"communists" poems
this time has finished me.
I feel like the German troops
whipped by snow and the communists
walking bent
with newspapers stuffed into
worn boots.
my plight is just as terrible.
maybe more so.
victory was so close
victory was there.
as she stood before my mirror
younger and more beautiful than
any woman I had ever known
combing yards and yards of red hair
as I watched her.
and when she came to bed
she was more beautiful than ever
and the love was very very good.
eleven months.
now she's gone
gone as they go.
this time has finished me.
it's a long road back
and back to where?
the guy ahead of me
falls.
I step over him.
did she get him too?
50.9k
I come from New Orleans where the swingers hook up with the singers, and the boxes have a person inside who speak to you through a thick horizontal slot in the door. You come from Minnesota where the most aggressive sentence is “Hi, how are you” and you’ve attended church every Sunday of your life, even though you don’t really believe in god.
We came to the West to skate with the surfer junkies. But then the harbors got bombed and we moved out East to see the hipsters and the artists beggin on the streets. We went to the South with the racists and bigots were dying for a good show. We moved up North to escape from the 70s, and with the 80s on the rise we figured we’d best stay away.
The 70s were rockin’ with **** and LSD in parks and concerts, and on benches on the streets. The smoke in the air was everywhere, from the slums in Wisconsin to the cities of Dallas. Even the poor were lost in the haze.
When the 80s arrived with Rock ‘n’ Roll and techno beats from windowsills upstairs. The music was groovin’ and the ladies were fine. We saw billboards of our names in neon orange lights. The *** was replaced by coke, and the LSD with ****** singing and swinging with delight in our eyes.
When the AIDS broke out we were sick in our beds listening to Pink Floyd and Elton John, and still we were singing. The 70s got us high while the 80s made us die
We lived through wars in Vietnam, and Korea; we fought back the communists with red ink on our hands. We broke down the door into China and got them to arrive in the present and join the world. Although their chairman sits on a chair of lies he leads them with an angry fist in the air pumping “three cheers for Mao”. “Three cheers for Mao”.
When the Soviets launched themselves to the moon we responded with our money and flashed our shiny new machinery in their faces. We marked our territory and claimed triumphantly that “We’re the best”. And we launched our war nukes and pinned them into intimidation. Then the Cubans sought revenge for the death of the Pigs on their Bay. With rifles in hand we stormed the beach and unearthed Castro and his regime.
With our beds soaked in blood, and our dreams covered with fog, hand in hand we lay. We recalled the dances in the backs of old Cafes where the passwords were as simple as three quick knocks and two slow ones. We remembered the guns that pierced the heavenly chorus for the negros in the south. And we thought about the music of the 70s and the death in the 80s and I thought about you for a minute more.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 4:29 PM UTC
In nineteen hundred forty-nine
China was won by Mao Tse-tung
Chiang Kai-shek's army ran away
They were waiting there in Thailand yesterday
Supported by the CIA
Pushing junk down Thailand way
First they stole from the Meo Tribes
Up in the hills they started taking bribes
Then they sent their soldiers up to Shan
Collecting ***** to send to The Man
Pushing junk in Bangkok yesterday
Supported by the CIA
Brought their jam on mule trains down
To Chiang Rai that's a railroad town
Sold it next to the police chief brain
He took it to town on the choochoo train
Trafficking dope to Bangkok all day
Supported by the CIA
The policeman's name was Mr. Phao
He peddled dope grand scale and how
Chief of border customs paid
By Central Intelligence's U.S. A.I.D.
