“Even the streets leading up to its outer barriers were roamed by gorilla-faced guards in black uniforms, armed with jointed truncheons.”
                                                    ­ George Orwell, 1984* (published in 1949)

Which brings us, of course, to the subject of torture since 1949.
Come with me to the Casbah, Babaloo.
We begin in the 1950s with the French in North Africa,
****** baguettes in Algeria,
Couilles frits, anyone?
Electrodes wired to Mustapha’s *****.
And "Bigeard's Shrimps,” as the bodies were called,
Dumped over the Mediterranean from aircraft,
All things considered a je ne sais quoi,
Though Camus and Sartre gave it a whack.

Then the 1960s: the CIA dabbling in mind-control and LSD.
Later, a Phoenix Program,
Very secretive, sympathies with the Cong required,
Various elders selected,
The village disinfected,
**, **, ** and a bowl of Pho.

Apartheid anyone?
Thirty years of South African terror & torture.
Torment in the townships,
Shaka Zulu gold and diamonds,
De Beers in Swaziland swing.

1971: riots at Attica,
Prisoners abused and tortured,
Rockefeller’s overcrowded slammer,
An upstate New York katzenjammer,
Nelson’s finger on the trigger,
39 dead and counting,
But who’s counting?

The CIA, back in the news in 1973,
Torture chambers under Chilean soccer stadiums,
And the Khmer Rouge:
Those Wacky Cambodians with skull racks.  
And let us not forget the British,
With centuries of colonial experience behind them,
Occupy six counties in Northern Ireland.
Finally codify the imperial process,
The Five Techniques:
Sounds like a Motown group,
Satin smooth colored boys,
But more method than music:
(1) Wall-standing,
(2) Hooding,
(3) Subjection to noise,
(4) Sleep deprivation,
(5) No food and drink.

And there’s a bunch of horrible ****,
We still don’t know about the Argentine ***** War,
And other Mai Lai-like,
****-fest massacres in Vietnam.

How about torture since 1984?
Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo,
Come quickly,
(www.prematureejaculatorsanonymous.com)
To mind,
As do US-sponsored rendition facilities,
Spread throughout the NATO alliance.
And closer to home, it’s never a dull moment in the 5 Boroughs:
Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, The Bronx and Manhattan.
Take your pick from Giuliani’s Greatest Hits,
Rudy Kazootie’s campaign of law and order,
Not necessarily in that order.
More awful than lawful,
A bathroom plunger rammed up,
The Haitian voodoo ****** of Abner Louima,
While he be handcuffed at a Brooklyn station house.
Or, the NYPD partying like it was 1999.
When in fact, it was1999,
And a curious death it was for Amadou Diallo,
Would-be American citizen from The Republic of Guinea,
(No connection to Italy or Italians),
Abner & Amadou: a pair of cautionary tales,
Either/or reflecting standard procedure for the Po-Po,
Time and time again from coast to coast.
Either/or: poor Abner, no Haitian Papa Doc.
Poor Amadou, on his way home from night school,
When police squeeze off 41 rounds,
Most of them in his direction,
Hitting him 19 times.
Just the facts, ma’am:
Diallo had reached into his jacket.
A trigger-happy police officer yells “Gun.”
A jungle warfare quartet springs into action:
Shenzi, Banzai, Ed & Zazu,
Four equally trigger-happy colleagues,
Empty their weapons.
No gun was found on Diallo,
Only the wallet he tried to pull out,
Containing his Green Card,
4 U.S. dollar bills;
And a laminated,
Credit card-sized copy of the U.S. Bill of Rights.
(I just didn’t know when to quit, did I?
The wallet was there with Green Card and the bucks,
But I made up the part about the Bill of Rights,
Trying to add poetry to tragedy, as usual.)

I don’t have to say much about Rodney King (RIP).
You watched it on TV a hundred times,
And a picture’s worth a thousand words.
Or ten thousand or a million, I suppose.
“Can’t we all just get along?” asked Rodney Glen King.

Last but not least there’s Kelly Thomas (RIP),
Another incidence of police insanity,
It was July of 2011 in Fullerton, California.
Thomas, a 37-year-old homeless man,
Schizophrenic, but unarmed,
Beaten to death at a bus depot,
During an altercation with six Fullerton police officers.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2019225/Kelly-Thomas-Poli­­ce-beat-taser-gentle-mentally-ill-homeless-man­-death.html#ixzz1e­3­4QnHtr

Mervyn Lazarus | Attorney | (www.mervlazarus.com) Police Brutality, Excessive Force and Jail Injury cases | California . . . Albuquerque

Jackie Chiles perfect attorney -YouTube, (www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpcEietIoxk) Nov 17, 2010 - 13 min - Uploaded by Kroeger22 All the scenes with Jackie Chiles from Seinfeld."Chiles is a parody of famed attorney Johnnie Cochran; both ... www.seinfeld.com

Perhaps the greatest torture of all,
Is that which artists subject us to.
Let us examine the case of Roberto Bolaño:
Roberto Bolaño, the great Chilean writer,
Tells a fabulous World War II story,
About a Spaniard--an Andalusian--
Fighting for the Germans against the Russians.
Captured by the Russians,
He is tortured for information.
The Spaniard speaks no Russian,
He knows only four words of German.
The Russian interrogators strap him into a chair,
Attach electrodes to his *****,
Attach pincers to his tongue.
The pain makes his eyes water.
He said--or rather shouts--the word coño.
It is Spanish for ****.
The pincers in his mouth,
Distort the expletive,
Which in his howling voice comes out as KUNST.
The Russian who knows German looks at him in puzzlement.
The Andalusian was yelling KUNST,
Yelling KUNST and crying in pain.
KUNST in German means art,
And that was what the bilingual Russian heard, KUNST.
“This ******* must be an artist or something.”
The torturers remove the pincers,
Along with a little piece of tongue,
And wait, momentarily hypnotized by the revelation:
The word ART had soothed the savage beasts.
So soothed, the savage beasts take a breather,
Waiting for some kind of signal.
Meanwhile, the Andalusian bleeds from the mouth,
Swallows his blood liberally mixed with saliva, and chokes.
The word coño,
Transformed into the word *KUNST,
Had saved his life.
It was dusk when he came out of the building.
Light stabbed at his eyes like midday sun.

