~ And when you dream,
you’re by yourself
Don’t know the streets
where you find yourself
Go back to sleep,
don’t mind yourself
Both hands on your head. ~
Money’s talking
While hunger prays
Buncha Nazi-loving child-fuckers run the state
911 is on some 1-800-CIA
Plastic pundits pump your trusts
and fund your shallow graves
It’s malice just for malice sakes
Congress houses wealthy corpses,
breathing hexes, arming forces,
spilling out a million greedy snakes
from all their orifices,
coursing down the Congress floor,
across the aisle,
out the door,
to curse a million more
before they’ve run their bloody courses
Clip your wings like Klippenstein
Then out and burn your sources
collapse, at times,
is hard to witness,
other times, it’s gorgeous
There’s something satisfying
in the act of watching something greedy
choke upon the very thing
on which it gorges
And there’s something humbling blooming
in the thought that, once the dust has settled, mine could be the hand that clears the moss, and lights the torches
Mine could be the voice
that wakes the very fucking orchids
Mine could be the words
that stir the armies in the orchards
The lowliest of roots, I’d be the one to call them forward
let the very earth be witness first
to see the fascists flail and flounder once they learn they’re truly cornered
Once they learn the class war has boiled down to looters versus hoarders
Let the earth absorb their meager worth once they’ve been quartered
Laugh, and say “I only followed orders”
Kind of like the guy who flew the drone
that leveled Doctors Without Borders
When Classic Clinton morals launched a couple wars and, off the books, a dozen more,
so Congress opened up the store
and moved a quarter-million mortars
And bombed allegiance out of those who wouldn’t kneel before us
And now the stage is set,
and we’re the starving chorus
who hunger not, for justice,
but the leaders that ignored us.
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