The whole operation, Newspapers say
Supported by the CIA
He got so sloppy & peddled so loose
He busted himself & cooked his own goose
Took the reward for an ***** load
Seizing his own haul which same he resold
Big time pusher for a decade turned grey
Working for the CIA
Touby Lyfong he worked for the French
A big fat man liked to dine & *****
Prince of the Meos he grew black mud
Till ***** flowed through the land like a flood
Communists came and chased the French away
So Touby took a job with the CIA
The whole operation fell in to chaos
Till U.S. Intelligence came into Laos
I'll tell you no lie I'm a true American
Our big pusher there was Phoumi Nosovan
All them Princes in a power play
But Phoumi was the man for the CIA
And his best friend General Vang Pao
Ran the Meo army like a sacred cow
Helicopter smugglers filled Long Cheng's bars
In Xieng Quang province on the Plain of Jars
It started in secret they were fighting yesterday
Clandestine secret army of the CIA
All through the Sixties the Dope flew free
Thru Tan Son Nhut Saigon to Marshal Ky
Air America followed through
Transporting confiture for President Thieu
All these Dealers were decades and yesterday
The Indochinese mob of the U.S. CIA
Operation Haylift Offisir Wm. Colby
Saw Marshal Ky fly ***** Mr. Mustard told me
Indochina desk he was Chief of ***** Tricks
"Hitchhiking" with dope pushers was how he got his fix
Subsidizing traffickers to drive the Reds away
Till Colby was the head of the CIA
January 1972
10.1k
Looking at the clock, I struggle
Despair floating like an eye floaty thing
Get the hell out of here
Like cheese, I age, the more so the more I smell like a ****** old guy like god **** quit buying clothes from Dillard's
Like an onion, I make people cry because my face resembles a donkey getting ***** by an eagle that's ice skating and juggling
All at the same time.
Stuck in my socioeconomic class
My mom is getting harassed
My brain cells are getting grassed
I hate communists.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
Two fine films: The Lost City and Blood Diamond.
I joined Blood Diamond during a village massacre
and said to my wife A gun in every home.
Those devils would think twice
before razing the village and seizing the boys.
A well-regulated militia.
The local militia the most interesting moment
in a strong film with motive (economic, emotional), action (chases,
fights) and a **** sexless love story.
Use of violence by the local militia for a limited purpose: protect the
community, the young
from the janjaweed. The crop from the ****
Limited scope and defensive posture
but armed and coordinated, cooperative, the men (and the women)
side by side.
Warriors at the gate, you will not run, you will not bargain.
Just violence = limited scope, defensive posture.
Great music. Cuba, Africa.
The Lost City, when the communists tell the club owner under threat
of violence
No saxophones in the band. The saxophone!
Invented by a Belgian--Look what the Belgians are doing in the
Congo!
When the state's violence is turned against the citizenry
for non-violent acts.
This quiet neighborhood, July,
undergirded by violence, force. That's a given--
any farmer, custodian, EMT will tell you that.
Without just violence
Gandhi's scope, and King's, might be vanishingly limited,
negligible (but not non-existent)?
Regarding King
the matter is simple -- he was non-violent but dependent upon
federal force to counter the South's violence.
No doubt without the larger force, the non-violent would be
overwhelmed by southern violence.
Here, non-violence was a tactic, not an ethic.
Gandhi, however, had no violent partner to protect him from the
British. Or did he?
1. There was the potential violence of the population, which Gandhi
restrained but could release which the British feared, and
2. It was the restrained (limited scope) violence of the British that
allowed Gandhi to exist rather than be extinguished--this restraint
was a (British) cultural imperative (limited scope) as well as
emanating from Britain's view of India as a protectorate and
valued citizen of the United Kingdom (defensive posture).
What about violence or threat of violence to compel compliance with
community
as in mortgage foreclosure, driving without license, drug possession.
Perhaps it is necessary violence to maintain orderly commerce, the
common space, and preempt bad behaviors associated with
otherwise neutral, private acts.
The defensive posture is the common good; the limited scope is
forgoing deadly force.
But the citizen, too, must maintain a disciplined, armed non-violence,
in case the state (the janjaweed) engages in an unjust, autoimmune
violence.
