(This poem is dedicated to the hundreds of thousands of men and women who have struggled across generations in pursuit of the timeless ideals of freedom, justice, and equality)

When they try to tell you that the act of protest is un-American,
Dig in your heels, square your shoulders, spit in their face, and remind them where you come from
You come from Samuel Adams, spilled tea and muskets over Massachusetts, people who believed a revolution could not be honest if it did believe in its own declarations,
From John Brown and Nat Turner, broken chains and dead masters, people who believed slavery could not be destroyed without taking up the gun,
From Sojourner Truth and Susan B Anthony, ballots cast in handcuffs, people who refused to back down until democracy lived up to its promises,
From Eugene Victor Debs, shut down railroads and prison sentences, people who would risk everything so that every worker had the right to a fair wage and a livable condition,
From Mother Jones and Big Bill Haywood, general strikes and marching mill children, people who believed we could never be free unless we owned what we produced,
From Emma Goldman, anarchy and cries for liberty, people who believed that every institution which dominated the human spirit had to smashed by force,
From Malcolm X and Huey Newton, shotguns and free breakfasts, people who believed the government would not protect us so we must protect ourselves,
From Angela Davis and Assata Shakur, shootouts on the turnpike and crumbling prison walls, people who believed true emancipation was a struggle that would last forever,
From The Weather Underground and Students for a Democratic Society, midnight break ins and burning draft cards, people who believed the true enemy was not on foreign soil but in Washington
From Chief Seattle and Black Elk, wounded knee and fast receding tides, people who fought to carve their ancestors legacy out from the rubble of a stolen nation,
From Cesar Chavez and Robert Bullard, people who believed to save ourselves we must also save the Earth we live on,
From the Gay Liberation Front, police raids resisted and throwing bricks in dresses, people who fought like hell so that in the future people wouldn't have to fight like hell to love who they wished

Yours is but the next stage in evolution in a line centuries in the making,
You will carry that brilliant torch, and you will burn everything down with it
You will stand on the shoulders of giants climbing to a utopia that was promised,
They will try to break you down, they will try to **** your dream in its cradle,
But you will always have strength they do not,
History will remember you and them alike,
You as the hero, and them as the villain,
Remember this, keep this close to you,
For it will always be your greatest weapon

Our prez is now Donald J Trump
Who has promised to clean out the sump
      Well he's certainly no wussy
      When groping a *****
What more to expect from a gump?

In charge of the Vice, Michael Pence
Said some things that embrace little sense,
       "Global warming's a myth"
       But's now taking the fifth
In attempting to straddle the fence

We all recall general Flynn
Put in charge of security spin
      A trained atomiser
      No more Trump's advisor -
His deal with the devil's his sin

The billionaire Betsy Devos
Making plans for a school albatross
      Hating free education
      Backs private castration
And kids will be bearing her Cross.

The Congress approved Jeff B. Sessions
Ignoring his racist obsessions
      He seemingly cares
      More for foreign affairs
While forgiving ****'s toxic transgressions.

Chief strategist Stephen K. Bannon
Develops the Great Again Canon:
      The Goldman Sachs Bankster
      Turned yellow rag gangster
Flings crap from the New Order cannon

Says EPA ruler Scott Pruitt
"Instead of dry facts, we intuit..."
      (His work as denier
      Keeps profits much higher)
"... If everything dies, well, just ***** it"

The war whoops of Mad Doggy Mattis
Awaken the death apparatus
      With boundless expense
      For a doomsday defence -
Armageddon administered gratis

The magnates no longer need lobby
Or fight regulations thought ****** -
       Now set in the saddle
      They're herding the cattle
And pulling the strings as a hobby

Now the Don can start wielding the axes
Truncating the tariffs and taxes
      The Mafia boss
      Is dismissing the dross
And poverty's pain as it waxes

There’s always been a counter-culture.
And by counter-culture
I do not mean the CPAs or CEOs,
Or those money **’s at Goldman-Sachs,
Nor do I conjure up a ****** of Brooklynese,
Some De Niro or Pacino, or
Bobby-come-lately Cannavale--
This decade’s guinea strunz--
Standing on the back of the truck
Checking his hand full of dollar--
As in Almighty Dollar--bills.
Another hour’s pay & time to
“Count duh money.”
Nor do I mean Harvey Korman
In his greatest film role:
“Count De Monet,”
Part 1 of Mel Brooks’
History of the World:
Harvey as French fop, 1789,
And we may as well throw a
Sop to Cerberus with nary a
Bean Counter around, to be found.
And if you are with me thus far,
You may as well stick it out to the end.

What one word defines the counter-culture?
For me: RESISTANCE,
Any kneecap reflexive swim against the tide.
For Count DeMonet:  La Résistance.
When hair is short,
They grow theirs long,
Or shave their heads,
Pierce their tongues & *******,
Inka-dinka-dooing their epidermis,
Mere skin-deep commitment to Liberté,
Always the least tangible of
French tripartite banner slogans.
The French:
As always, putting up a good show,
Masters of illusion & flexibility
When it comes to ethnic integrity,
Captain Louie Renault, Vichy stooge,
Exemplar extraordinaire,
Double shocked to find gambling
Going on at Rick’s Café,
His morality to the wind,
Tacking strategically,
Playing it safe, as always, a
Fickle-finger to the weather.
The French: girlie men, bent over
Presenting bidet-puckered rectums,
For *** and Viet Cong humiliation,
Once again, declaring victory,
While slipping out the back door,
Wearing nothing but their socks.
But I digress.

