Smashing boots on doors,
splinters fall like rain.
Smashing boots on doors,
children feel the pain.
Smashing boots on doors,
granny's years of age.
Smashing boots on doors,
Mom and Dad in rage.
Smashing boots on doors,
panic sets the stage.
Smashing boots on doors,
Iraqi freedom fades.
Smashing boots on doors,
like thunder in a storm.
Smashing boots on doors,
an innocent family torn.
Smashing boots on doors,
a brand new hatred born.

RW Dennen  (c)  11/24/09

Be smart be alert
Do not hide the truth my friend
Defend the truth until the end

RW Dennen-

Come my brothers and sisters
  let us be basked in the sun of glory
Be we the tears that fall
  surrendered on cheeks that tell their tale

Let slavery's master-yoke be broken
  and cast away

Come my brothers and sisters
and so do join in our power's struggle
  to lend a better day

Come my brothers and sisters
  may your shining soul be at rest

Come be as neighbors no matter far away
  let our colors merge one into one is one;
    let racism fade away
  and let rest us upon the immovable stone
     of brotherhood; so powerful we are
And so too awaits our resolve enlightened by
our hearts of day

Then tear that awful blind of ignorance
and sing our song till all merge into one
And laud that peace that will increase good tidings to us all

Be that light until that sight
when colors merge and BROTHERHOOD,
  to never go away...

Imperialistic meddlers,
men of power greed and wealth
Western Imperialism
not too long ago
was once put on the shelf
Not too long ago
this name was never heard
Its name is New Order of DiSoRdEr
But still us folk of sanity
with eyes wide open
we see their compliance
lock-step herd vanity

In White House spin gone amuck
they throw their bolts of anger
to all countries on the globe
And with more and more displeasure
we witness their destructiveness
from sea to shining sea

But now I hear, see and feel
a distant faint rumbling the rising Valorous
the rumbling stampeding of democracy
by the forceful rightful anger,
the free-spirited valiant word
a word of truth and dignity,
the echo of today,
and aaah yes
to hear the thundering of the mass
To hear the thundering of the mass...

Not much inquiry
is necessary
delineating candlelight
Not much pondering,
only the flickering
whispers which permeate
time-space
And transfix time
temporarily
are the tools
for description...

...something about
the periphery
that lies beyond
its heated source
is the mystical shimmering glow
and its soothing embrace
that hugs
cradled-souls
And most matter about...

...energy not yet exhausted
heated translucent secretions
gush down
from the hot-tip likened phallus...


...the heated beads reflect the candlelight
Watching the warm trickles,
human feelings are warm
Lightly light
and light headiness
soon embrace...

A supine position
upon my bed
and a slow turning
of my head

I look out through my window
and by chance
LISTEN!!
Hearing the howling
and chilling desultory gusts
of wind

Noticing seemingly deceptive
immutable muffled
grey-white
low hanging clouds
enveloping everything
in its heavenly path
with coinciding
feelings
of being enclosed,
a slight hint,
the oncoming winter

A sunless sky also
matches the early November mood
as virtually motionless
elongated pearl-grey-clouds
having distinct
wind-kissed
topsy-turvy-wavy-ruffled bottoms
that travel and permeate
onward
across the heavens
These eerie vapors
s t r e t c h
from north to south
east to west
casting Buddism's
grey colored shadows
upon the earth below
while not permitting
any sky blue
to peek through

A distant howl and barking
of
a dog,
my inner volcano snuffed out,
the tranquilization of Hercules...

Time seemingly
stops altogether
and hangs...
... heated feelings
dissipate
   into
     cool nothingness...

The great New York metropolitan
stretching its  vibrancy
trafficking its wears.
Car horns combating in contemptuous arguments
habituated eardrums unwittingly pulsating

Great buildings upward; towering behemoths in grandiose splendor
This great asphalt jungle sprawling its electricity for blocks,
for miles
The jazz of the city continues the chanting; the sounds of bass and the blowing of the **** sax, the horn, the piano
and the drums drumming on its rhythmical beat

Beating hearts feeling the vibrancy; the shock waves of nuances echoing the great hustle
Multitude of voices singing praise to the different tongues;
vibrant in diverse rejoicing, the poetry of men and women
Metropolitans claiming the world condensing into small
blocks and listening to its RHAPSODY.