So, it’s a fact that I love,
Truly love the simple blunt Anglo-Saxon expletive ****,
****: I pray that while I am being tortured some day,
I have the dignity to scream the word out loud.
And if I am screaming **** at the very end,
When my nervous system finally fails,
When I **** my pants,
When my pulmonic heart and lungs collapse,
Is that so bad?
Is that so wrong?

Do you realize that 1984 came--
Came and went, without any significant cultural hoopla?
The networks ignored it.
As did the cable pundits.
No significant comparative analysis between,
Orwell’s book 1984 and the year 1984,
Was broadcast electronically or publicized in print.
Steve Jobs got it, but as usual no one else did.
Mr. Jobs (RIP) did his best,
To mainstream its profound cultural relevance,
But ultimately failed,
Despite the $1.5 million he paid one of the networks,
To air a one minute nation-wide commercial,
During the 3rd Quarter,
Of Super Bowl XVIII,
January 22, 1984.
Despite Ridley Scott’s astonishing spell-binder,
His 60-second spot for The Macintosh 128K--
Still considered a watershed event,
And an advertising industry masterpiece,
…YouTube it and watch it.  (www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8ji0B98IMo).
See the hammer throwing athlete chick,
See her fling the sledge,
That huge sledgehammer,
Smash into Big Brother’s flat screen face.
Despite Jobs’ global presence,
Despite Steverino’s unfettered microphone access,
Whenever he felt an oraculation coming on,
Despite everything,
He was unable to move the powers that be,
To either hype the book or the prophecy come true.

So, what’s my point? I have two.
First, in April 1984 the estate of George Orwell,
And the television rights holder to the novel 1984,
Considered the edgy Jobs/Scott commercial to be,
A flagrant copyright infringement,
Sending a cease-and-desist letter to Apple Inc.
And the advertising agency that produced the spot: Chiat/Day Inc.
The commercial was never televised as a commercial after that.  
Score: Lawyers 1, Artists 0.

My second point is that in November 2011,
The U.S. government argued before the U. S. Supreme Court,
That it wants to continue utilizing GPS tracking of individuals,
Without first seeking a warrant.
In response, Justice Stephen Breyer (one of the sane ones),
Questioned what this means for a democratic society.
Referencing Nineteen Eighty-Four, Justice Breyer asked:
"If you win this case, then there is nothing,
To prevent the police or the government from monitoring 24/7,
The public movement of every citizen of the United States.
So if you win, you suddenly produce what sounds like 1984 . . .”*

My third point,
(Yeah, I know I said two, but *******.)
My third point is that I’m just so ******* angry,
All the time, late and soon like Wordsworth,
(Was anyone more aptly named?)
I am angry about so many different things,
And every day that goes by I relate more and more,
To the thousands of Americans that occupied,
Zuccotti Park and Oakland,
And countless other venues,
Out into the streets.
Across the country.
Around the world.  
I am humbled by their courage and perseverance.
Yet, I am afraid for them.
I am made paranoid by the scope and power,
Of the government,
Of the ruling class that controls it,
And the technology they allow us to embrace,
Technology’s sinister potential,
Now that more and more knowledge and information,
Has been digitized,
Existing only in cyberspace.                                                      ­                                                 
What frightens most is the realization,
That anyone with a word processor,
And access to the database could rewrite,
Any historical or legal document,
To fit the needs of a current agenda.
The scary part is—
Repeating myself for emphasis—
That anyone with a word processor
And access to the database could rewrite,
Any historical or legal document,
To fit the needs of a current agenda.

Does anyone out there give a ****?
Does anyone out there share my nightmare?
Do it to Julia.
Do it to Julia.

What colour are Mondays?
Red? Well mine are.
The same colour
you’d imagine a headache to be,
tomatoes, morello cherries
or like a nosebleed.

Does that mean Tuesdays are blue?
That mouthwash shade,
brain-freeze after a Slushie.
Wednesdays? Perhaps purpley-pink
as burning potassium,
Parma Violets under your tongue.

Thoughts on Thursdays?  Fake-tanned,
tangerine skin, the ugliest orange
for the ugliest day.
But Fridays are a healthier green,
think telephone-pole celery,
cucumber truncheons and kiwis.

Saturdays then? Funeral black
speckled with brown sugar
though Sundays are white.
Hurts-your-eyes-like-snow white,
almost transparent, for they come
and dash by with no tone in-between.

‘Twas but a rare, snowy day in Paris,
a January day, as all the lights of the city
rested, as dancers of the Moulin Rouge
fixed their make up during the intermission

And in the graveyard of Père Lachaise
there stood a solitary figure of an old man,
his hands gathered together politely,
in front, clenching on to a tattered flat cap

The man stood in front of a grey wall,
“a tomb without a cross or chapel,
or golden lilies, or sky-blue church windows,”
but with an equally lonesome little plaque
that read, ‘Aux mort de la commune,
21 28 Mai 1871’

He lit a cigarette, from which he took just one puff,
stuck it upside-down on a patch of dirt,
then notwithstanding the thunderstorm
of camera flashes from Japanese tourists,
he started to sing, with a hoarse yet firm voice,
“Debout, les damnés de la terre,
Debout, les forçats de la faim…”

As the wrinkle on his forehead began to stretch,
the dusty particles of ice piled higher and higher
on neighboring graves commemorating
French members of the International Brigades
and Spanish maquis of the French Resistance
-apparently the 3,400 meters height of Pyrenees
was merely a backyard *****
for ideas and fates to tread over barefooted-

His song was a ballad of unrequited passion;
when he got to the chorus about some final struggle
and the unity of human race in a silly hymn,
a song that was never played on a radio,
for which no cool kid would ever
spend $0.99 on iTunes store,
his voice started cracking in amorous choke