The Counter-Culture,
A mile wide and a centimeter deep,
Putting up a good front,
A Potemkin still life,
In it for appearance sake,
Like Billy Crystal doing Fernando Lamas:
“It's better to look good
Than to feel good.”
Looking marvelous, of course,
All the girls want to be
The Dragon Tattoo girl,
Haunted & smart,
Solitary & suspicious,
Cybercrime wealthy.
Cashing in, raking in affluence;
The guys all with Bobbitt night sweats,
***** shriveled, shrunken ball-sacks,
Count De Monet
Counting duh money.

The path was long and arduous
And night began to veer
O’er trees, and lanes and rusted gates
Its' shadows breeding fear

Unbridled Wind wisped ‘round
Tombstone crosses where
Hissing its’ frustration
Loudly in despair

It sought to nourish fears
The shadows did create
Searching everywhere to find
It’s soul-less night-time mate.

Moonbeam light kissed the Night
Claiming shadows as their child
Together then in lock-step
They bent on running wild

And there, where he awaited
Their cold inspiring touch
With doctrines of all Evils
Firmly in his clutch

The blackness in his heart,
Thumping ‘neath his frock
Soon it’s rancid maladies
The Wind would there unlock

Thoughts of what’s to come
Then twisted lips to smile
Revealing stained and yellowed teeth
Trapping breath so rank and vile

‘twas then The Prince of Avarice
Rose and stood *****
The world would soon be his
To ravage and infect

His eyes of snake, both bespake
Behind their reptile lids
The embrace of the doctrine
For no Evils it forbids

The Wind increased its’ howling
Icy fingers pushing fro
Arranging fallen hopes
Into a dead rouleau

And you and I so un-suspect
Of pending alchemy
Believing we were safe inside
Cocoons of normalcy.

Our naiveté so firmly grasped
Caused us to belie
The chaos we knew not …
‘twas there, and drawing nigh

As Wind fingers touched him
He yelled out his decree:
“ The Prince of Avarice shall reign
And destroy Democracy!”

His school of ghouls, dunce and fools
Clamored to his side
Greed having won the day
Was about to take It’s ride!

Greed, first blessed the banks
And Wall Street did rejoice
The Prince of Avarice then silenced
All protestor ‘s voice

With lies and propaganda
All fabricated well
Then all the bankers rang
The borrowers death knell

Morgan Stanley, AGI,
Then ‘twas Goldman-Sachs
Raking in what Greed gave out:
Billions in green-backs.

Glutted bankers,
Through laughter Greed had honed
Uncaringly showed the world
A prediction - their prodrome

Of broken dreams, foreclosure schemes
Insuring that which failed
But jobs the cost, as homes were lost
And not a banker jailed.

When something snaps
The ****** all bolt
Dogs out the traps
We all collapse
Down the plughole
Like turned on taps
Jaded expats
Bourbon, poker
All throw craps
Black top hats
Line the road
Like mourning bats
Marital spats
Crystal prisms
Where love refracts
Wear navy slacks
Stare out to sea
As mars attacks
Nightmares hide facts
Flattened like focaccia
Under fifteen all-blacks
Fuss over Goldman sachs
You know we only blink
When it's the shirt on our backs

did we know that today
in 2016 we'd be reading the future
about the Great American
soft
depression interlaced
August 16 with Lehman
Goldman
Sach King David
how this time it will be
different but the bubble
starting
in 1995 always burst
even if its only two years
later Elizabeth Montgomery
died we were joining the Academic Mafia
around Circle Drive
Korean BBQ
Blues Caravan and
cruising around East Los
in a Blue Toyota pickup truck
now
there's a parked Prius
because we're too busy
running
numbers a racket
in Cambridge that leaves us
just a bit of fried egg in the morning
with coffee vorleser-ing and documenting
just
as any moral Hannah would do
in 1939 to say hey this is the way
we wanted right boxcars leading
to abattoirs today we do our best
imitation
of a weak McNamara
mea culpa

you are the Pres
Oh Donald Trump
it seems like America
has hit a bump

your pitiful braggart
mean as a cuss
a bludgeon for a mouth
with a mind full a ****

its understood
you hate the press
you like the shadows
to relieve your stress

well big boy
you are the man
some people say
your loved by the clan

thanks for telling us
about the size of your *****
while conservatives smile
and give it a lick

your a star studded pageant
of confusion and lies
do you work for Putin
are you one of his spies

show us your taxes
are you a ***** for a foe
are you owned by a devil
we need to know

your purging the swamp
is that what you say
Exxon and Goldman-sax
so thats how you play

you talk so big
why not give it a rest
lets see what you can do
besides be a pest

it doesn't bode well
that you don't pay your bills
let subcontractors go under
so what if it kills

break up some families
of Latin decent
with a heart like a razor
are you really that bent

are you big blabber mouth
but don't a have clue
about our constitution
that keeps us true

we trust you completely
let your kids to the job
no problem at all
are you still friends with the mob

are ethics for others
ah to hard for Trump
will America wither
are you cancerous lump

we need some one
who can help us out
not a reckless fool
that fills us with doubt