An inland blockade from Israel cut off life
giving supplies to the Palastians in Gaza.
This happened around 2010.
Formulated was the "GAZA FREEDOM FLOATILLA".
Their strategy was to dock in Gaza-away from land-and deliver much needed life saving supplies.
However, the flotilla was seized- on the sea -by the Israeli
Navy consisting of one hundred and fifty sailors.
Around ten people from one of the flotilla ships
were killed and  brutality reigned supreme. ( a Turkish ship fought back )
Incarcerations from the floatilla to Israel's jails took place.
And so I dedicate this writing to these wonderful people of
conscience and their brave hearts upon the sea...

Days of siege
Days of conscience
Days of hope
Sailing to their destination
Days remembered
Day's compassion
Days remembered these needed cargoes held

Engines turning on paths of caution;
love is carried on sailing symbols
Each ship and boat will shout her name
Will shout in spirit dear Rachel Corrie,dear Rachel Corrie
Will shout in spirit dear Rachel Corrie

Brave hearts you suffered so upon the sea
Brave hearts you fought for truth, hope and dignity

Brave hearts on floating love
Brave hearts you are that peaceful powerful dove
Brave hearts you are our guiding light
Brave hearts you pierced that darkened blackened night

Brave Hearts upon the sea...

Almost round 4:00pm two Asian lover dovers with giggly
laughter took the South Bound subway to South Philly.
Their outward display was so neat and pleasing like a painter with my pen I had to write this...


Watching two Asian school youths;
    frequently there;
every smile every nuance of expressions,
    their soul-mate world
tells about their quiet and giggly adoration

Transformed from their
    hard steel bench
is now a park bench
    Encompassing strident voices fade;
Their happy world is victorious

She sits upon his lap
    And whispers; they faintly laugh
Their entwined thoughts
    cannot be pulled asunder

As I write, I observe;
    I laugh to myself,
the remembrance
    of my soul-mate and myself
many years ago...

They walk into darkness
exiled from fear.

Relinquished  cerebral thoughts,

freedom   wanes,

dissolved      into             rote-reality,

into a spirit of ****,

cast                        downtrodden,


embracing submissive                bogus         security.

Watching night step-sitters staring at each passerby
abiding time as if counting sheep stepping with the city's cadence
Hearing sirens alarming in their BEWARE BLARING;
persistent fearfulness for evil and citizens securities
Staring-walking-bodies searching a barren land prostrating
before the great needle
Patched streets and decaying sidewalks by flooding night lights lay surreal

DECAYING fingers of poverty playing its fingers into every crack, crevice; into every pore, into every cell member
into one's whole being
Sounding the hip-hop generation street corners of hustlers
jiving away the night
The hustled and hustlers' overwhelming struggling for power; being surrounded by red brick and stone; being  incased in poverty

Pounding city hysteria;
at times laying silent in sleepless depth
by the waning gradualness;
anytime readying itself to ERUPT

Hey you, the enchanted
nights for us
Hey you, in the kettle is your witch's kissing-brew

In magical moments
I pretend to spend
suspended moments
entwined in mystical
thoughts and lovingly
clasping you

So close to my heart
I drink of your
sparkling bubbly
witch's kissing-brew

So close to my
heart I dream
of enchanted all-night-love-rocking,
and just plain loving you...

God is energy

Energy moves

Movement is life

Life is God

God is energy

In this fRaGmEnTeD cage,I hear checkpoint moans;
anticipating our prone-positioned
brothers and sisters held
Prone positions against walls
Prone positions against fences
Prone positions against vehicles
Prone positions against buildings
Prone positions against prone positions
Slam-whacked, bloodied, occupied
like our great nation; like our souls
I remember a prophet's call, " love your neighbor
as yourself "

I hear Palestine weeping from Jenin
to Hebron, from Jerico to Gaza seized
I hear lamentations about blood tales
I see only FrAgMeNtS of our land
I see FrAgMeNtS of our proud people
Lo and behold my Palestine quakes as an earth quake
Doves scatter skyward as a prophetic omen
Blue skies and Sun momentarily claim victory
Then inhumanity's ugly face:
America to its Indians, America to its blacks,
America to women, America to its gays,
America to Mexicans,
America to South and Central America,
America once to Southeast Asia,
America to Islam, America with its war crimes,
America and Israel both innocence died