The old man was a lifetime lover
in the truest spirit of a Frenchman,
spent all his life trying to charm a girl named Emma Ries,
and whenever he dreamed of holding
the eloquently bruised hands of that sixteen years old seamstress,
his eyes swelled of nostalgic heart,

And he used to cry joyfully,
dropping tears of bullets back in the days,
whether by the guillotine in Place de la Concorde,
behind the barricades of Belleville amidst the cannonballs,
******* in front of the Gestapo firing squads,
or under the truncheons of gendarme in Quartier Latin

As the expired old ******* moaned wet dreams,
hallucinogic delusions of his bygone youth, however,
the chilly, soggy winter of 20th arrodissement piled on,
the ashen slums of Ménilmontant depressingly ugly as always
with brownish-grey molten snow spattered all over
the streets trotted by drug dealers and wife beaters,
and neither the fiery oratory of Maurice Thorez
nor the sanguine grenade of Colonel Fabien
was around to arson the frost into the proletarian spring

In the same winter that the old man sang
the first, only, and last lovesong of his life,
it had been more than two decades already
since the Berlin Wall had tumbled down
and the ruling parties in Greece and Spain,
both socialists,
had just driven 500,000 workers out of their jobs

-J.P. Proudhon, Marx and Engels, Jean Jaures, V.I. Lenin,
Leon Trotsky, Antonio Gramsci, Leon Blum, Abbie Hoffman-
by the time the old man muttered an old pop-song nobody cared for,
all of those names were as relevant as some Medieval knights,
characters from an obscure chronicle centuries ago,
who died by charging horseback into windmills,
mistaking them for giants that held whom they thought as
a princess of an ugly peasant woman,

Eventually, right before his voice cracked
into an embarrassing fuddle of choked-up tears,
impressive for a seventy something years old,
the man finished the song from his memory,
all the way up to the sixth stanza;
yet the curvaceously splintered palm of a seamstress,
it was still so far away from his hands that’s been pleading
since 1871 for that glorious *******
which once stood so proudly in the face of a Czernowitz magistrate

When the cigarette he stuck upside down on the dirt
burned all the way down, he reached into his coat,
took out a rose, laid it softly, like his own infant child,
in front of the plaque which golden inscriptions
turned grey from unwashed grimes of ages
and as the old fool walked away,
his back turned away from the solemn wall,
there was but one little patch of dirt in the whole of Paris
uncovered by snow, still hoping for the spring to come.

No, no, I haven’t been doing this myself,
but I live in Cambodia,
and 2 guys and a girl were deported recently
for riding around on a motorbike in the ****
in broad daylight. Actually, you see,
naively or deliberately,
they rode right past a police station.
Now that must have been a sight for sore eyes.
So the police set out in hot pursuit,
rubbing their sore eyes, or whatever they rub,
maybe their truncheons, eh?
And when the perps were pulled over,
the cops didn’t fall about with hilarity
when these riders said quite calmly
that they were going to pick up their laundry.
Truly! They were backpackers! As if that explained it.
But publicly, the cops said nope,
these perps are obscene to be seen like this
and they violate Khmer customs and culture.
The cops even took pictures of this outrageous obscenity.
Indeed. The riders' rapture of being bare assed
and naked and **** free is not for Cambodia.
Certainly not at this juncture.
So their capture resulted in them being deported,
never to show hide nor hair in the country again.
Just goes to show...
But you can get away with ****** here,
particularly shooting union leaders or critics or protestors,
or you can throw a grenade into the opposition,
and **** a few right there. Those killers go free.
It's probably dangerous to speak openly,
but I don't think these guys read poetry.
They're probably busy oiling their artillery,
and even rocket launchers, as the PM
threatened to use against the opposition recently.
Seriously.
They're on the lookout for dissenters here.
Oh yes. And bare *****. Obviously.
So watch you **** in Cambodia,
especially if it's bare on a bike.
And ssshhh! Watch out for your mouth.
You need to cover your mouth up properly, too.

Mike T Minehan

the day is passing like a riot
a cloud of people
chant the jailbird's song
a string of placards
encircled the throng
a meteoric rise in the atmosphere
has reigned in the souls of many a fist....

the heart of a crowd
is listening wildly
to speeches and voices
emphasizing a point
and views that each and
everybody shares
a unity that binds the masses

there is one man
that head the arms and bodies
of this throng
and he comes on strong
to those who have done
the nation wrong
a slim and simple being
seeing, seeking and wanting
some changes
some soothing replacement
to this scourging arrangement

the sun shines through him
and although wounded with scars
knowing one cell to the other,
he keeps the challenge
in his soul
and tried to reach a porch
in the sun
for his people, for his children
and for all that will come,
after him.....

Pity the wimpy Democrats
They suffer in defeat.
Year after year they don’t learn
Like Republicans you must cheat.
Stuff all the ballot boxes
And monkey with the machines.
You’ll never get a **** thing done
If you keep the elections clean.

And band together solidly
With your chosen party.
Lie and cheat and dissemble
And act like a pompous smarty.
Never worry about what is right.
Just brazen it through out loud.
It seems jerks do the best
When catering to the crowd.

Buy votes from everywhere
Especially from big industry;
Big Oil, Big Banks and Pharma
Kiss their butts shamelessly.
Make sure all the factions
That are stealing the country blind
Understand you have their backs
And treat all of the poor unkind.

Go on tour and television
And make out you’re the good guy:
Dare the opposition to debate
Then Ignore facts and lie.
Remember the public is stupid
And doesn’t know what goes on.
Run a crew of cheaters on the side,
It’s what elections depend on.

But most importantly, you must be
The most obnoxious candidate.
Start early and spend the bucks.
It’s deadly for you to start too late.
Run the most famous people:
They must be Christian and straight.
No matter how you cheat and lie
Promise America will be Great.

Cover your butts before you start.
Plant a lot of baseless rumors.
Make baseless stories about their past.
Swear voting wrong causes tumors.
Do what it takes, Democrats
The GOP has no compunctions
If they could just get by with it
They’d beat you with truncheons.