you are the Pres
Oh Donald Trump
it seems like America
has hit a bump

Since music is part of the headwear, most of the colors
of death in the air is about two amino acids, but it is
Latin to place stars on other flags, golden gold from America.
Changes for the musicians in the sunshine,
you are on your way. The wind zone of The queen of the sea
is in the early hours of the morning. I dropped in cold war.
The beauty of the British English-Asian team lost his wife,
John is in the heart of Sky Europe Baloo snooch blue spirit
July Goddess woman to return from Jesus devil evil rains
in Russia If you are a friend from the hand of food, garden;
The radio satellite square of the series of titles called SMA
French is full of fun games for children, six and six,
full of hope and Rs. A book about worrying, but the old word is true,
for example, to the image of Russia with the power
of the eagle under the stars. Igor is very tense.
There is a spirit. There are many words about nature.
Decorative jewelry and waiting for the mouth
and tongue are salty, *****, crazy, cool in the mirror
and work like an external wall stone. Find what
we did not find. The purpose of the gods you have
to say in the name of the image is to take half
the leaves by your feet to drink wine, to be gay, up,
and mother and like smoke to the feet in socks,
as you do of water, jellyfish materials at the Museum
of Asian Lands; bad news, my Perkins, Einstein's tree
and school board pictures of Einstein's users who
have been asked to sleep in the middle of the sun,
or burned in the middle of Los Angeles at the Los Angeles host.
The water waves of the mountains went to the drunken prophet
of the Chinese, but a man of Goldman Sachs was often
involved in the Alchemy of Bettie's wounds written
to all the host of many who have met the general.
Dogs on the ground? taken ill falls on his side,
the arms of the preparation of the grace we receive,
but not to create the council of holy happiness,
in fact, it is the least sign for women's leaders,
since music is a part of the head of the fair pole,
most of the color of death in the air about two elbows
of amino acids, but it is a Latina to the stars
and other brands of fire, the head of gold from America.
The exchange of money is for the poet in the glory of the sun,
it was on his way. The air space The queen of the sea
in the morning hours. I left the cold war. The beauty
of the young Greek English-Asian team had lost his wife,
John is in the heart of the Sky over Europe's Baloo snooch's
blue spirit of the July Goddess woman to return from Jesus' evil
devil dog in Russia; If you are a friend from the hands
of the food the radio garden drinks squares of the series
of dreams called ****, French in questions full of high games
for babies, children and an overheated
six-year-old full of hope and said Rs.
A book about the crisis, but the old saying is true,
for example, to the image of Russia,
with a strong wind of poetry under the stars.
Igor is a very big one. There is a spirit.
There is a lot of talk about nature.
The ladies ornaments standing up and waiting
for mouths and tongues to twist, feels *****, crazy,
knowing the feeling in the mirror
and running like a stone to get outside the park.
Search the invisible. The lips of the gods
he has to speak in the name of the game
is to move half of the leaf by means of her feet
so that she drinks the wine, to be gay in the mountains
and a mother and as the smoke goes to the feet
out of socks as it comes out of the water,
the jellyfish instruments in the Museum
of the province of Asia; bad news, my Perkins,
the wood and the Einstein public library is a picture
of Einstein's strippers asked to sleep in the middle of sleep,
or sleep in the middle of Los Angeles in Los Angeles
consumer separator. The waves of the mountains up
to the Chinese drink prophet,
but a man of the Goldman Sachs frequency
of the Alchemy of Bettie's coal has written
to the full army, many of whom have met the general.
Pieces of dogs on the ground? torn,
and fell on his knees, the arms of the preparation
of the grace received, but not so much as to create a circle of holy joy,
in fact, a very thin plaque of women leaders.
When music is part of a tree handsome head hot,
the color of a particular amino acid death of three feet;
But I do not have a Latina's stars of torches
came to the fire, the head of the American gold.
He has gone the poet is one glory of the sun,
the money is the change. Air space. The queen of the sea
in the morning hours. Come out of the cold war.
And beauty is a young Greek English Asian
who follows lost the wife of John and sits in the heart of the Sky
over Europe's Baloo snooch, July woman blue goddess spirit
to come home Jesus' bad dog hell up Russian. |
If you are a friend of the hands of the food,
beverage numbers French garden square
Dream in question to call the small radius
of the baby is not full of games into the deep,
had six sons, the heat is 3, and the said Rs,
full of hope. A book critical of the old but true,
for example to the image of Russia,
a strong wind at the foot of poetry's living stars.
Igor is very rich.
It is a siege against. There is a lot of talk about nature.
When the first robot breaks cultural fields
and the sky sweet child has the right
to walk around the core of the destruction
of memory friend Ringers poet.
The ornaments of the women
were standing waiting mouths of the tongue's laps,
***** feet, madness, knowing the feeling of a mirror,
he is running as a stone out of the park. Look for the invisible.
of the gods he shall speak in the name of the game
to do the media, newspapers apt to be moved by means of the lips,
that sends forth the feet of the drinking of the wine to be gay,
in the mountains and mothers: for a smoke shall come,
like the socks on the feet of the instruments from the Medusa
in the Asian Museum and Aquarius; bad news, my lady Perkins,
a tree, and Einstein's library has asked for the public image
of Einstein's sleep in the middle of the strippers
from the sleep of the Angels in the central dream
of the Los Angeles painted stripper. Hills wet with the waves of the
came to the prophet, came to drink, they began to perfect
the Chinese writing on the inside Alchemy of Bettie,
was filled with a crowd came up to meet with the man
of Goldman Sachs computation to many Gen.
the feet of the monster of the city and led him to **** a Christian
and had taken of the origin of some other thing,
and the color of the flame and brought him
to Rattan. The dogs pieces of country? torn, and fell upon my knees,
fell in love with the kind of the institution
of the arms of the holy women also, your joy,
far and near, that of all of the world revolution
and the leaders' present an infirmary
and a very thin plate. Since it is part of the running rings,
the majority of dead memories of death in the air
are two amino acids, but the stars and other artifacts
are the Latin American golden gold.
Changes to musicians in the solar radiation are:
You're on your activity. The Queen's Queen is awake in the early morning.
I stopped the Cold War. English, English, English, English,
English, French, English, French, English, French, English,
French, English, French, French, Spanish, French and Spanish,
And six, hope and despair. The book about depression,
for example, the old word is the correct Russian language,
with the power of the stars. Jiang is very hard. There is a spirit.
There are several words about nature. Stunning jewelry
and glazes, *****, crazed, crystal-clear lamps,
and the exterior walls are awesome. Find what we have not obtained.
The purpose of the gods you speak of in the name of the image
is to take part in your hands, become homosexuals,
and mothers, and even to your feet like water works,
Museum of Asian Art Museums, Bad news, my Pentecens,
the stereo tree and the school board were asked to sleep
in the sun or in the city of Los Angeles, USA,
incinerated by fire. The waves of the mountains
are moving to the screams in China. However,
adult male Sheik Aged was generally a bipolar ulcer
with a large group of people. Dogs on Earth?
The gifts we have received are not at the expense
of the weak, but on the side of the oppressors,
not the creation of God's love, but at least a symbol
of women leaders. Since music is part of the headgear,
most of the color of death in the air is about two
amino acids, but it is Latin to stars and other flags,
golden gold from America. Changes are for the musicians
in the sunshine, you are on your way. The wind zone;
The queen of the sea in the early hours of the morning.
I dropped in cold war. The beauty of the British English-Asian team
lost his wife, John is in the heart of Sky Europe
Baloo snooch blue spirit July Goddess woman
to return from Jesus' devil
evil rains in Russia If you are a friend
from the hand of the food garden; The radio satellite
squared of the series of titles called  French is full of fun
games for children, six and six, full of hope and Rs.
A book about worrying, but the old word is true,
for example,
to the image of Russia, with the power of the eagle
under the stars. Igor is very tense. There is a spirit.
There are many words about nature. Decorative jewelry
and waiting until the mouth and tongue are salty, *****,
crazy, cool in the mirror and works like an external
wall of stone.  Find what we did not find. The purpose
of the gods you have to say the name of the image
is to take half the leaves by your feet to drink wine, ||
to be gay, up and a mother like smoke to the feet socks,
as you do of water, jellyfish materials at the Museum
of Asian Lands; bad news, my Perkins, Einstein's tree
and school board are pictures of Einstein's users who
have been asked to sleep in the middle of the sun,
or burned in the middle
of Los Angeles at the Los Angeles host.
The water waves of the mountains went
to the drunken prophet of the Chinese,
but a man from Goldman Sachs was often performing
Alchemy on Bettie's wounds written
to all the host of many who had met the general.
Dogs on the ground? has taken ill, and falls on his side,
the arms of the preparation of the grace we receive,
but not to create the council of holy happiness,
in fact, the least sign for women's leaders.