Hence, a gun in every home.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
Trump invades Nicaragua;
lights a powder keg to the
relief of everyone; let's get
on w/ it; change the world;
otherwise Nicaragua threatens
to become another Syria w/
Sandanista vs. Sandanista &
drug lords & communists;
mercenaries; contractors
& experimental weapons;
welcome to a world that is torn
completely in two to everyone's
relief for the sheer catharsis;
that is what frenzied freedom
looks & feels like; touches like,
smells like, ***** & eats like;
the madman in the marketplace
is the last person who can spell
Bourgeoisie & Ancien Régime;
Disestablishmentarianism &
Nouveau riche; time & technology
will turn the soil of psychology
churning up some never before
seen creature; mankind is suicidal;
this new Being will have no such
concept; coming in & out existence
like walking through a door; time
is meaningless running in countless
waves in all directions; space is
flexible like clay; women & men
create each other to the limits of their
imagination; Newton laid the foundation
& Einstein painted the ceiling; Pascal,
Hawking; Leibniz & Nietzsche & every
poet that ever lived or never lived; every
celestial siren & songstress who whispered
in a magical scribe's ear & he scratched
the miles & hours & places & people there;
thus, it began somewhere far out in space;
but they've been there all along; peaceful,
loving, able to shape-shift to perform
pleasurable functions in accordance w/
mankind's selfish wishes; mankind thinking
it's putting one over on the new species,
still finds itself bogged down in Nicaragua
long after Trump has built his Presidential
Library & joined the aliens like everyone
else; the poor Nicaraguans & Guatemalans
& Hondurans fighting it out to the death;
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
American Democracy
is setting a trend:
American Democracy
is a Sitcom, or perhaps a Game Show
of demagogic, narcissistic sociopaths
tricking and manipulating the Public
via various sources in a highly consolidated Media industry
into thinking they vote for a particular flavor of Tyranny
when in reality Today's flavor of Tyranny is all decided for you
because the burden of Choice is far too stressful
for the Moderner without proper medication,
and the power of Choice may require some sort of educated critical Thinking,
some sort of re-edification
which is far too much for us to handle
in this socially sanctioned doped-up state
and with such an intentionally failing Education system
from K through 12 and beyond.
With American Democracy,
We have a grand Illusion of Choice.
It's so convincing that many believe the Illusion is True.
(Sort of like hew we think of Reality, but with Choice of Government!)
For American Democracy,
They don't want mass Education.
They don't want mass Edification.
They don't want Critical Thinking;
Those things prevent a Control by few.
In American Democracy,
They intentionally destroy progresses made, like Rights,
They perpetuate stigmas about things like genders and the concept of "race" itself
They propagate Terror as their Sheeple scream from the sidelines for more
They defile the sanctity of Human Experience, of Reality itself
and chain us to a system that benefits only a few
while destroying everything else,
like Climate and Environment.
These Demagogues are Satan, if Satan is real:
They tempt us with the things we don't need,
filling us with Stress, Desires, Prejudices and Fears,
and ceaselessly wage war on institutions of Education,
all the while keeping us from finding the things we already have within each of us.
This System of American Democracy
has degraded into a corrupted fractal
of the ages-old ways of Tyranny and Terror:
Aristocracy, Plutocracy,
Patriarchy, Oligarchy,
Kleptocracy, Demagoguery,
Bankocracy, Corporatocracy,
Fascism;
Tell me,
What is the ******* difference?
I mean,
even Adolf ****** was elected democratically
under the pretense of "Change"
then, for weeks later, suspended civil rights indefinitely
after a likely false-flag 'attack' on the Reichstag in 1933,
(for which the Nazis blamed the communists.)
under the pretense of "Security":
Demagoguery runs Amok
Among disedified Minds.
They say "Freedom" and "Democracy"
as if it vindicates their Totalitarianism.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
resuming vogon poetry
altering website logos
pretending everyone cares
playing "east hastings"
asphyxiating well-nigh denouement
depicting twitter status
obfuscating coincident deletions
translating from Sḵwx̱wú7mesh
assuring Sḵwx̱wú7mesh exists
painting skwiḵw's mother?
decrying micropolitical maelstrom
imbibing fireball fountain
inundating lexical foofaraw
crafting poetic wonders
desiring other mediums
remaining practically invisible
ending internet-only depression
drafting noetic blunders
requesting astute clique
blazing perilous trail
aging ominous grisaille
depicting kmart realism
seeking darker groups
increasing pre-weekend laughter
appropriating communist symbols
making lone chuckle
offending worldwide communists
colonizing hello poetry
colonizing parallel universe
relaxing e-migration policies
пить чистую водку
photographing abduction scene
¿losing consistent format?
increasing bluebird insignia
avoiding frivolous legalities
striking astraphobic comments
assuming near-universal automation
lowering latent inhibition
traversing oneiric plane
laxwadding afebrile loodies
wallscaping pitchsourced chthonicities
closing one-star conveniences
sharing alien-looking alphabet
writing system downtimes
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
i.
the poem has a beginning exactly as you’d expect it:
pa in sweatshirt, ma with purse; the funny thing is
i never used to call them those names:
“pa,”
“ma,”
always found them too cowboy-ish,
too un-me, un-like
us: who held chopsticks before dinner time and shared
stories of how grandpa came over from china.
ii. (at the dinner table)
there is no symbolism here. there has been none
for a while now. this household eats and
eats in quiet. my grandmother is a poet but their
books all burned down
back in ’45 when mao stormed into fujian and
all her uncles could eloquent on was that
“the communists were coming!”