So, we pray Koran's verses upon our prayer rugs
We gesture all hope
The apartheid surrounds us
The dead talk to us
The smoke surrounds us
Perhaps better days we say
Entwined with bizarre everydayness
we accept sleep with fits
Fits without food;
Fits without crucial welfare
Roads, shelters, mock us
sculptured by missiles and bulldozers
Bully-bombs exploding in a reign of terror
We pray upon our prayer rugs
Bully-bombs exploding in a reign terror
And oooh how those awful missile FrAgMeNtS fly
and Muhammad cries with anguished tears, in this writtened
legacy...in written legacy

White as winter skin,
expressionless faces z i p on by,
looking straight ahead

Timepieces remembered,
drudgery over leisure time
All in cadence, same beat, same drummer

Putting on Mona Lisa smiles
and handing out business cards
Numbers dominate words,
words mesh with numbers

Fast food, fast digestive systems
join Popeye's Whimpey ranks
Plop Plop, fizz fizz
Companies, corporations, amalgamations
merge then COLLIDE!!!

Laziness,

taking 1 step forward

then

10 steps backward

Life is a fighter's ring
        your opponent
is life's most downs
        with all its fury
forever challenging us most prevalent surely...

What type glory
         do you choose
when failing your fighter's round?
Do you pick yourself up
            after crashing
                           to the ground?

What glory in rising
          your situation
                   newly found?
What invention
              of yourself
in your up and coming round?

Do your cheering crowds please you
               your real friends know
your need?
Will you rise yourself up
          in a thunderous quickened speed?

So, your fighter's glory in rising
       each bout that you take
Will you rise yourself up
      for your honor is at stake...

-This is why i think that most average are heroes no matter what country-
RW Dennen

Colorado,Colorado,
I wish I was in Colorado.
Where  puffers stand in line
to have a good-old-time.

I wish you were in Colorado
and puff away your blues,
and have a restful snooze.

Where people laugh
out loud and make their puffers' cloud.

And people stop and stare
into thought provoking air,
and talk about the deeper things
in life.

Sensuous summer fills
my mind
between my munchies
all the time.
My tastebuds shout in glee
with popcorn near my reach
and soda made of peach.

Colorado, Colorado,
I hear you callin' me
forget about that tree
of good and evil be.
And smoke away-at times-
those nasty nursery rhymes
cramped between
folders made of black.

Colorado,Colorado,
I wish I was in Colorado
to get a mountain high.
Where puffers' stand in line
to have a good-old-time...

Since not allowed to light
we're allowed to write:
"Let the **** reign forever"

Walking walkers
that soon vanish
around corners
  Crazy
          cracks
                    catch
      ­               crumbs crumbling in crevices.
And some man-made drilled drains
drum drum drops dripping droplets
                                               down
                                               drowning
                                                drowning­
                                                drains for rats
Roaches run rampant
randomly.
Running rats reach
reeking rotten
radishes
as walking walkers
crush roaches
running rampant
randomly for crazy cracks
that catch crumbs crumbling in
                                                    crevices.
­
And running rats
                      reach
                      down
     ­                  drains that
                                   drip
                                    droplets...

This Black African nun in cherished photo
she calls our right to vote
Her kindness in her laughing squinting eyes,
and her kind bow smile to match
The voice of liberty written and etched upon
her kind and brilliant face; all imprinted for years
to come

All hail her bus with her sisters all in one;
a beautiful chariot on busy wheels that run
across our nation to give a helping hand
And lift our thirsty spirits on a dry and desolute land

They hold that lamp of liberty on kind hands
and gentle voice, but strong in truth be known,
to hold our basic right, to close those drapes and
snap a switch, to a voice of our own

They cross our land in valor in gentleness and kind
these nuns of liberty and justice in an unjust time

Their hearts are made from goodness; their strength
so often done, in a land so heavily pillaged, they will
never never succumb. They see a new sun rising over
the distant hill
They know their work of justice never to be still...

My country right or wrong
we shall still sing her song and bombs away
on you
Bombs away on FDR we think he got away too far
in giving peasants below, our merit, the audacity to inherit,
our country 'tis only for me'

We'll work you until your flesh falls off, nine till five is not enough, to sell our gizmos here and far, to gluttons all alike
Ooops! (melody old man river)
...  Oh tote dat barge and lift dat bale,
ya gets ah little drunk and ya lands in Jaaail

Pull yourself by your own bootstraps, who cares if opportunity naps, while the "America Dream" fades away
cause thirty years of us

America ' tis only for me but not those signers of Democarcy
in Philly where they took that oath, on that **** parchment
I abhor,
on that damnable parchment I ABHOR!!