Tyres and fires burning
circles of rubber
Rolled down  black tongued roads
Heading to  city centre
Where  others meet
To greet the mighty ruler
With sword and soldiers dressed
In fibreglass shields, green helmets
truncheons with spikes backed water cannons
snipers on rooftops searching for vipers
to drill bullet holes

The tyres rolled in and rounded in a circle
Cutting off escape routes and
Dividing believers and  non-believers
Piled high, pulled tight with pitchfork  patience

The leaders orders more tyres.
Anything from cars, buses and bicycles
that could hold up the  chains of freedom.
Last desperate attempt - not to escape but die
In the ring of fire -soon lit
Underneath the tyres
Which created bursting black flames and bluegrey smoke
Rising above the rants of leaders and shooters
and crackling. Sparks that dulled the day
And lit the night with sparklers of power.

The paratroopers soon retreated into barracks
and the rioters took hold of the city keys,
And over broken glass and burnt buildings
settled in for the long haul to freedom.

The pawns moved on the chess board
  knights moved in the night,
The queen was cornered
and checkmate came when the hollow president
flew  the palace with his coterie of
ear chewers and shoe polishers!

The tyres burned slowly
the fires  burned down slowly.
Freedom came at dawn on the 21 st day
when the rubber factory churned out again
many new models of tyres with tougher treads.

The circle begins again today.
Author Notes

The Revolution continues. All common day gadgets that could burn and blister the new agenda is rolled down the road into the city centre where the
protesters gather to set fire to ambitious policies, unpopular with the people.

The fires from tyres will rage all night and day.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

She ran a boarding house in Boston,
But they used her size to terrorize men
And lead them to the lock-holes.
Or was she a lady clad in black ruffles,
Presented to the Queen in 1844?
Perhaps she was a racehorse
Foaled in Harlem and won a prize.
She had peddled drugs and run a gang
In the chaos of Civil War,
Black Mariah escaped from the darkness
Of Edison’s studio to roam the world,
But in it found herself re-imagined.
They named police wagons after her
It’s said, but no one knows the truth.
Did she cross the battle lines again,
To tread on civil rights?
Or swing the batons in Chicago
And fire rifles at Kent State?
She seems to take time out to charm
Gruff-voiced men who sing her praise.
She prowled the streets of Brixton,
In 1983, with truncheons at her side.
Through gas clouds, dragging men to jail.
Black Mariah is with us still,
Helping to create tyrants and traitors,
To stop the mouths of those who defy
She’s an accessory to the killing.

who holds the leash
of the pigs in the streets?  
follow the paper trail:
dead presidents
never fail to be the culprit.

it's not who
but what.
the police always
serve and protect
capital and property.
why else would they block
off a jewel store
during a peaceful rally?

they may not be
our enemy,
but they
certainly
aren't our friends.

they are the strong-arm
of the State,
fodder on a frontline
devised by fascist elite.
the boys in blue
with low IQs
are oligarchs' favorite tools
for bludgeoning
dissent and pummeling
free expression.
useful idiots—
truncheons designed
with punishing dissidents
in mind.

we may well be
the 99%, but they have badges,
guns, and a license to ****
emblazoned on the blue shield
slapped on their chests,
stoking overzealous
racists to respond violently,
a cacophony of bloodshed
seems to be the only language
they know how to speak.

smash the fraternity
that acquiesces to criminality.
white men in pressed suits—
who's speculative spending
lead to economic catastrophe—
get off scott-free
while black men are imprisoned
for possessing an ounce of ****.
not even the blind would fail to see
the "just us" system excludes
the majority of humanity.

all lives matter?
only ignorance could present
such a fictitious narrative,
a self-congratulatory hyperbole
disregarding contemporary reality.
private prisons designed for profit,
institutionalized bigotry instigating
a new form of slavery.
when mass incarceration
lacerates our communities
and exacerbates the conditions
of the working class,
the only dignified response
is to stand up, fight back.

we no longer
have a need
for this blatant idiocracy.
if we truly want to call this country
"the land of the free,"
then we must say,
loudly and clearly:
abolish the police.

There are times I wish you would throw out the canvas.
                                        Be as reckless as I love you to be.
Let loose the hold you have fixed on this earth and plunge
               Head-long into the ocean, daring yourself to breathe.
Brush your fingers across the coral until your voice starts to bleed,
                       Then paint the sunken whale bones with your song.
                  Drink chestfuls of love until sobriety loses meaning.
        Tell the world your secrets while it sleeps in your arms.
  Speak with the grace of battering rams and truncheons.
                                       Stretch your mind until it weeps.
                                             Collect these tears in bottles,
                                               Break them on the streets.
          I would hang your soul on my refrigerator door
                                            Any given day of the week.

Up in the Yukon
they use gold ***** for ping pong.
Heavy duty.
I wish they'd
re-route me
to there.
Down here with Babylon
truncheons and
helmets on
I wish that I was gone
elsewhere.

They stand on every street corner now
with their truncheons out
slapping them with black gloved hands
this what it means to live in Pig City

The curfew is 6 pm
and you better be in by then
they have made us downtrodden and desperate
that's when the word insurgence becomes a threat

So we train orphan's of this horrid war
to do something to even the score
we give them guns and hand granades
for we must fight in every sick and twisted way

So every day a child of war pulls a pin
and kills as many of them as they can
for we live here, this vision of hell ... Pig City
believe you me, all here is ****** and not pretty


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

The air was thick with brothers arms entwined
in a fence that stretched beyond the battery lines
of police men, in truncheons at the ready to crack
and bleed any radical  dream of freedom.

The lines advanced at each other, one
sheltered in sheet metal solid while
the other hidden behind worn woollen masks
with holes to see freedom beyond the barricades.

The firecrackers split the screams wailing
as rubber bullets tore out advancing flesh
and spilled red roses of blotches on the snow
of yesterdays mourning for the dead.

The lines at the face of the glare
and all hell stopped short of shouting
The silence crawled in between the ready
boots about to burst through the ranks.
But no one moved out of position.

You could their hearts pounding in fear
of death and freedom. The first shot
never fired was whisper over their heads
as the deep breathing misted their misery
One side commanded, the other demanded.