Music is a part of a hat, so most of the color of the death
in the atmosphere is about 2 amino acids,
but Latin is Latin in American gold and stars.
Changes are to you for the sunlight musicians.
The area of ​​the wind The queen of the sea
is in the early morning. I fell into the Cold War.
British English - the beauty of the Asian teen lost his wife,
John Sky Europe Baloo Snooky Blue Spirit
In the heart of the goddess of July the Russian devil
is in the heart of the goddess' If you are a friend
from the Garden's SMALL Radio Satellite Square
in a series of titles called French is full of fun and games
for Hope and R Full Kids, 6 and 6. Although it is a book
on worry, the old words are the truth, for example,
the image of Russia, the power of the eagle under the stars.
Igor is very nervous. There is a spirit. There are many
words about nature. Waiting for decorative jewelry,
her mouth and tongue works like salty, *****, crazy,
mirrored, exterior wall stone. I will find what we did not find.
The purpose of God you have to say in the name
of the image is to drink wine, become gay, up, and mother,
take half of the feet like water like smoke in foot socks,
Asian Jellyfish materials at the museum of land, bad news,
my Perkins, Einstein Tree and Board of Education
were asked to sleep in the middle of the sun,
Einstein's user photos, or in the middle of Los Angeles
at Los Angeles host It is a baked picture.
The wave of the mountain water went to a drunk
Chinese prophet, but the man of Goldman Sachs
was often an alchemist of Betty scars,
written to many people who met the shogun.
Is the dog on the ground? We took the weapon
of the preparation of grace; we received
and dropped it to the side but in fact
it was not able to recreate the council of sacred happiness.
Music is a part of a hat, so most of the color of the death
in the atmosphere is about 2 amino acids, but Latin is Latin
in American gold and stars. Changes are to you
for the sunlight musicians. The area of ​​the wind
The queen of the sea is in the early morning. I fell into the Cold War.
British English - the beauty of the Asian team lost his wife, John Sky Europe's Baloo Snooky Blue Spirit In the heart of the goddess
of July the Russian devil is in the heart of the goddess'
If you are a friend from the Garden of SM Radio's Satellite
Square in a series of titles called French is full of fun games
for Hope and R Full Kids, 6 and 6.
Although it is a book on worry,
the old words are the truth, for example,
in the image of Russia, the power of the eagle
under the stars. Igor is very nervous. There is a spirit.
There are many words about nature.
Waiting for decorative jewelry and
mouth and tongue works like salty, *****,
crazy, mirrored, exterior wall stone.
I will find what we did not find. The purpose of God
you have to say in the name of the image is to drink wine,
become gay, up, and mother, take half of the feet
like water like smoke in foot socks, Asia Jellyfish
materials at the museum of land, bad news, my Perkins,
Einstein Tree and Board of Education were asked
to sleep in the middle of the sun, Einstein used photos,
or in the middle of Los Angeles at Los Angeles host;
It is a baked picture. The wave of the mountain
water went to a drunk Chinese prophet,
but the men from Goldman Sachs were often alchemists
of Betty's scars, written to the many people
who met the shogun. Is the dog on the ground?
We took the weapon for the preparation
of grace we received and dropped it to that side ||
but alas, it was not able to recreate the Council of Sacred Happiness.

