We do not pine for just one day
where the markets, morality, or technology
tune themselves in perfect harmony
We say the future's now
if we unite in just one way:
the acknowledgment that we have the will and machinery
to feed, clothe, house, and heal
every human being

Who cares if they find a wage
Let's "let anyone follow their dreams"
be the creed of Earthlings
I'll have much more a fun time
going to my neighbor's for beers
if they spent their days doing
what their inner child intended

Pipe dream, much?
Acknowledgment our task's a process
another must, even when we feel so close
What's your story
other than the idea that authority's some natural right?
The Government and the Propertied
Working together or against each other
forever in eternity
(the Capitalists are the biggest Marxist narrow minds
who refuse to hear Karlo's ending)

it is wonderful

just by existing

to be implicated

in a vast system

that delivers

my tax dollars

in the form of

bullets to brown

children here and

abroad

merry death

& no taxes

black masses arise!

beneficient
warmbody
breading
thein
theun
theorsunic
alra
RA
iffi­c
sensunsultie
sssss

[Infernal Dialectic of Ongoing Struggle]

Spoke Mao Zedong to Kim Jong Ill:
We languish here in deep red hell—
Let us confer and analyze
What factors revolutionize
The contradictions still.

Replied Lil’ Kim: The running dogs
Beguiled by class and capital
Have overdrawn and overspent.
They bank on debt, and make lament
And flounder in their fogs…

Kim chee does stink, but tastes so good
Do have some more, oh comrade Mao.
Fermented cabbage goes so well
With Hennessey and blondes (in hell)
when Juche’s in da hood!

The Fearless Leader (now a shade)
Responded thus: Just give them time.
Our doctrines spread, their God is dead
Their sons shall sing ‘The East is Red’
Our party’s got it made.

Ill Kim displayed a wicked grin:
Our rocket-launches make them fear
They scold and cluck, and then they duck
While Hillary tries to pass the buck
I think we still could win…

The Chairman thought and sipped some fire
in communistic reverie, and feeling very clever, he
Replied to Ill: This place we’ll fill
with dead reactionaries still—
fifth columns to inspire.

Now let the thousand flowers bloom
And let one thousand thoughts contend.
Remember **? Remember ‘Nam?
We triumphed over Uncle Sam—
He’s limping toward his doom.

A wizened ghost now drifted in
Because his name had been proclaimed
A wispy beard (as yet unseared)
Revealed the mastermind once feared:
Old Uncle ** Chi Minh !

** **—old friend! Draw near! Draw near,
Spoke Mao: In solidarity
We hail your work upon the earth
You showed them what a war is worth
You’re always welcome here.

Ill Kim and I were wondering
How best to make the forward leap—
conspiring ******* their cow
and smoke their duck and drain their sow
while they are buying bling.

** Chi, old warrior, why the frown?
Upon your wisdom now we wait.
The forces red you bravely led
You staked your claim until they bled
And brought their nation down.

Old uncle **, the sage revered,
did smolder with his cigarette.
Viet Cong thought is hard to grasp
It slithers like a jungle asp…
** paused and stroked his beard:

You speak without the people’s light!
I criticize in strongest terms
Your revolutionary thought.
We need to ask our friend Pol ***
How best to steer this fight.

Such gradual change, a halfway measure
stalls the Bourgeoisie’s demise.
Our true Khmer Rouge was not a stooge
of Kapital. His fame was huge
for plundering their treasure.

True, he had to purge his nation
such is revolution, gents…
The traitor classes see the masses,
through reactionary  glasses.
Death or re-education!

We ought to sow his rural seed
for pure agrarian reform.
The bodies in the rice can rot
to fertilize the harvest plot—
the people’s mouths to feed.

When Pol *** heard his tactics lauded
he flew in to join the jabber:
Take a tip from Kampuchea!
Listen well and I will teach ya!
Kim and Mao applauded.

City folk are useless eaters
glasses-wearing foes and cheaters!
let them slave – and always save
their corpses for the fertile grave
Until they love their leaders.

From the barrel power grows—
(I don’t mean kim chee barrel, boys).
Now learn my way.We’ll have our say
Their weakened states will wither away.
The Red dictator rose.

Prepared to ramble on for hours
(the way Fidel so loves to do)
Pol ***’s harangue now fired the gang
like rockets falling on Da Nang
emitting sparks in showers.

Hell is known for lack of stasis—
Sudden throes of quaking fire;
fitful flares from from Satan’s lairs
and constant similar affairs
the population faces…

Thus Saint Pol ***, still naming names
along with Mao and Kim-Jong Il
while ** Chi screamed, and then blasphemed
were swept en masse, and unredeemed
into the surging flames.

Yet still they plotted in the blaze
with dialectic deviousness.
Philosophizing, strategizing
stinking sulphur brimstone rising;
ghosts in the yellow haze . . .

        ☭ END ☭

Let's go sit on the hillside
Away from the world

If the rain starts spilling in, we will built a roof
If our stomachs start to grumble, we will pick some fruit
If we hear the sounds of people, I will look at you

And we will sit on a further hillside
Away from all the world

even if they do come find us, we will never leave
With the wind in our hair and the soil in our nails, this is all we need

After all they can't communise the mountains
They can't commercialise the wind
the future here isn't bleak because
*Nature isn't weak

Held in the highest esteem but inept in equality
Unprecedented equality she can never guarantee.
Yet she is dimmed perfect.
Imperfect is aiding the poor at the expense of the bourgeoisie
Yet vice versa of this infamy is dimmed rational.
Rationally speaking, we all can't be rich.
Thus why there would always be tiers.
With the upper tier benefiting at the expense of the proletariat
Yet the humanists are seen as rivals
And stigmatized via false credence.
These men, rooted in selflessness are considered dangerous.
With their movement colloquially synonymous with political abhorrence
As long as we all can't be rich.
Pursuit for Capita is as futile a venture as underwater basket weaving.

Danky *****
hanky panky
tranky lanky
shanky ranky

hendi lendi
mendi bendi
poopi woopi
in my soupi

my favorite show
90210
in the snow
with the low...

blow

get rekt m8
but not for h8
i r8 8...

**out of 8

Clinging to the eternal truth
That manaña never comes
But put all faith in the dawn of tomorrow
All the eggs in the sunlit basket

Because here, now,
In the dust of the crushed buildings
The pettiness, the bite of bullets from rooftops
The megaphones screeching their siren songs across
The dredge of forbidden earth,
Here and now
We embrace,

In the dawn of mañana a mother feeds a son
Toasts are made
The Spanish smile and
Gesture to the sky;
They are undefeatable
In the face of defeat;
In the face of mañana.