“the communists were coming!”
and instead of poems took with them their
children, and their gold to pawn
and their clothes on their muddy
mortar-stained backs
and the japanese
iii.
my grandfather now comes twice a week to the
hospital for chemotherapy. it is a nice hospital.
good view of the cleanest part of our *****
city. there are lights and white folks now. two things
my dad said did not used to be there. they
used to be spanish. they tilled
our rice fields and spent the money on living rooms
with lots and lots of space to sleep. we on the other hand,
worked. he claims.
your grandfather and his grandfather and i
iv.
awake every sunday morning at precisely 8:30.
made to go down to the temple in kalesas
and told to fetch the office paper for
noontime reading. see we weren’t spoiled: grew
up just next to the pasig river which back in
the 70s did not smell as bad as sin only
sweatshirts
and the sweat we soaked them in we reeled along
steamed fish heads and chopsticks for picking at them with
and bowls of rice we never really ate with spoons.
v. (back at the dinner table)
i listen to my mom and dad
sweat profusely in the evening heat only we can have here
he in his sweatshirt and she
with her golden purse,
preparing to leave - a wedding party awaits -
an jacket draped over his shirt just like grandfather used to do it
in a sense,
but gripping the chopsticks delicately for all us
to see:
“pa,”
“ma,”
v.
it is not cowboys that give us our names.
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC
Sometimes strange things happen.
In the afternoon mostly, after lunch and rest.
Today in was the morning.
A communist asked me
" Did I know the difference between Chinese communism and Vietnamese communism"?
To be honest..I did not.
This is the first time I had been asked this question.
A new experience.
I sensed a passion, a desire for me to answer.
We ascend from time-to-time.
So I said
" The characterization of the struggle"
I put effort into this.
Attention and love.
Was the communist satisfied?
I don't know
But we all learn to do necessary things.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 1:15 AM UTC
In preserving Hugo Chavez,
every method will be tried.
If stuffing Hugo doesn’t work,
They’ll try Formaldehyde.
Madam Tussaud’s was consulted
But their wax was doomed to melt.
It is steamy in Caracas
And Hugo’s not exactly svelte.
A corpse in a glass coffin
Like Snow White on display
The late lamented Hugo
Was a saint some peasants say.
What is it with these communists
Who all faiths do decry?
They long to be like Lenin;
To be worshiped, deified.
In the end they'll use McDonald's
secret sauce to tan his hide.
Their burgers last forever
don't get me started on their fries.
If you go to Venezuela
Be sure and say hello for me
To the carcass of Caracas
preserved for posterity.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 11:06 PM UTC
Grey-Green-Red-Brown Dawn
stains right through a.m. sky
so the atmosphere
looks weird today.
The forecast calls for heat again;
that silent, seething drum that beats
the blood-drenched dollar sky--
beats out a March of Ages--
beats us copper lumps to shape.
The shelf we Occupy on this drifting
westward continent, constructed from
the flesh that fell from our fathers' hands,
from the bones of distant lands
becomes a dusty storage closet
for the corpses of our days
Our days--aha.
That's supply and demand, kid.
What's a life but flesh-time?
And what's time if not money?
Nothing!
Nothing is anything
but money.
You. Are money.
Like time.
Sleep well tonight. And set your clock.
You gotta work to buy their robots
that **** Mid-Eastern skies
(and Midwestern ones alike)
Sink real slow beneath the surface
of that rising ocean of noise--
growing louder--hot air melting ice caps.
Watch that boiling, acid ocean
roll in on the tide and sink
beneath the waves of noise--
of monotone voices--
sawdust seasoning on cardboard--
crying, "These colors don't run!"
and, "Stand your ground!"
and for fun, when bored, answer the
Call of Duty.