From high above the roof tops the cross hairs
closed on the opposite heads near the ears
which would spill  their protest forever.
But fear has a way of withdrawing into
pockets to crack open masked skulls  another day.

The voice on the walkie-talkie crackled
"Withdraw. Withdraw. Slowly. Slowly
the World is now watching". The lens have closed
and captured the commanders eyeballs
for the world press. "Withdraw slowly
we will return when we clean out the parapets
of all these ******* photographers
who don't know what real  "peace" means".

Let the tyres burn and squelch for today.
"Dinner is ready in the barracks
You are all brave men. You love your country.
Guard it with all your might. Withdraw today.
Return tomorrow. We have a job to do!"

Author Notes
The revolution continues.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

It's HARD These Days To Fight ... " The Good fight " ... !!!
When So MANY Things Are Kept From ... "Sight" ... !!!!!
    
Laws Now Applied Are Well Defined ... !!!    
If You're Not of A ... " CERTAIN Type " ...    
You're Deemed To .... " INCITE  " .... !!!    
    
If You Speak Your Mind About Social Crimes ...    
UNLESS You're of The ... Government Type ...    
    
The Spread of Lies Is Now Disguised ...    
Behind People Just Like ... " Condoleeza Rice " ...    
    
It's No Surprise ...    
She's Got Her Slice of ...    
Uncle George's... " Apple Pie " ... !!!  
    
Many Have Died ...    
Both Black and White And Asians Alike ...    
In New Orleans And ... Overseas ...    
    
Where They Claim EVERY Night ...    
To FIGHT ... " The Good Fight " ... !!!!!!    
    
This REALLY DOESN'T Seem SO GOOD To Me ... !!!!!?!!!!!!    
    
But As I'm Black Who Cares About That ... !?!?!?!    
    
Double Standards Now Are OH SO Foul ...    
Like Fighting Wars In FOREIGN Towns ...    
While People AT HOME Are Left To Drown ... !!?!!    
    
New Orleans Will Wear THAT CROWN ...    
For Many Years While The Homeless FROWN ...    
    
Now Films Are Making ... " Political Sounds " ...    
    
Just Like ...  "The Road To Guantanomo" ... !!!!!!!!!!  
    
Now That's NO JOKE But What Do You Know  ... ?    
    
The Actors From The Film Had Just Flown Home ...    
From A German Awards Show And Were Greeted By POLICE ... !?!    
At Luton Airport And QUICKLY Placed In CUSTODY ... !!!      
    
They Were Then Held For TWO HOURS .... !!!?!!!    
Their Collars' Felt And Return ... SOURED ... !!!    
    
So Listen Up Folks Here Comes The Quote ... !!!  
    
"Are you going to make more Political Films ?" ...    
    
Was A Question Asked By One Whose Task ...    
Is To Stop Terrorists Who Are ... " Muslims " ... !!!    
    
A Representative of The Group ... " Reprieve " ...    
Whose Work Includes .... " Civil Liberties " ...    
Expressed OUTRAGE And DISBELIEF ... !!!    
She CLEARLY HASN'T Dealt With Many Police ... !!!!!    
    
They Fight ... " The Good Fight " ...    
Pretty Much ... How THEY LIKE ... !!!?!!!  
    
And May Well Try To Say My Rhymes ...    
Are DANGEROUS And Could ... " INCITE " ... ?!?  
    
Well Here's The Key It's ... POETRY ... !!!!!    
About The Ways They ... LIE And CHEAT ... !!!    
    
It's Funny To Me But Now CLEARLY ...    
Whether Film or Play You've Got To Watch The Things You Say ... !!!    
      
But It's Now Okay ...    
To Make Films About ... " Gays " ...    
    
COWBOY Gays ...    
" I say I say what like John Wayne ... !!! "  
    
FUNNY That ...  
Wasn't Always That Way ... !?!    
    
Now They Fight ... " The Good Fight " ... !!!  
Will Police Frisk THEM And Ask Questions ... ?!?!?    
    
"Sir, I think not !"    
    
"No, what's the problem ?    
I'm sure they'd find a use for those BIG TRUNCHEONS !!!    
Males who are gay, could be terrorist men ?"    
    
It's Now ... CLEAR To Me ...  
We've ... NEVER BEEN FREE ... !!!    
    
But Come Now PLEASE ... !!!    
NO Freedom To Speak ... !?!    
Or Talk About The Things We See ... !?!    
    
NOT Free To Protest Whatever Next ... !?!    
    
Now They Want To Give Pills That May Just **** ... !?!    
    
Apparently ... Pills Such As These ...    
Will Help Us Live On ... " TWO Hours Sleep " ... !!!    
    
Now That's CRAZY ... !!!  
There's Said To Be A NEED In Todays' Society ... ?!?    
    
Are They NOT Happy ...    
With ******* Speed And Ecstasy ... ??!??    
    
NO Freedom To Sleep ...    
They Want Walking ZOMBIES ... !!!    
    
Work Til' You DROP What's Going On ... !!! ? !!!    
    
NO Time For Your Kids ...    
NO Time To Conceive ...    
Conception May Become ...    
An ... " E Bay Bid " ... !!!!!    
    
"Internet ***** !!!    
Next Day Delivery !!!    
***** from a Hunk !!!    
Pregnancy Guaranteed !!!"  
    
Don't Know About You ... ?    
But That's NOT FOR ME ... !!!    
    
Can This Possibly Be Our DESTINY ... !?!    
    
My Light Sabre Technique NEEDS A New Regime ... !!!!!    
Where's OB1 Kenobi ... " Beam Me Up Scotty ! " ...  
    
That's ALL A Pipe Dream ...    
But REALITY BITES ... !!!!!!    
    
And It's HARD Nowadays ...    
To FIGHT ...    
    
....  " The Good Fight " ....