vote for nobody
because nobody cares
that you're a wage-slave
that healthcare is astronomical
and college is unaffordable

nobody tells the truth
about global warming
nobody gives a ****
about smashing the patriarchy
nobody understands that
black lives matter

and since nobody
has an ounce of
integrity it's in our
own best interest
to let nobody have
all the power

if nobody can stop
the endless war and
ubiquitous surveillance
apparatus that subjects
the world to invasive
violations of privacy
then i will give
nobody my support

nobody pledges allegiance
to all brothers and sisters
and organisms on planet Earth
and feels the weight
of each life crushed
by the gears of capitalism

nobody sits alone in
the school cafeteria
nobody begs for change
on the front-steps
of Goldman Sachs
nobody pirouettes atop
a Charging Bull

nobody stares
back at you
in the mirror

a vote for nobody is
a vote for everyone

Dead people are no doubt bored, so I'm sure these folks would be happy for free food and conversation. Of course, this is just a partial list, subject to addition and deletion. Feel free to add your own in comments.

Buddha, but a light lunch.
Jesus, but kosher of course.
******, come on, who wouldn't.
James Joyce, just to mock him.
George Washington, to try to catch him in a lie.
Hemingway, but just for drinks.
Reagan, to deliver some Depends.
Bakunin, for mutual aid.
William Butler, my ancestor who survived The Wheatfield at Gettysburg.
Audrey Hepburn, but a date, not lunch.
Ingmar Bergman, just to cheer me up.
Ervin Schrödinger, about that cat.
Shakespeare, because I've always wanted to meet an extra-terrestrial.
Ezra Pound, to tell him he was right about usury.
God, to let her know how disappointed I am.
Richard Nixon, so I could drive a stake through his heart.
Julia Child, just to hear her voice again.
Lenin, because he was a self-starter.
Mozart, because he would be fun.
Emma Goldman, to dance.
James Dean, as we look so much alike.
Janis Joplin, because I might get lucky.

Come on, I'm sure you can add to the list. Don't be shy, try.

mce

splinter of existence creepin' thru skin
when judgement day is scarin' ya guys
temples beatin' 888 beats per minute
as dreams of shelter be passin' by

remember merciless bob, the hyena?
used to shoot bullets like rashid stoogie
always mind da project's family tree, b
watts to frankfurt via lima, diz how we be

brothaz, almans, multihood, escalade in chrome
osmans *** some, naber abi, bana parayi ver
you won't survive the massacre of greed
palms grow inside frankfurt's wildlife

GBS, TPB, LA MINA, HOLZI, NORDI, BOKI
dey be too fierce for dem knocko boys
no jammin', silver colts in montenegro
special forces, dejan, heroine, grenades

choki predicted da richness, we be floatin'
ari goldman tower, sandstone, platinum coke
yugos, habibis, moruks, almans, pashto
marokks, habeshas, albans and kurds

man bites dog, anti-traitor, snares
lacerated cable, flashdeath in red and blue
palermo, cosa nostra, secret shipment
da antagonist be chained 'gainst ya brain, bro

we tear up pavements since we rule da planet
massacres, new age, 36ers, crenshaw, headrush
day of vendetta bros, senait forgot how to *** back
street dust be what ya smellin' in da projectz

bent body, similar to deceased city doves
her soul be glintin' among da 5-0 sirens
large scale operation, silverblack corpses
black dots in front of ya eyes, sista

harlem river houses, homeshadows, dough
the ghetto raises fierce and bloodthirsty men
2 for 60, flip it into 90 and mind the cut, kwame
ya peeps gotta eat, and don't forget youse momz

let's build towers from all dem stacks, luv bellywood
our camouflage be immaculate like 90% pure
rides on champagne in times of evil blood
we light up the night and rightfully keep turf

our home be 36 souls away, slums and the hamptons
in the kitchen, da fiend's addiction is boiling
e guitar sounds, we overrun ya people
and don't ya fear jail, we reign institutionz

witches adorn the front covers
of ecofeminist zines
in an anarchist bookstore
nestled on the Left Bank
of Seattle's waterfront

rare rays of sunlight
filter through sheer curtains
photons glimmering
through fading droplets
clinging to cracked panes
refracting multicolor

i sit in the window-seat
listening to a homeless
balladeer's somber renditions
of Jonny Cash and Woodie Guthrie
serenading the locals bustling
down Pike Street Market
while the Olympic Mountains
keep their vigil
across a lonely bay

Emma Goldman whispers
for Alexander Berkman
and i balance on mismatched cushions
considering Proudhon's insistent
inquiries while Bakunin smirks  
nursing secret heresies of insurrection

colorful posters are paper-machéd
across the walls with slogans of struggle
scrawled in sisterhood and solidarity
stickers plaster the narrow halls
encouraging visitors to Smash Capitalism!
or Read A ******* Book
as jam-packed patrons chance
sly peaks at the black flag
suspended in the back room

a faint breeze flutters intermittently
drifting across the open threshold
lifting spirits as if sifting
through grains of sand
not unlike a child
digging for answers
armed with one
monosyllabic question

why?

the banner
cheerfully pirouettes  
for a revolution
without dancing
is not one worth having

LOVE AND LOVERS

by

TOD HOWARD HAWKS


Chapter 1

Jon walked down Broadway Thursday toward Tom’s to eat breakfast. He had taken this stroll hundreds of times after being at Columbia for five years during which he had eaten breakfast at all possible alternatives and found Tom’s to be categorically the best in Morningside Heights. It was a beautiful Fall morning. Monday he would begin the second and last school year at Columbia and in the Spring he would receive his MFA from the School of the Arts.