It's that silent, seething drum
beating 'gainst THE TERRORISTS
while we deny the summer heat
as we sweat in SUPERBOWL SUNDAY dreams,
Like it beat against the COMMUNISTS
through all our TOP GUN weekends,
Like it drums up portraits of
vampire fanged IMMIGRANTS
and ILLEGALS
while we guzzle our BEER
and sweat beneath those acne-scarred skies
on the FOURTH OF JULY.
Sleep well tonight
And set your clock.
Don't wanna be late for work,
to buy their robots that **** Mid-Eastern skies
(and Midwestern ones alike).
What's that hum outside your window tonight,
whirring, buzzing
droning
beneath the blood-drenched dollar sky?
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
I have observed that history rhymes,
with no exact repeats each time.
As foreign nationals flock to fight
For ISIS and the Caliphate.
It seems I’ve heard this tune before
When socialists fought in the
Spanish war.
That dress rehearsal for World War Two
That played out on the Iberian plains.
Then Communists and Fascists fought
and idealists were slaughtered for their dreams.
Now in the village of Kobane
Its U.S. drones, not **** Planes,
The Kurds expel the men in black
Who leave behind their friends remains.
Foreign fighters by the score
won’t need their passports anymore.
They fought against America,
Is this a second Guernica?
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
I dodged a desert eagle bullet and disappeared
As the swan's trumpet rusted
During the Pentecost
As the ordained minister pressed play
Chiang Kai-sheck pressed on against communists
My horse got spooked by some type of anomaly
Making me late for my two o'clock train
So now I have saddle bags of useless words
My cigarette's one giant granny ash
And my bowl is cashed
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
Flag of my fathers
When will the winds of equality
lift you from your languid prison?
When will your 12,000,000
illegals be given shelter
beneath your furled stars?
Flag of my fathers
When will you be worthy
of your returning veterans?
I'm tired of them washing
my windows for spare change
beneath the overpass
Flag of my fathers
When will your gays and lesbians
be more than fodder for bible
thumping patriots?
I was a bible thumping patriot
once but I never hated the gays
I'm tired and broke Flag of my fathers
The bank wants my house
and the Chinaman wants my job
He's welcome to it if he can get
the Indian to give it up
The doctor wants my money
but it's all been squandered
on promises and broken dreams
I call for equality Flag of my fathers
and they call me a communist
I'm not a communist but if communists
believe in equality, was Jefferson
a communist?
Flag of my fathers
They tell me to leave if I don't like
the way things are but where will I go?
Mexico's crowded and Canada's cold
The government tells me 'get a job'
but the corporation says 'get an education'
The University hands me a bill
and when I can't pay
they tell me 'get a job'
It's all ****** up Flag of my fathers
It doesn't make any sense
I've got a headache, leave me
alone
I'm so tired
Watching shadows crawl across
the wall is dull even for a slow
witted fool like me
Flag of my fathers
Why are we at war?
Why are we closing our museums
and demolishing our libraries?
Why are we feeding our military
and starving our vets?
It's too much to take
Flag of my fathers
It's too **** much to take...
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 10:56 AM UTC
Flag of my fathers
When will the winds of equality
lift you from your languid prison?
When will your 12,000,000
immigrants get a fair shake
beneath your furled stars?
Flag of my fathers
When will you be worthy
of your returning veterans?
I'm tired of them washing
my windows for spare change
beneath the overpass
Flag of my fathers
When will your gays and lesbians
be more than fodder for bible
thumping patriots?
I was a bible thumping patriot
once but I never hated the gays
I'm tired and broke Flag of my fathers
The bank wants my house
and the Chinaman wants my job
He's welcome to it if he can get
the Indian to give it up
The doctor wants my money
but it's all been squandered
on promises and broken dreams
I call for equality Flag of my fathers
and they call me a communist
I'm not a communist but if communists
believe in equality, was Jefferson
a communist?
Flag of my fathers
They tell me to leave if I don't like
the way things are but where will I go?
Mexico's crowded and Canada's cold
The righties tell me 'get a job'
but the jobies say 'get an education'
The Universities hand me a bill
and when I can't pay
they tell me 'get a job'
It's all ****** up Flag of my fathers
and doesn't make any sense
I've got a headache, leave me
alone
I'm so tired
Watching shadows crawl across
the walls is dull even for a slow
witted fool like me
Flag of my fathers
Why are we at war?
Why are we closing our museums
and demolishing our libraries?
Why are we feeding our military
and starving our vets?
