Monday, 9 December 2013


you know, this feeling is death
like an assassinated presidents
brains sitting in the lap of his wife
still warm, exciting, like
where you been

you know, this well-being feeling is illusion
like a country worm eaten
with prisons and mass caskets waiting
cities stricken, S.W.A.T. cordoned
crack quieted, as the countryside sits awake
months, spun, pigs and horses

you know, the feeling i felt in that cell
that never could anything ever work out
that some basic thing inside was broke
that THE MAN was out to get
and i would die all alone hepatitis sick

pulled back from this by a bracelet
of rosemary in the mid-east
walking back and forth on pristine cement
to crunching home in 15 below
you know a part of you, but which?
survived it

so today im to the library, to the mountain
this body that has held his nephew
and a womans body smelling of expensive perfume
this body that performs same exercise
same sets, same sweat

you know, ive stumbled politically because
so much here vying for attentions
ill admit to entertaining the consumerist
sex sparkled, side tracks
but i was given life because of politics

a revolutionary death, buried in red flag, hated
by the labor aristocrat amerikkan
spit upon by the four hundred pound
embraced by the ninety
this ones for the 500 million starved annually
first world casualties

facebook stupid, pornography jaded
bullshit propaganda couched in sarcasm
motherfuck your cliches and moral high-grounds
your repetitive rich puppet elections
from deify to hated
again and again...

bourgeois weaken as my nephews
die a martyr or lie bloody
felled by your own people for imperialist corporations
bloody puppet brains useless
like your nation of white supremacist
labor aristocrats on vicoden
anti-psychotics and anti-depressants