 is lucky and 10’s the best
what I have
Wait, and watch my
will I have
tricks in my vest
Not to mention a footprint proof chest
for eyes times 2 kNOw rest
Elastic limbs twined by my cleaver clasp
It will be fine this too shall pass
But Mourning desires birth hungers
and how much longer this must last?
Awoken in my web whilst the wind whispers late
be it a lost locust or flies in my plate?
be it a dream, or not what it seems?
should I snooze sleep to continue my dream?...
I cannot delay
Hustle and Flow
Or destiny may get away
Eve in the hungry owl
rests none day
has become to Its diet
So man waits perched in the thick of it
may not thi s tillness be in vain
May not my Solitude leave me slain
I meditate on the overcoming Victory
in-spite of my plight
Aim my arrow high ahead
though my target out of sight
May my idioms take flight
May they reach destined site
I've laced Arrows of many colors
for Hearts and Minds
Blood and Tears
Hit or Miss
my fingers still tremble under tension and Fears
But the only way to fly is to let it go
Things Fall Apart
but you've got to let it go.
Now Let IT Go!
My life is justice thread
posted in a Spider's web
only God knows Just us
Tray bombs or Buzz cuts
to bee or not too Be-long
wrapped in cocoon
a silky pill to feed
A Spider's Will
On pace we all finish this race
Becoming the blood of a different Race
That spins in Its bit’s web
by a single Thread
As All Things Do
Like thoughts in my mind...
As The Universe Grew
Dedicated to: Spiderman and Charlotte and Ittsy Bittsy and those called four eyes and TOO weird or ugly, dumb, spacey, or too different. Who's love was reciprocated with hate. For Those who dared and those who don't dare for fear of failure.
This prayer was woven for you to Let go and let God (by any name)
You are what you worship and what you worship makes you more than mere womb/man.
Be the Jah you wish to see in the world!
Suggested listening: Frou Frou - Let Go
Pitter patter patterns ******* water on 2 Window s ills
slither slather slip purr wee wind whistles thru two tree pick s ee's
nestled tween the teeth grips silhouetted skyline
sunlit tea cups
how sweet it is 2 whittle time 4 love and space
slow settled be twin hill splits
my flesh is DITHER dimpled by the thrill of it.
Inspired by @artwiculate
Word of the day : Dither
May add to this some day...
I anesthetized myself
fifteen pints of Olde English,
**** good health
I'm going down.
But coming round when
the pounding in my head
reminds me that
I can't be dead
is a drawback.
Olde English sounds so quaint,
believe me folks and yokels
the locals where I live
free stretchers for the
just like me.
This is not a love poem
this is an I love you do you love me like
I love you poem
do you know me like
you think you do poem
this is a would you be disappointed
if you did poem
an I have been feeling the chilling of the air
and I cant tell if it is just the fault of the season
or if you, too, are cooling
whatever heat you had for me
browning and falling and
crumbling between my fingers
like the leaves of these oak trees
in november poem
a what would I need to do to keep us warm poem
and this is also
an I may be completely mistaken poem
an it was seventy degrees today poem
this is a show me I am completely mistaken poem
Those who choose to dig deeper
must be willing to accept the dirt as truth
and the mess as proof
The only resolve is sharing tha loot
with those who seek not to be aloof
those who can recycle
Otherwise your pursuit becomes futile and vanity in roots
That holds you trapped in a place that never bore fruit.
Like a Pirate
Tied to a ship
who's sunken into
frozen winter drifts
Yelling at everyone who passes by
Uneffected Bitter Colder Less Productive
An Ivory Tusk Burned in private on public telivision
What is gained in the retelling and redistribution of historic ills should always be measured by the need and desire to cultivate future enrichment and wisdom from the source not fashioned into a rusted sword to beheld in anger and revenge...
That is to say the value in revitalizing history is never found in giving it teeth but giving it light and understanding.