It's too much to take
Flag of my fathers
It's too **** much to take...
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 10:53 AM UTC
Wishing your hands might fuse with my *******
and that your phallus,
flaccid,
-just the way I like to taste it more-
may set in my mouth its lightest traces,
may reborn,
helped by saliva, which is full of poems,
and then you ***
and we both become some crude socialists, or communists, or wherever you like the most.
Then you take my red ***** as your communist flag, and recite your manifest before it.
And then my nails painted with desire, dovetail with your left arm,
-tattooed of what your soul unvoiced-
and become draw a turquoise butterfly,
emulating me,
and then, an ****** beyond re-surge,
that will go from sadism to communism,
and from metamorphosis to ******
and if while I write you this,
my *** is getting wet,
little by little,
getting full of my sacred elixir
–according to your mouth-
perambulate my ******
-self-possessed and palpitating-
and if my mind doesn’t do anything else but imagining you,
raining white over my shoulders,
and my back,
and my hair,
and nothing matters then,
because it’s voluntary retention, and your ******* friend Marx is next to you,
and not me,
that I’m just listening arias,
and smoke,
slowly smoke,
towards your savage, flaccid, tasty *** always present in my mind,
and my lonely ***
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
By no means is my diatribe polemic
The truth of the matter it was systemic
The CIA created the crack epidemic
Which over time became pandemic
They needed a scapegoat to pay the cost
So they blamed it all on Freeway Rickey Ross
While acting as if he was the boss
In hopes the evidence somehow would get lost
Then a reporter for the San Jose Mercury News
Came along and gave them the blues
By exposing their involvement they stood accused
Of funding the Contras and substance abuse
Meanwhile Nancy Reagan was just saying no
Her husband Ronald was using the dough
To fund the Contras like I told you so
So don’t pretend as if you didn’t know
Ronald Reagan remains the patron saint
For Conservatives everywhere even though he ain’t
What they make him out to be despite the taint
Of his secret dealings done without restraint
His secret deals with Iran and the Contra’s too
Was something that very few people knew
See there was no limit to what he would do
To insure that the Communists got the *****
The crack epidemic was allowed to grow
Because of the supply a never-ending flow
From Bogata to other places we know
Fueled by ambition and the money yo
So they shouldn’t pretend to be squeaky clean
While blaming the victims ya know what I mean
When they’re nothing short of being obscene
Though we tend to blame the average crack fiend
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 3:34 AM UTC
A White girl figure with a blank face and
a dress cropped over her knees lays
smeared flatly onto a restroom door;
a black star encrusted shoe kicks open the
Door.
In comes a knocking the delusions
of grandeur that stay suspended in the
Fragrance of workaholic soccermoms.
In one of the bathroom stalls
swims a ****** rosemary, teenage midlife-crisis
Averted. Theses tests were ironically
positive for the genesis of an unborn
Icon. I might have just used the wrong definition of irony.
Moving on. A hand flushes
the remanents of immortality down a sparkling, smiling toilet.
Rolled poems become unscrolled
when writeen on the pampered virgins paper.
In the next stall,
there lives substance for the homeless man
in the deep, brown soil
Of the marsh. A trash can is hunched over the sink,
attempting to dispense it’s
Apathy for a commercial world.
He turns the corner and sees writeen on the wall in
legible, abstract graffetti; “Ugliness is shrouded
under layers of positive
contradictions.” The words are engraved
deep into the cracked out, white tile wall.
Socialist Olympic torches blaze before ash
crumbles into communists tendencies.
The water is clear but the benches
are polluted with foreigner sea ****
and
beneath the jangled sands
lie the zombies stuffed deep in the black body bags.
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 5:16 PM UTC
I, Too, Sing America (and did so in my diapers!)
by Michael R. Burch
I, too, served my country,
first as a tyke, then as a toddler, later as a rambunctious boy,
growing up on military bases around the world,
making friends only to leave them,
saluting the flag through veils of tears,
time and time again ...
In defense of my country,
I too did my awesome duty –
cursing the Communists,
confronting Them in backyard battles where They slunk around disguised as my sniggling Sisters,
while always demonstrating the immense courage
to start my small life over and over again
whenever Uncle Sam called ...