Tell me about your dreams
of you
wondering in starlit dew
Tell about each dreamy breath you take
making love for lover's sake
Whisper in my ear my dear
of magical dreams with you
falling into clouds of love
feeling the warmth of you

Tell me about ancient fable times;
Oracle's love questions in rhymes;
rhyming about you and me; beyond an ever calming sea

Tell me about vines that creep
up walls too steep that carry me to you
into bedroom dreams of bliss

Tell me about your dreamy house;
it's lilac door, it's French domain, and flowery window paine
Tell me you dream of two, just me and you
within its walls of love, two like dreamy turtle doves
dreaming of only love...

Bugle call in cadence be
spread your deep sincerity

Reverberate its call
within our minds
of good deeds done
for better times

Heroes of every walk of life
remembered by bugle sounds
into vesper night
It's sounding love of mankind
and sacrifice
About everyday people
like you and me
About brass sounds that triumph liberty
It's sounding our land, not laid bare,
by the right to speak
It's sounding about lives laid down
that freedoms seek
And through that bugle call we see
in taps that sound great dignity

We must fight
not to relinquish
our hard earned truth
in bugle calls of our youth

Now i lay my bugle
down to sleep
And still i hear that
sound
that haunting sound
forever be
that ushers forth
our dignity

People of peace walk gently
People of strength never be stilled
Abundance awaits those with courage

RW Dennen-


Stay out of Iraq the spirits
pleaded...
Eyes wide opened, boots and shoes lined up in order
in almost perfect straight lines in Philadelphia July 2005
Symbolic death shoes of civilians out of synchronization
in a war of soldiers

Under a small tree meticulously placed
we're children's shoes in a perfect solid circle
I read o months of age on tags
I read 8 years old on tags
I read 12 years old on tags
And on and on the children's lists grew,
as wisdom must have waned
and common decency
was once cherished

These shoes and boots sadly became
the dimishment of human beings,
horizontal and vertical rectangular
snapshots of once smiling faces
all in the name of war, they vanished all too soon

And I saw running tears and tears being held back
and I felt lumpy throat feelings in unison
with the rest but in cemetery silence

Touching deep feelings so overwhelming
is to touch a false bent flower and flowers
and pictures of deceased soldiers and civilians
and letters once presented at doorways
throughout America
America cried its sadness and disbelief,
the vanished breathers of life giving air,
Our sons, our daughters,
Our mothers, our fathers,
Our sisters, our brothers,
Our relatives,
Our close friends,
All perished, like a vampire that ***** away the life blood of
the once innocent

I noticed mostly tourists coming in droves from Market Street
towards us volunteers who were located adjacent to the
visitor's center side entrance as silence like before still prevailed
And like before the atmosphere prevailed even stronger
as these boots and shoes became tombstones

And tender hearts became tombstones
broken into small pieces
Passions never changed into loud speech

And the green turf
rolled down towards the sidewalk
like a green carpet holding all those boots and shoes
like a quilt interwoven with boot and civilian
shoe memories about days that should never
happen again...

Soft sweet meadow
radiating its breath of life;
sounding its serenity
in echoes of the mind's eye

Living in this flat land
lay plush
in wild, multicolored-flowery-pockets in greenery
blankets "Sweet Meadow"  with fresh quickened
fragrance

And by our bedroom window
with a summer night's soft evening breeze
mellow cheeeping can be heard from way way down below
seemingly luring us to...

.. "OPEN WIDER THE WINDOW...
              ...AND LISTEN!!
Chant dear chorus
as violinist in "Cricket Suits"
join this cantor
that swings with rhythm
with wheezing sounding bugs, AH HUMMING!!
and an intermission of
Cha  Cheep,  Cha  Cheep
that breaks the nocturnal entomological singing
with ephemeral intermissions

Be bewitched by brillance as
tunes fly and z i n g
their little
whistle
songs so sweet a talent
unseen
little bugs sweetly sing
their little
tale of talent
in "Soft Sweet Meadow"

Comforted by vibrating frequencies
the air is electrical clasping
our good-inner child
as this meadow
unfolds its truth
being beneficial
to us all

We journey not too far
for this field draws us
to its delightful *****
We irresistibly suckle on its daytime scenic eye-filling foliage
later eliciting dreams made of peaceful slumber

Cha Cheep,  Cha Cheep and good night...