When Jon entered Tom’s, he was stunned. Sitting three down in aisle 3 on the right side in a booth by herself was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. After standing still for a few moments, Jon slowly walked toward this woman and stopped, then spoke.

“Hi, I’m Jon Witherston. May I join you?”

The young woman responded, “Sure.” Jon sat down.

“I’m Bian Ly. It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

“I’m assuming you’re a student at Columbia,” said Jon.

“Yes, I’m a senior at the College. Are you also a student?” asked Bian.

“Yes, I am. In fact, I graduated from Columbia College a year ago. Next Spring, I’ll be receiving my MFA from the School of the Arts. I’m a poet,” said Jon.

“A poet! How wonderful!,” exclaimed Bian.

“Thank you, Bian. What’s your major?” asked Jon.

“I'm majoring in Human Rights,” replied Bian.

“The world needs to major in Human Rights!” said Jon.

Bian smiled.

At that point, the waitress came over and took their orders. Both wanted breakfast.

“That is a beautiful ring you are wearing on your little finger,” said Bian.

“That a Nacoms ring,” said Jon. “Nacoms is a senior society at the College. I was selected to be a member,” said Jon. “I was Head of NSOP. Where are you from, Bian?

“I’m from Hanoi,” said Bian.

“Hanoi is a long way from Topeka, Kansas where I grew up, but I did come East to attend Andover,” said Jon.

“I also attended boarding school, but in Hanoi, not Massachusetts. I graduated from Hanoi International School,” said Bian.

“It seems we have a lot in common,” said Jon.

The waitress brought their breakfasts, which they started eating.

After finishing their meals, the two chatted for about twenty minutes, then Jon said, “Bian, before I bid you a good rest of your day, I’d like to ask you if you might like to join me to visit the Guggenheim Museum to see a showing of Vasily Kandinsky’s paintings this Saturday afternoon then be my guest for dinner at your favorite Italian restaurant in Morningside Heights.”

“I’d love to,” replied Bian.

“I’ll pick you up about 2 p.m. Where do you live?” asked Jon.

“I live in Harley Hall,” said Bian.

“Hartley Hall–that’s where I lived all four years during my undergraduate days,” remarked Jon. “ You’ve got a couple of days to pick out your favorite Italian restaurant,” added Jon. “I’ll wait in the lobby for you.”

Bian smiled again and got out of the booth.

“See you this Saturday at 2,” Jon said as he waited for Bian to leave first. Then he just sat in the booth for a while and smiled, too.


Jon arrived at Hartley Hall a bit early Saturday afternoon. He sat in the lobby on a soft leather sofa. Hartley Hall. Columbia. Four years. It had been an amazing time. Chad Willington, a fellow Andover graduate from Richmond, Virginia, was his roommate all four years. A tremendous swimmer, Chad had been elected captain of the team both his junior and senior years. He was now working at Goldman Sachs on Wall Street. Jon’s most cherished honor while he was at the College was being elected by his 1,400 classmates to be one of 15 Class Marshals to lead the Commencement Procession.

Bian came into the lounge. She looked beautiful.

“How are you, Bian? Are you ready to go see Kandinsky?” asked Jon.

“Indeed, I am,” said Bian.

“Let’s go, then,” said Jon.

The two walked across campus on College Walk to Broadway where Jon hailed a cab.

“Please take us to the Guggenheim Museum,” Jon told the cabbie. The cab cut through Central Park to upper 5th Avenue.

“We’re here,” said Jon and paid and tipped the cabbie.

The Guggenheim itself was a spectacular piece of architecture designed by Frank Lloyd Wright that spiraled into the blue sky. Jon paid for the admission tickets, then both entered the museum and took the elevator to the top of the building. Then began the slow descent to the bottom on the long, spiraling walkway, pausing when they wanted to the see a Kandinsky painting closely and talking with each other about it.

Vasily Kandinsky was a Russian painter and theorist, becoming prominent in
the early decades of the 20th Century. Having moved first from Russia to Germany, he then went to France. Kandinsky was a pioneer of abstraction in Western art. He was keenly interested in spiritual expression:  “inner necessity” is what he called it.

It took quite a while to make their way down the spiraling ramp, stopping at almost every painting to share their views. Finally, Bian and Jon reached the bottom.

“Well, that was most interesting,” said Bian.

“I agree,” said Jon. “Have you decided which is your favorite Italian restaurant in Morningside Heights, Bian?” asked Jon.

“Pisticci,” said Bian.

“Let's go!,” said Jon.

They took a cab to Pisticci. The waiter brought them menus, which they began to peruse.

“You first,” Jon said to Bian.

“I would like the Insalata Pisticci (bed of baby spinach tossed with potatoes and pancetta with balsamic reduction). Then Suppe Minestrone (with a clear tomato base and al dente vegetables). Finally, I would like the Fettuccine Al Fungi (handmade fettuccine tossed with a trio of warm, earthy mushrooms and truffle oil),” concluded Bian.

Jon followed. “I would also like the Insalata Pisticci, then the Suppe Minestrone, followed by the Pappardelle Bolognesse, then the Burrata Caprese. Thank you.”

Bian and Jon ate their meals in candlelight.

“Tell me about growing up in Hanoi,” Jon asked Bian.

“I am an only child, Jon. My father is Minh Ly and my mother is Lieu. My father was the youngest General in the war;  nevertheless, he rose to second in command. He has been a businessman now for a long time.

“My childhood was like those of most children. As I grew older, I loved playing volleyball. I read a lot. I began learning English at an early age. I had lots of friends. I love my father and mother very much.”

“Why did you come to Columbia,” asked Jon.