If I get up the crack of dawn, it's cos my cockerel crows
Egg yoke running over me, starts sliding down my nose
When dawn breaks problems arise, my appetite just grows
My old pan is getting hot, oil's dripping on my toes

So I will toss my sausage, but that's only when dawn goes
I've always got the taste for it, that's when my sausage shows
Salty bacon tasty fat, some highs but mainly lows
Juicy fruits already squeezed, I love the way it flows

I like to smell the coffee, but I'd rather have the cream
The taste of it upon my tongue, is really quite supreme
Old sweet sugar's what I need, it makes me smile and scream
Pure delight and ecstasy, mixed in with kettle steam

I can wet the whistle, cos this will make it gleam
After I've had bacon, I'll go down on the stream
My hot sausage shriveled up, I'm in need of a redeem
Weakened prospects I don't want, splitting at the seam

My **** is a reclusive, and he's hardly fully grown
A lady hen is what I need, to get my **** well shown
She can do the laying, cos I'd like to hear her moan
Instead of omelettes sticking, and tossing on my own

Riding bikes is so much fun, my helmet is on loan
My bell ends always ringing, polished to a shinny tone
All the dogs are in the park, their ******* on my bone
Bottles my get broken, but at least the glass gets blown

Residues left over, a deposit from a heap of slags
Why don't you recycle, it's good to use old bags
Old Cronies or witch women, are they really ugly hags
Donkeys hung may just be fine, a huge *** often drags

I'm ******* on my melons, there juicy big large gags
Bunt cigarettes don't seem fair, because smokers get the shags
Do you feel a little horse, or is it a bunch of nags
Is your clothing fashionable, or are you wearing rags

I'm sorry if your homeless, you can have some of my meat
Raw and smelly it could be, but your still in for a treat
Up your alley I would go, but that's only if it's neat
It really comes to something, having a *** out on the street

You can swallow my whole whopper, but this isn't no mean feat
I'm hoping for your doughnut, cos the jams so good to eat
If you want my hot sauce, then you'll have to feel the heat
But we don't want coppers truncheons, swinging on our beat

Sparkling sensations are achieved, it's your warm champagne I'll sup
If I'm caught enjoying it, then we can definitely Hookup
Releasing your bazookas, when your drinking from my cup
I would lick your cherries, just like a little pup
You can **** my lollipop, a sweet tasting chupa chup
And if your wanting group activities, we can have a 7up

Marching through the streets chanting and hollering.
Waving evil flags and burning tiki torches.
Calling out for the death of many.
Not thinking about their own.
Anger, hatred, met with silence.
Stillness, steadfast.
Mace and truncheons meet faces and bodies.
Close quarter hate-to-hate combat.
Swastikas fly protected by sacred badges.
While voices of peace lay on the ground in hopes of a better tomorrow.
Peacefully we try and violently it fails.
The fight never won by one side or the other.
We can't share our living space.
We can't share our voice.
Coexist is a death sentence to those without weapons.
We sharpen our tongues and dull our blades to fight this war on our own neighbors and friends.
One day it will end.
We just don't know when.
The drums of war will quiet and give way to new peace.

☰☰☰☰☰☰✈ The U.S. govt. sacrificed 3,000 soldiers at Pearl Harbor in 1941 to the Empire of Japan; the U.S. govt. poisons and adulterates our water with the waste product sodium fluoride and the blood intoxicant known as lithium (as well as innumerable heavy metals and pesticides). The U.S. govt. clouds the skies with aluminum oxide and barium salt. I am able and willing to turn YOU over to Iraq's citizens for dispensation. ****** is ******. The murdering of children is especially abhorrent.

WEB: In the long run, routine deception by the police tears at our social fabric, and undermines the law enforcement system. The more police lie, the more skeptical juries are going to be, even when police are telling the truth.

“War is coming. 1941, they say...It's all going to happen. All the things you've got at the back of your mind, the things you're terrified of, the things that you tell yourself are just a nightmare or only happen in foreign countries. The bombs, the food-queues, the rubber truncheons, the barbed wire, the coloured shirts, the slogans, the enormous faces, the machine-guns squirting out of bedroom windows. It's all going to happen.” – George Orwell: Coming Up for Air p. 274

Dave Foreman, Earth First : “My three main goals would be to reduce human population to about 100 million worldwide, destroy the industrial infrastructure and see wilderness, with its full complement of species, returning throughout the world.”

David Brower, first Executive Director of the Sierra Club: “Childbearing [should be] a punishable crime against society, unless the parents hold a government license … All potential parents [should be] required to use contraceptive chemicals, the government issuing antidotes to citizens chosen for childbearing.”

Bill Maher: “I’m pro-choice, I’m for assisted suicide, I’m for regular suicide, I’m for whatever gets the freeway moving – that’s what I’m for. It’s too crowded, the planet is too crowded and we need to promote death.”

Democrat strategist Steven Rattner: “WE need death panels. Well, maybe not death panels, exactly, but unless we start allocating health care resources more prudently — rationing, by its proper name — the exploding cost of Medicare will swamp the federal budget.”

Barack Obama’s primary science adviser, John  Holdren: “A program of sterilizing women after their second or third child, despite the relatively greater difficulty of the operation than vasectomy, might be easier to implement than trying to sterilize men. The development of a long-term sterilizing capsule that could be implanted under the skin and removed when pregnancy is desired opens additional possibilities for coercive fertility control. The capsule could be implanted at puberty and might be removable, with official permission, for a limited number of births.”

Finnish environmentalist Pentti Linkola: “If there were a button I could press, I would sacrifice myself without hesitating if it meant millions of people would die.”

Also, by eugenist Peter Singer: “Some people carry genes that mean any children they produce will be severely mentally *******. As long as the lives of these children are pleasant, it would not, according to the replaceability argument, be wrong to perform a scientific experiment on a child that resulted in the death of the child, provided another child could be conceived to take its place.”


The border that separates Haiti & the Dominican Republic, on the 29,530 square mile Island of Hispaniola, is ruthlessly guarded.


President Richard Nixon Tape #697-29

Nixon: “A majority of people in Colorado voted for abortion, I think a majority of people in Michigan are for abortion, I think in both cases, well, certainly in Michigan they will vote for it because they think that what’s going to be aborted generally are the little black *******.”

Nixon Tape #700-10

Nixon:  “… as I told you and we talked about it earlier, that a hell of a lot of people want to control all the ***** *******.”