Building and rebuilding my shattered psyche,
such as it was,
dealing with PTSD (preschool traumatic stress disorder)
without the adornments of medals, ribbons or epaulets,
serving without pay,
following my father’s gruffly barked orders,
however ill-advised ...
A true warrior!
Will you salute me?
I hope my “small” attempt at humor will help readers remember the sacrifices made by the spouses, children and extended families of our valiant servicemen and women. It was not easy making friends only to lose them, time and time again, as I grew up a “military brat” on American air bases around the globe. I really did make sacrifices for my country, while winning every battle against the “communists” in our back yard.
Keywords/Tags: Memorial Day, military brat, service, war, duty, honor, heroism, soldiers, army, navy, air force, marines
May 31, 2021
May 31, 2021 at 2:26 AM UTC
Bell bottom hip huggers
And my Frankenstein shoes
That had stack soles and heels
That I could only barely use.
A crop-top sleeveless tee shirt
With a superman emblem on it
And diamond ring on my hand.
In case I might have to pawn it.
Because we were picketing
Downtown at the City Hall
And at some police stations.
It was the seventies after all.
Our parents raised us to acquiesce
It was their America they protected.
And it was just exactly this blindness
That we, en masse, all rejected.
We failed to understand them
The generations that came before
That prized prejudice and bias
And celebrated sending us to war.
We felt there was another way
To go about sweeping social change.
We saw beating and fire hosing
As nefarious and more than strange.
We got beaten ourselves and jailed
For just pointing injustice out to them
And watched our sit-ins and love-ins
Turned into scenes of ****** mayhem.
We heard them call us all criminals,
Long haired ******* was a favored taunt.
It seems we were entitled to our opinions
As long as we didn’t chose to flaunt.
It felt so very much like **** Germany
Including storm troopers and jack boots
And the local politicians were obviously
At least agreeing if not in cahoots
With the police in their fear of rebellion
And protecting their good paying jobs.
So, they beat us and vilified the students
Calling them ***** communists, and slobs.
And, yes, some of us were getting high
Back in our homes and apartments.
Sometimes it seemed the only way
We could deal with the estrangement
Between what our country said it was
And what it turned out it really was.
It was hard to realize our land wasn’t free
And there was no social Santa Claus.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC
Back in my fundie days,
Anyone could be happy, if
They really wanted to.
If you tried hard enough, all
Your wishes would come true.
Love was forever and divorces weren't possible, unless
You were selfish.
Kids didn't disappoint their parents, if
You raised them right.
People had addictions because they chose them, and
They could quit if they'd just stop.
Depression was a sign that
You weren't relying upon God enough.
Back in my fundie days.
Back in my fundie days,
I had a fish on my car, an index finger in the air, and
a pipeline to God.
I was going to heaven and
I knew how you could too.
There was only one name for the Almighty, and
It was “God,” and God was a HE.
Prayers were always answered, if
You had enough faith.
All solutions were found in the Good Book, and
You could look them up for yourself.
Back in my fundie days.
Back in my fundie days,
I lived in a country founded on Christian principles,
the ten commandments and the twelve apostles.
People were poor, because
They were lazy and didn't want to work.
My country was right, and
If you disagreed, you could move away.
Protesters were communists, who were
Trying to tear this country down.
English was the undisputed language,
Both here and abroad.
Back in my fundie days.
Back in my fundie days,
I knew the difference between right and wrong,
With no shades of confusing gray.
There was a place for everything.
You, me, us, them,
God, family, country, life...
It was much simpler, when
There were more answers
Back in my fundie days.
Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 7:22 AM UTC
**** the f... communists
if there is anyone f... left
**** the f... capitalists
at least it's going to be a f... mass ******
**** the f… politicians
**** the f… priests
**** the f… pirates
**** the f… presidents
**** the f… French
**** the f… mujahedins
**** the f… terrorists
**** your f… stylish youth
**** the f… classical sentences like f… the Police
F… the Police
**** the f… Police
**** your f… self
**** the f… sun
**** the f… Damien Hirst
**** the f… moon
**** the f… Warhols
even dead and then again
for every f… 15 minutes!