“Columbia, as you know, is one of the greatest universities in the world, and it’s in New York City,” said Bian.

“Why did you choose to major in Human Rights, Bian,” asked Jon.

“The world, and the people and all other living creations on it, need kindness and love to heal. All have been sick for millennia. I would like to help heal Earth,” said Bian.

Jon was struck by Bian’s words. He felt the same as Bian.

The two continued to share more with each other. Finally, it was time to go.

They took a cab back to campus and Jon escorted Bian back to Hartley Hall.

“I’d like to exchange phone numbers with you. Is that OK with you?” Jon asked.

“Of course,” said Bian.

“Thank you for a wonderful day, Bian,” said Jon.

“And you the same, Jon,” said Bian.

Another shift, another day, Another buck to spend or save
A million riders, maybe more, delivered to their office door
Or maybe warehouse maybe store.
Or church or shul or city school, right on time as a rule.

Clickety, clackety, clickety, clee,
I am New York, the City’s me
Come let me ride you on my knee
From Coney Isle to Pelham Bay
From Bronx to Queens eight times a day.

Ride my trains, New Yorkers do
And you’ll learn a thing or two
About the City up above, the one some hate, the one some love.
On the street they work like elves
Down below they’re just themselves.

Through summer’s heat they still submerge,
Tempers held (though always on the verge),
They push, they shove – just like above –
The crowds will jostle, then finally merge.

Downtown to work and then back to sleep
They travel just like farm-herded sheep.
In through this gate and out the other,
Give up a seat to a child and mother,
Just don’t sit too close to that unruly creep!

With these crowds huddled near
Just ride my trains with open ear,
There’s lots of tales for you to hear.


Dis stop is 86th Street, change for da numbah 4 and 5 trains.  Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.   77th Street is next.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     I’m Doctor Z, Doctor Z are me
     I’ll fix your face or the visit’s free.
     Plastic surgery, nips and tucks
     You’ll be looking like a million bucks.

     Looka those pitchas, ain’t they hot?
     You’ll look good, too, like as not!
     Just call my numbah, free of toll
     Why should you look like an ugly troll?

     You’ll be lookin good like a rapster
     Folks start stealing your tunes on Napster
     Guys’ll love ya, dig your face
     Why keep lookin like sucha disgrace?

     Call me up, you’re glad you did
     Ugly skin you’ll soon be rid.
     Amex, Visa, Mastercard,
     Payment plans that ain’t so hard.

     So don’t forget, pick up that phone
     Soon’s you get yourself back home.
     I’ll have you looking good, one, two three
     Or else my name ain’t Doctor Z.


Dis stop is 77th Street, 68th Street Huntah College is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     It was a limo, now it’s the train;
     Tomorrow’s sunshine, but now it’s rain.
     The market’s mine, for taking and giving
     It’s the way I earn my living.

     Today’s losses, last week’s gain.
     A day of pleasure, months of pain.
     We sold the puts and bought the calls;
     We loaded up on each and all.

     I’ve seen it all, from Fear to Greed,
     Good motivators, they are, both.
     The fundamentals I try to heed
     Run your gains and avoid big loss.

     Rates are down, I bought the banks
     For easy credit, they should give thanks.
     Goldman, Citi, even Chase
     Why are they still in their malaise?

     “The techs are drek,” I heard him say
     But bought more of them, anyway.
     I rode the bull, I’ll tame the bear
     I’ll scream and curse and pull my hair.

     So why continue though I’m such a ****?
     I’ll cut my loss if I find honest work.



Dis is 68th Street Huntah College, 59th Street is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     He rides the train from near to far,
     In and out of every car.
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”
     Some folks buy them, most do not,
     Are they stolen, are they hot?
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”

     Who would by them, even a buck?
     What’re the odds they’re dead as a duck?
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”
     Why not the Lotto, try your luck,
     Or are you gonna be this guy’s schmuck?
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”


Dis is 59th Street, change for de 4 and 5 Express and for de N and de R, use yer Metrocard at sixty toid street for da F train.  51st Street is next. Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     “Dat guy kips ****** wit me, Wass he
     tink, I got time for dat ****?  Man, I
     got my wuk to do, I ain gona put
     up with him
     no more.”

          “I don’t know what to tell this dude. Like,
          I really dig him but
          ***?  No way.  And
          He’s getting all too smoochie face.”

     “Right on, bro, slap dat fool up
     side his head, he leave you lone.”

          “Whoa, send him my way.  When’s the last
          time I got laid?  I’m way ready.”

          “Oh, Suzie,..”


Dis is fifty foist Street, 42nd Street Grand Central is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin doors.



     Abogados es su amigos, do you believe the sign?
     Are they really a friend of mine?
     Find your lawyer on the train
     He’ll sue if the docs ***** up your brain.

     Pick a lawyer from this ad
     (I’m sure that you’ll be really glad)
     You’ll get a lawyer for your suit,
     Mean and nasty, not so cute.

     Call to live in this great nation
     1-800-IMMIGRATION.
     Or if your bills got you in a rut
     1-800-BANK-RUPT.

     We’re just three guys from Flatbush, Queens
     Who’ll sue that ******* out of his jeans.
     Mama’s proud when she rides this train
     To see my sign making so much rain.

     No SEC no corporations
     We can’t find the United Nations.
     Just give us torts and auto wrecks
     And clients with braces on their necks.

     Hurting when you do your chores?
     There’s money in that back of yours.
     Let us be your friend in courts
     Call 1-800-SUE 4 TORTS.


Dis is 42nd Street, Grand Central, change for the 4, 5 and 7 trains. Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Toity toid is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


They say there’s sev’ral million a day
From out in the ‘burbs, they pass this way.
Most come to work, some for to play
They all want to talk, with little to say.