Fashionable entourage
people dance in step
to the beat of hidden
native rituals
Hidden here and there
seeing a pair clad up to the hilt
with colored shades
cool as mountain glades
that never
shakes or simmers
on fire
a real deep desirous searching soul

Rapping about nothing
even though
face to face
words bounce off expressions
as cool as mountain glades
that soon melt-fade
into the distance

Rap, tap, clap
never nap
the cannibus-filled room
embellished by flashing lights
on nights
that take spatial flights
into another world that enters upon
lounging everywhere
people lost in space,
in time,
in androgynous acts

In vogue, you speak to me
about fashions
that dazzle, frazzel, razzle,
and lip curl
and eye twinkle
me to you,
in real
but unreal
cannibus-sweet-dusky-dreamy-rooms
MTV blotched, bleached
Sergio Valente dungarees,
then a real feeling child cries
in the background
and is soon hustled off to bed
And never a hurt we laugh
and smile
   and smile
A frozen smile grin;
take it on the chin sport
Keep up the good front
Keep up the grinning fort sport
A sported fort fortified Disneyland
and life's forever
carousel ride
and sweep the dirt under the carpet

A speak about profits
And speak about"ME" yuppie things;
about golden rings
that wrap around ears, around wrists, and cattle noses

Seek time entwined
to search geometrically
the advertisements
that lead you
and nobody but you to you
A love ballad between
one and no one but you
You and you
        and you
         and you
Being good you
                     you being good to you,
Being good to nar-sa-see-you
                                            you being good to only you,
to yoou
     to yoou
                    to yoooooooooou

Many paths do we take
Many roads in our wake
Many bridges with their tolls

Onward travelers
bless us all
Heroes born to challenge's call

Obstacles vanish within our path
toil not with guiding staff

Wandering travelers throughout our life
we share our stories of good and strife
on roads of signs which way to take
to travel best for all's at stake

Lonely travelers is you and me
we merge at times
on roads
we share
and talk our journeys
of rough and smooth
and find our wisdom
in enlightened mood

Pondering about
my dog,
I think that
perhaps even
if humans
-in general-
sling stones
at their unsuccessful brothers, sisters and themselves,
their dogs
still remain faithful
Could be,
-in general-
realizing that this trait of faithfulness
both in God and Dogs
English-speaking people
-in general-
spell the word, "D-o-g"
but unwittenly
think backwards, "G-o-d"?

He and she walk alone so young.
So young he and she are.
Without another's tender touch
and tender kisses.
Being without a loving, caring other;
expressions desolved by war.
They're still in the desert
guarding buddies.
They're still in war-torn towns.
So young they are.
Behind every house door lurks
an unseen enemy.
Every crevice in their home-sweet-home,
a hidden device.
Every patch of an American road
hidden IED'S.
Every turn,every corner,every glance,every walk,
Every position, for some, a hand gun hidden in his
or her belt.
So well they learned their craft.
Their home vehicles are now Hummvees.
Their towns are now
the unfriendly and foreign Middle East.
They walk alone,these ANGRY ISLANDS,
unto themselves they are...

RW Dennen

I sit upon a park bench
mentally piecing together
a utopia

You steal along silently
to sit upon my throne
of wooden slats and cement

I quickly turn and look at you
and say inwardly,
"your tree is not my tree
with squirrels that scamper about,
but a table top or a chopping block
even tooth picks lined in a row."

I bend to feed the pigeons;
a saintly feeling fills my soul,
to be abruptly taken from me,
by your sudden pounding feet;
a turbulence of wings
that nearly touch my eye

I finally begin to rest
in reverie,
a peaceful rest
of blue and white

You even steal this rest
and talk about muggers in parks

I hide my ears between my hands
to stop your thieving voice
I suddenly SHOUT at you
but you leave suddenly as you came
FOR YOU STEEL AWAY YOURSELF FROM ME
              to take from you
                               YOUR STEALING BLAME!!!

Taken, screaming, kicking, his
nana's image slowly
dissapears
Being held tightly in tears,
nana is no longer there
No longer in nana's arms

He looks down at
dismal bottom steps
now empty
He smells the old wood
these steps of hell leading nowhere

Alien sounds from alien shoes,
he listens in fear and dread
Being lifted to an alien room;
taken against his six year old will

He remembers not what will come
remembering his nana's tears
at the bottom steps,
at the bottom steps of a foster home

And aghast, he was me...