Now Construction Is A Word...
When Applied To... " Verse "...
That NEEDS PROPULSION...
For Your Words To Be Heard... !!!
  
To Construct Or... BUILD...
... DEMANDS REAL SKILL... !!!
  
If You're Trying To... ENLIGHT...
Through The Words You Write...
  
Which Is Why Hip Hops'...  
Standards Have... dropped... !!!
  
Cos' It's Now Gone... " POP "...
When It Used To ROCK Spots... !!!
  
... ROCK Foundations...
Constructed By Stations...
  
Whose Radio Shows REFUSED To Go... !!!
To Playlists Built With HIP HOP Flows...  
  
Well It Seems OTHER Scenes...
... STILL REFUSE To SEE... ?!?
  
That When Built WELL...
... Hip Hop Can SELL... !!!!
  
CLEVER Word Constructions...
Feeding... NUMBERS... !!!
CLEARLY Now EXCEEDING Hundreds... !!!
  
MILLIONS Now Across The Globe...
CONSTRUCT SLICK Flows...
To EARN Them DOUGH... !!!!!
  
But As I Said.....
Some Heads Constructions Are WORTHLESS... !!!
And Send CONVULSIONS Through Poems...
That Make NO SENSE Or INSIGHT VIOLENCE... !?!
  
WHY Construct Things That Lead To DEATH... ?!?
This CONTRADICTS CONSTRUCTIVE Trends... !?!
  
Construction IS The SAME AS CREATION...
So WHY Enlist What FEEDS DESECRATION... !?!?!
  
Construction Through The Words We Use...
Can HELP YOU FUEL What's GOOD In You... !!!
  
DON'T Get Me Wrong Sometimes SAD Songs...
Can HELP Someone Learn To... Move ON...
  
But MURDEROUS Words Can Motivate Herds...
To Try To HURT Or Do... MUCH WORSE... !!!
  
If You Just Create...
To Make Some CHANGE... $$$$...
  
Through ANY OLD Phrase Or VIOLENT CLAIM...
What You CONSTRUCT May SEAL Your Fate... !?!?!
  
And May Result In FUELLING... HATE... !!!
  
That's Why I Choose CONSTRUCTIVE Tools...
To HELP REDUCE My... ANGRY MOODS... !!!
  
Of COURSE I've Written ANGRY WORDS... !!!!!
  
But What You QUOTE...
And Choose To PROMOTE...
May One Day... BURN...
And Leave You CURSED... !!?!!
  
I'd RATHER SEE... POSITIVITY...
In Poetry That Comes From ME... !!!
EVEN WHEN... I Face PROBLEMS... !!!
  
CONSTRUCTION Lends Itself To BLENDS...
That CREATE MORE And DESTROY LESS... !!!!!
  
Which I Am FOR And NOT Against... !!!!!!!!!!!!
  
SO MANY SELECT DESTRUCTIVE Styles...
To Get A CHEQUE FAKE Hugs And SMILES...
  
That POSITIVE Rhymes Are Now RESIGNED...
To Being KEPT............. From Minds...
ESPECIALLY When The TRUTH's Outlined... ?!?
  
I Guess That's WHY We Now... " Accept "...
CONSTRUCTED LIES From Governments...
And................................ ........ OSTRACIZE.....
  
Those Who EXPRESS...
Their Arguments Through Common Sense... !!!
  
My Intellect YES... IS Down With Them... !!!
So Construct Words In Their DEFENCE...
  
While Most PREFER To FOLLOW The Herds...
of Writers Whose Constructions... PROVE...
That What They Do AIN'T Good For You... !!!
  
Each To Their OWN Of Course OF COURSE... !!!
But Watch Them CLOSE And DON'T Get CAUGHT... !!!
  
In Zones Where Souls Are Sold Then BOUGHT... !!!
  
Constructions Built Should HOLD The Fort...
NOT WILT Like Stilts On BURNING Floors... !!!!!
  
WEAK Constructions WILL MALFUNCTION... !!!
Like Those With Men WIELDING TRUNCHEONS... !!!!
  
I Like Things BUILT And Constructed WELL...
Like Women With... Bodies That SELL... !!!!!
  
And A MIND With Which We Could ENRICH...
Our Lives With LOVE We Could CONSTRUCT... !!!!!
  
A CONSTRUCTION Like THAT Would Be SO NICE...
I'd Be Her Man For The Rest of Our Lives... !!!!!!
  
MAYBE Construct A... " Family "... ???
  
"Hold on there V, You're in a dream !
You know that's not reality, and probably, is unlikely !"
  
What I Construct May One Day See...
A Woman Who LOVES My Poetry...
Become THE ONE Who FILLS My Dreams... !!!!!
  
UNTIL That Time I'll Write My Rhymes...
Because This IS My... COMPULSION...
To Touch EVERYONE Who READS My Stuff...
  
Through Simple Use of...
  
... " CONSTRUCTION "...

You can feel the hatred in the street
so many shades off tapping feet
anger boils over feel the heat
sorting the chaff from the wheat

Don’t stare at the faces just a glance
or you’ll be dangling on an executioners lance
a Harikrishna dances his last dance
singing let’s give love one more chance

Authority surveys this squalled place
draws truncheons tasers and mace
life is trampled in the race
as tears run down a child’s face

Not a human creature stirred, nor seen
throughout Highland Manor,
property carpeted in lush green
gently hilly terrain,
(a deathlike stillness descended un keen
quiet and quite cool April 26th,
deux thousand twenty one).