Bumping and shoving, knocking folks down
A million people running around.
The hustle, the bustle the noise that’s so loud
Get me far from this madding crowd.

“We can be shopping instead of just stopping
And onto the next outbound train we go hopping.
Hey, it’s a feel that that guy’s a-copping!”

They want gourmet food, from steaks down to greens
Or neckties and suits, or casual jeans,
It’s not simply newspapers and magazines
For old people, young people, even for teens.


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is Thoidy toid Street, twenty eight is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     “So what’s the backup plan if
     He doesn’t get into Trevor Day?
     I know your
     heart’s set on it, but we’ve only
     got so many strings we
     can pull, and we can’t donate a
     ******* building.”

           “Hooda believed me if I tolja the Mets
          would sail tru and the Yanks get dere
          by da skinna dere nuts?
          I doan believe it myself.  Allya
          Gotta do is keep O’Neil playin hoit
          And keep Jeter off his game an
          We’ll killum.

               “My sistah tell me she be yo *****.  I tellya I cut you up if you
                ****** wid her, I be yo ***** and donchu fuggedit.”

     “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.
     And we can just **** good and
     Well find some more strings to pull!”

          “Big fuggin chance.  Wadder ya’ smokin?”

               “Yo sitah she ain my *****, you be my *****.  I doan be ******
                wid yo sistah.  You tell her she doan be goin round tellin folks
                dat ****.”


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is Twenty eight Street, twenty toid is next.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     Do you speak Russian, French or Greek,
     We’ll assimilate you in a week.
     If Chinese is your native tongue
     You’ll speak good English from day one.

     Morning, noon, evening classes
     Part or full time, lads and lasses.
     You’ll be sounding like the masses
     With word and phrase that won’t abash us.

     Language is our stock in trade
     For us it’s how our living’s made.
     We’ll put you in a class tonight
     Soon your English’ll be out of sight.

     If you’re from Japan or Spain
     Basque or Polish, even Dane,
     Our courses put you in the main
     Stream without any need for pain.

     We’ll teach you all the latest idioms
     You’ll be speaking with perfidium.
     We’ll give you lots of proper grammar
     Traded for that sickle and hammer.

     Are you Italian, Deutsch or Swiss?
     With our classes you can’t miss
     The homogeneous amalgamation
     Of this sanitized Starbucks nation.


Dis is Twenty toid Street, 14th Street Union Square is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin doors.


     “Ladies and Gentlemen, I hate to bother you
     But things are bleak of late.
     I had a job and housing, too
     Before my little quirk of fate.”

     “There came a day, not long ago,
     When to my job I came.
     They handed me a pink slip, though,
     And ev’n misspelled my name.”

     “We’ve got three kids, my wife and me.
     We’re bringing them up right.
     They’re still in school from eight to three
     With homework every night.”

     “I won’t let them see me begging here,
     They think I go to work.
     Still to that job I held so dear
     Until fate’s awful quirk.”

     “So help us now, a little, please
     A quarter, dime (or dollar still better),
     It’ll go so far to help to ease
     The chill of this cold winter weather.”

     “I’ll walk the car now, hat in hand
     I do so hope you understand
     I’m really a proud, hard working man
     Whose life just slipped out of its plan.”

     “I thank you, you’ve all been oh so grand.”


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is 14th Street, Union Square, change for da 4 and 5 Express, the N and the R.   Astor Place is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     The hours are long, the pay’s no good
     I’m far from home and neighborhood.
     All day I work at Astor Place
     With sunshine never on my face.
     Candy bar a dollar, a soda more
     A magazine’s a decent score.
     Selling papers was the game
     But at two bits the Post’s to blame
     For adding hours to my long day.
     All the more work to save
     Tuition for that son of mine: that tall,
     Strong, handsome, American son


Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Yer at Astah Place, Bleekah Street is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     Summer subway’s always hot, AC’s busted, like as not
     Tracks are bumpy, springs are shot ‘tween the cars they’re smoking
     ***.

     To catch the car you gotta run they squeeze you in with everyone
     Just hope no body’s got a gun 'cause getting there is half the fun.

     Packed in this car we’re awful tight seems this way both day and
     night.
     And then some guys will start a fight.  Subway ride’s a real delight.

     Danger! Keep out! Rodenticide! I read while waiting for a ride.
     This is a warning I have to chide:  
     I’m very likely to walk downtown, but I’d never do it Underground.

     Took the Downtown by mistake.  Please, conductor, hit the brake!
     Got an uptown date to make, God only knows how long I’ll take.


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is Bleekah Street, Spring Street is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     The trains come through the station here,
     The racket’s music to my ear.
  &nbs

Deregulation.
Deregulation.
That's what Trump says
Is going to save the nation.

To hell with the environment
And social media activist memes.
Let the coal industry dump
Coal debris in rivers and streams.

Forget greenhouse gas emissions.
There are rules to rearrange,
Repeal, expunge, delete, rescind…
Who cares about climate change?

Good-bye to banking restrictions.
Give tighter controls the ax.
Down with all consumer protections!
Three cheers for Goldman Sachs!

Who needs the EPA?
Why do all the activists seethe
When factories pollute the air?
The air is JUST something we breathe.

Caveat emptor--
That's the rule that's going to last.
Caveat venditor
Will become a thing of the past.

Benefiting the 1%
Has to be a worthwhile goal.
How else will those at the top
Keep the people under control?

Through rollbacks in regulations
Runs one common thread:
Relief for the corporations;
The rest of us can all drop dead.

Deregulation.
Deregulation.
That, according to Donald Trump,
Is going to save the nation.

- by Bob B (4-17-17)