Trees hold the deep earth together way below with crooked fingers of the underworld and catches foul above
Upward to the heavens on finger towers,
clapping on winds they shake their dander
And the makers of green bras on mountain tops

They are the landlords of ground,and air beasts, and
incumbent giants of the ages
They whisper being puppeteered by winds of old
They are the alchemists of oxygen
They are dangling playgrounds
They are the Autumn crunches beneath our feet

Trunk etchings by bards, trees reflecting
cultures' dissemination
We walk under penumbras that deny the scorch of summer
as cool water douses fire, so too, shade douses heat

Watching trees in my pleasant reverie I observe how they
help break the carpeted land, bringing about a  certain diversity in moving tranquility and rustling of their songs

People of peace walk gently
People of strength never to be stilled
Abundance awaits you with courage

RW Dennen-

Came the Black voting rights march into Selma, Sunday
1965...

And being gathered in prayer before crossing, you soon felt smashing upon your body as blood seeped down your face
on a Sunday and the initial retreat too too much to remember:
About dogs and billy clubs; about fire hoses ready and that very bridge, later will carry hearts of conscience all in the great name
of the American ballot box

Today, I say hail for the slain and hurt of the historical past; I say hail to both black and white
brothers and sisters once endowed with bravery embued with inalienable rights

Hang strong my true people of the bridge
Hang strong for that greater bridge that bridges into dignity of today
Hang strong and hold dear to your hearts "The Sunday Selma legacy"
and  "The spirit of the Edmund Pettus Bridge"

With your even fixed waxy smile
I'm beguiled by your looks
as you wear the latest looks
as you read the latest books
as you wear the latest fashion
in vogue

Dressed to ****,
you will soon be the center of attraction
Poised ever so
in perfect balance
you stand among the  up most glitter

A plaster of Paris soul,
you feel nothing, you see nothing,
hear nothing, know nothing

You will soon be ready for your public
Your show draws nearer
And finally you step onto
a mindless flashing disco floor
with the rest of the "MANIKINS"

What tempest rules the earth
around her girth clasps her axe
Thunderous lightening in twisted gales
forlorns amazon anger with her gods
Her voice screams for victory sought
in rumblings of the earth below
Touch not her heart of many stones
unless you dare to feel her wrath
upon your bones and wrench you
and ****** into the further pit of hell,
where dismal screams are heard
from bitter depths below
And snake like chains grind the cold
stonehenge ground pulled by bleeding ankles to the bone
Seek not merciful guidence from her wrath
or shelter from her axe or kindness from cold
black eyes but quiver from her icy demon touch
Succubus her nature be, she draws the air from you and me and yet a tempest all in one
Be hastened away by her tempest shrill
and collar you for good
Be alert not to roam too far
from your neighborhood

This is in dedication to Mr. John Grant a spokesman
for Veterans for Peace local 31. When during the late Bush years we protested the Bushy Zombies in West Chester
Pa. This took place every Saturday from early morning till
around 4 or 5 pm. He keep saying, "They're drinking the cool-aid."
P.S. Veterans for Peace is also national and is registered
under the U.N. with its own magazine. This was poem was written in 2010
Besides it has a rap beat to it



Lies ah decieven' our minds ah believen'
by ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny-fudge
Drive-by ah flyin' innocent babes ah dyin',
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny-fudge


Blacks  against slavery racists say lazy,
Jim Crow ah knowin', black vote ah growin',
voter lines ah showen', black suppression ah growin',
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny-fudge

Mr. sweater vest advisin' theocracy risin' ( Rick *******)
gays cannot marry his heavy-load to carry,
all Muslims are targets by his government harlots,
body meedlers of women, no rights he has proven
by ah drinkin' his cool-aid and eatin' funny-fudge

Mexican Border right-wingers disorder,
Jail complexes growin', their profits showin',
public schools no maintain', corporate zombie schools gainin',
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge

Corporations are people super-vote-money inclusion,
Super Pacs' delusion, Democracy illusion,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny-fudge

Profits by Lockheed Martin perpetual wars embarkin',
wars appeasin' without good reason,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge
No good reason callin' Wikkeleaks treason,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge

Houses ah runnin' from ex-owners ah gruntin',
our lands will desert us whole nature unnerved us,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge

Street people ah growin' with hardly non knowin',
parents ah cryin', hungry tots ah dyin', emergency rooms
ah packin', it's healthcare ah lackin'
While ah Wall Street ah hoppin' in triumph give-away-ah-hoppin',
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fridge

Slave hours grind us while paychecks are minus,
GOP congress never behind us,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge,
Zombies surround us to only remind us,
QUIT DRINKIN' THE COOL-AID AND EATIN' FUNNY FUDGE!!!