**** your f… life and **** your f… death
**** the f… lesbians and the f… gays too
**** the f… Beethoven’s f… music
**** all the f... families
**** the f… lies
**** the f… truth
**** the f… God
**** the f… Devil
**** the f… carrots and the f… *******
**** the f… punks!
**** f… everything and everyone
**** the f... stars on earth and in the f... sky
**** the f... TV and the f... TV hosts
**** the f… ******
**** the f… Jews
**** the f… Christians
**** the f… poets
**** the f… pets
**** the f… children
**** the f… laws and the f… lawns
**** your f… hope and f… guts
**** every f… creature on this f… planet
**** the f… planet
**** the f… DNA and all of the f… stem cells
**** the f… techno and the f… folk music now!
**** the f… DJ and f… Ozzy
**** the f… Americans
**** the f… vegetarian and every f… hippie
**** the f… meat eaters too
**** the f… humour
**** for the f… God’s sake and mine
**** the f… zeitgeist
**** the f… good and the f... bad behaviour
**** the f… Buddha and the f… Buddhism
**** my f… ****
**** the f… Justin Biebers f… **** too
**** every f… ****** ****** dead or alive
Dig up every f... dead Ku Klux Clan member
and **** them f… again and again
**** your f… good taste
Your f… self-righteous thinking
Your f… good morals
Your f… delicate philosophical views
**** every f… thing I forgot to f… mention
**** the f… you
F… you all
F… You!
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC
We shall speak, and by speaking loudly and fervently enough, we shall be heard.
We shall be heard, and by being heard, we will be dismissed as the lost denizens of a failing society.
We shall be dismissed, and by being dismissed, we shall not disappear quietly into the night as our forerunners have done.
We shall be branded "Communists" & "Traitors", and in doing so we shall aquire the attentions of those we aim to educate.
We shall not be silenced, and by refusing to be marginalized into a portion of "freaks and outcasts", we shall be known.
We shall not be paid off or coerced into "negotiations", and by maintaining unity, we shall be outlawed.
We shall not accept the scorn of those whose power seems unassailable,
and in so doing, we shall be feared.
We shall not accept platitudes and half measures as answers to our grievances, and in so doing, we will be persecuted.
We shall not accept a world where our worth as human beings is measured by GDP, and in doing so, we will become that which we seek.
We shall not accept that "Some people are better than others", rather,
we KNOW that liberty is born from knowledge.
We shall speak, and by speaking, be heard, and by being heard, we will effect change, and by effecting change, we will be victorious.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
with regard to those who believe time has let us down,
it is not our fault that we expected more in life than the
simple basic pay that we force ourselves to earn,
that only a minimal few get more than £4 an hour
and earn a million in a day
they take and they take and we give our all,
to a job that will eventually fire us, retire us and
dig our grave, all to provide ourselves
with a mortgage and a tax paying wage
that some of us can never afford,
and we **** ourselves because of debt and
we stare at our kids with resentment because
they’re
dream killers
but they’re a social norm, and if you don’t fit in
you don’t make it
social darwinism,
liberalism
conservatism,
socialists, Marxists, communists,
left wing advocates,
the ones the poor ‘take advantage’ of because
we believe people deserve the best chance in life,
and unless you’re incredibly lucky and
you’re born at the top
you are bred with that chance,
and the rest of us are at the bottom because
meritocracy
doesn’t
exist
it never will because those
who believe they’re better,
the elite-born
***** at the top come from the brightest schools,
the most expensive and they gave them
confidence and money
something we don’t own being in the northern region of a
divided country
and your prime minister killed our jobs and i find it funny that
people still vote for your two faced, pragmatic party
you haven’t been remotely interested in us since
Disraeli, but even he tried to help us selfishly
the working class,
the proletariat
is divided because of the lies you feed us
through the media,
you honestly think you’re superior
and you are
but you ignore poverty and you accept inequality
and society isn’t like a human body
because if it worked
this wouldn’t exist, this divided society that you
don’t even acknowledge because why would you
when you have enough money and power
and overall glory that you have been smothered in
your whole life whereas we have
seen what your policies achieve
and you try to buy us off with basic low wages and
give starving people benefits which take ages
to come through
and you don’t care when they die because
they weren’t employed,
didn’t belong in this capitalist economy,
which you gladly enjoy,
while we sit at the bottom in absolute despair,
that I don’t even know if we’re really aware
of the exploitation we are put through every single day
all to make enough money to pay
for the taxes you evade,
and i wish for the whole world there was something i could do,
because if i had any money,
i would share it with you.
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 11:59 AM UTC