Vicious rumors circulate wrenching
hammering, and drilling psyche
where mailer demons invade,
that immediate hell fire enfilade
natural hair color made
gray follicular shocks amply pervade
instantaneously turning
Janus faced with Machiavellian

mean streak inlaid
(how word some would say)
"stern", any previous
housewarming aura
experiencing welcome spiel,
nor iota of politesse present,
but Trumpeting her entourage,
asper self important capering escapade

taskmaster known to abrade
even the most stalwart macho,
gung-**, brave appear afraid,
thus oft time tis most
advantageous and optimal
prospective mutineers betrayed
Princess Jan Ger
harridan de jure ushering tirade

akin to a petit grand mal one
woman banshee masquerade
hoop puts on be preyed
upon switching pretentious airs
dead ringer give
away (immediately
points gnarled finger
sentenced to clinker visage),

non verbal charade
hence unstoppable mounting
anticipatory anxiety manifests
as disabling, impending,
oppressing fate
cannot be delayed
if insubordinate tenants
try with futility to evade

officials with truncheons flayed
doth rarely give surcease
renters passing grade
she, the consummate
de facto grande heiress
of Gr*e & Que
inherited plum deal,
where lifetime employment,

and generously paid
analogous as born
(that way) portrayed
maintaining poker face
into royalty made,
now as single mother
to biracial heir
purportedly inhabits castle

abode with parents,
thus no child
care costs paid
expectant heavy foot
falls getting louder,
(oh...no that jist
my heart pounding
whence approaching raid

so please inform this jade
did troubadour if privy to let
(me and the missus) aid
i.e. a safe and sound
place to call home
with this hole in the poetry wall,
I would immediately
make thee a fair trade

in lieu of living, where
mercilessness doth parade
expenses property upkeep,
teaching (two
door ring) English,
or even employed
as a mister minute maid.

All imperialist gringos must go to Peru, eat lima beans & rob banks
& corner the prison market on made-from-spoon-razor-sharp shanks
& splintery truncheons carved from bleached, weather-worn planks

So... Justice Is Served... ?!?
  
And Has Now Been Confirmed...
By Those Who’ve Convicted...
This Cop Who Inflicted...
A HORRIFIC KILLING...
To George Floyd His VICTIM... !!!
  
But Ma'Khia Bryant...
Was ALREADY DYING...
BEFORE Derek Chauvin...
Had People EXPLODING...
  
With Cries of...
... FINALLY... !!!
  
A Cop WON’T Go Free...
Because He’s GUILTY...
of A MURDEROUS Deed... !!!
  
But JUSTICE To Me...
Is NOT What I See... !!!
  
When I See Chauvin Feel...
The Force of A Knee...
On His Neck In A Street...
Til He’s Copping A Plea...
  
To STOP And DECEASE...
Because He CANNOT BREATHE...
And Then DIES Like A Piece...
of An UNWANTED BREED... !!!
  
Maybe Then You’ll Hear Me...
Say That Justice Is Served... ?!?
  
Cos’ Too Many Seem Pleased...
By These Judicial Scenes...
  
When George Floyd Is DEAD.
And Will NOT Breathe Again... !!!
  
I Mean NO DISRESPECT... !!!
But Let’s Get This CORRECT... !!!
  
How QUICK Some FORGET...
How This Man Met His DEATH... !!!
  
While Chauvin Has Yet...
To Receive A Sentence...
That Equates To His END... !!!
  
Should He Not Now Receive...
The... DEATH PENALTY... ?!?
  
Would That Be JUSTIFIED...
In The Presidents Eyes... ?!?!?
  
Or Are His PLATITUDES...
Just To Keep People COOL...
Who Should Not Now Be Fooled  
Because... New Camera Tools...
  
Left NO ROOM To EXCUSE...
Derek Chauvin’s ABUSE...
of The PRIMARY Rule...
of What Police SHOULD DO...
When They’re Doing Their Work...
  
To Yes... PROTECT AND SERVE...
And NOT Leave People HURT...
Or In This Case MUCH WORSE...
  
Being Given A Turn...
To Be Treated Like DIRT... !!!
  
And Like Ashes That Burn...
Be Then Placed In An Urn... !!!
  
Because He Is Just ONE...
Who Is Part of This Club...
  
Who Was Finally Caught...
Just ABUSING The Law... !!!
  
So His Actions DESERVE...
To Have Him Let Some Worms...
Return Him To The Earth... !!!
  
Instead of Live Life...
In A Prison Confined... !!!
  
Isn’t It JUSTIFIED...
For Him To Now DIE... !!!
  
Because of That Line...
  
An Eye For An Eye...
Or A... Life For A LIFE... !!!
  
Due To His HEINOUS Crime...
That Caused People Worldwide...
To... NO LONGER DENY...
  
That Justice Is RARELY...
What Black People Get... !!!
  
In Fact Most Blacks Are BARELY...
Able To CATCH BREATHS... !!!
  
But The System Does Work...  
Is What’s Now Being Said...
  
Well Such Words May Calm Nerves...  
And Appease CERTAIN Herds...
And These SYSTEMIC Heads...  
But To Me AREN’T CORRECT... !!!
  
People Need To Be WISE...
And NOT Let Others DIE...
When Policeman Arrive...
With Guns Cocked By Their Side...
  
Or Let Them Use Their Knees...
And Choke Holds To Impede...
Peoples’ Need To Just Breathe... !!!
  
So The... Judiciary...
Has For ONCE Now Been Seen...
To Have Yes Passed A Judgment...
That’s Shown That It's Function...
Isn't Ruled By Corruption... ?!?
  
When Some Cop Has Punctured...
A Black Life Like Someone...
Whose Feeding On Luncheon...  
  
But HOW MANY OTHERS...
Have Been Made To SUFFER...  
By Cops Making Blunders...  
With More Than Their Truncheons... ?!?
  
... TOO MANY To Number... !!!
  
So These Words Are Written...
To Just Say DON’T Be Thinking...
That THIS Court Decision...
  
Means That Black Folks Are Winning...
And Won’t Now... Still See Prisons...
Due To WRONGFUL Convictions...
  
Given... By A System...
That’s Lived Off Racism... !!!
  
When Policemen Be Killing...
But Then Claim To Be VICTIMS...
of... BIASED Decisions... ?!?
  
I Get That This Judgement...
Tastes Good Like A Muffin...
  
But George Floyd’s SIX FEET UNDER... !!!
  
While Chauvin Will LIVE...
And Still Have Discussions... !!!
  
So Folks DON’T Confuse This...
... As A TRUE Form of.....
  
...... “ Justice “......