The car
The bar
The music
The laughter
The bottle
The gladness
The bottles
The glasses
The sadness
The reluctance of a listener
The anger
The fight
The door
The sudden thud outside
The gettin' up
The staggerin'
The poor judgment
The rain
The car
The short-long drive too far
The slippery and hazy highway
The swervin' from side to side
The oncomin' other
The collision
The crash
The smash
The mangled torso
The last gasp
THE END

The HUM-BUZZIN' 0f a newspaper flywheel-press
What jarred up BUZZIN' slanders will these stories hold?
On Newspaper traps where tortured minds are stuck and sold!
Where lowered human beings are treated less

On almost every city corner news is sought
Those ugly outhouse lookin' shacks disperse,
Smelly rotten things not found in beauty verse
The sensation of broken wing-ged offical caught

Garbage boy, toss my garbage at my door,
maggot level I will bend,
And claw-fetch the news of bitter end
And saaaavoooor the nasty things in store

I walk this dismal dark and damp dungeon
  Long dark the phantom am i;
Strolling I now take icy breaths;
  Mystery lies within my realm;
Far faint foot echoes announce my impending doom
  I embark upon my midnight
Echoeing chamber room
  It's chains that puppeted victims that had
Screamed for their end and at last,
  I had giggled laughed and touched their quivering chest
And felt their fading warmth
  Then into oblivion casted they were by me

This dark stone its chilling floor
  Where rodents squeek and scurry about,
My only pets and friends I know

Suddenly I hear as HEAVY VOICES of my approaching DOOM
  POUNDING FISTS and swinging logs against my dungeon door and room

I curse the empending light by
Their torches casting beams
Bound from hell and its slithering horrid beam fingers
  Under my dungeon door

I curse my end by angered pounding fists
  Hell bound to see my end to be

What cursed blackened night just lies
  A distant short,
A breathless world my oblivian beckons me by hounds
  Of DOOM,
My parts be scattered h e l t e r  s k e l t e r
  My inners thrown upon old wooden beams above

Soon i will leave this loveless world i made,
  i foretell and kiss only an empty space goodbye,  
Waiting first ****** deep within my flesh to be

Alike likes alike

RW Dennen-

Pretend I am your mirror
Pretend that reflections of yourself are only my words
of ******* about you coming from me
Pretend attributes about yourself are extended
from my familiarity about you into your existence that holds truth
Pretend that the fine glass is always cleaned from dirt
by questioning whether my thoughts will ever harm you
by not using fabrications upon your life's story
Pretend to handle me gently, at times, because I could possibly give you way more than seven years bad luck by merely dismissing you of my obligation as a friend in deed
Now realize that myself, as a true friend, that i am your
living and breathing mirror,at times, about yourself
and if CrAcKs show, use your logic and kindly DISCARD
ME!!!

Bang those pots and pans
and blow those whistles too
Comes a better year
and love will come to you
Hug, laugh and dance
and leave 16 in the past
Say hello to 17
and give it all a blast
Jump up and down
like good old kangaroos do
Watch that confetti
land on top of you
Kiss all your
loved ones
and giggle in their face
make that yearly *******
never a disgrace
HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR GANG...

Give me your mind and talk to me
let us talk my talk
let us walk my walk

Beware because I am
not a gold miner or even a coal miner
but a mind miner, extracting your self-product
lying deep within your deep and dark hidden caverns
I will dig out your most hidden psyche
I will dig out your most deep inner world by my grinding words
Your inner product will be on a talking conveyer belt,
washed polished and dried to perfection
I will then reinvent your freshly dug up social product
and inspect for flaws
If all passes my inspection, that reflects myself,
the stamp will declare, approved by the Good Mind Keepers of "Herd Mentality".

Yes, you out there wherever you may be
You try to steal our souls in poems
We know you, to the tee

What twisted motives to be us, by proxy, what cowardess you be
What an empty vessel posses you, such sadness, such despair
You pick our hard imagined fruit and not from your own tree

You clone our minds, like leaches on our skin
You wish us harm, you thieving ***
You wormy monster, a slug, next to kin

I curse you
I loath you
I hate you
You stealers of our youth
Betrayers of our written souls
What lacks is pride, and owners of the truth