A Late Summer Night’s Dream…

carrying 100 pound coffee bags

wearing rags

running ragged

jagged knifes edge

of reality

when I staggered

flipped on the radio

it was Haggard

but my girl

hates Merle

she’s a San Francisco hippie

pot smoking on Main Street

slinging LSD

I tripped

wire tapped


around her finger

what was that song about



I hate



saturated with corn syrup

what’s the point?

Well, my bro

used to drink it by the gallon

just to piss clean

now he’s got a house

and a gal

and a dog

and a horse

and I hope to fuck

he never winds up

in divorce court


it’s the American dream alright

but it’s one less soldier

as we rage against the machine

and fight

for our right

to stay alive

our right to say

‘fuck 9 to 5’

I’m always sober when I drive

don’t want to get shoved

inside their cage

so instead when I’m drunk

I keep filling page

after page

with rage induced scribbles

trying in vain to expose

all the lies

that drive me out

of my goddamn mind

now it’s time to rise



and away from the ashes to


and dust to


in our lungs

will you be

my burn-pit Phoenix,

don’t leave me burning

like the synagogues long forgotten

rise up

fly for me

rise up


like the son

of god

is on our side,


and run

because Johnny’s got his gun

and he ain’t playing nice

he has a bald head full of

license to kill

for what he’s told

to believe

but our boy Johnny’s been deceived

to think that he’s



like Christopher Reeve

riding horses

puffing Marb red’s


it’s all gone to his head…


to kill

for the thrill,

for the fuck of it


we believe

that Johnny means well


is here

but this is paradise too…

and we’re gunna let Johnny

with his gun

force us to run

and hide?

fuck up all our fun?


fuck it…

let’s stay here and LIVE

so long as we’re alive that is

and love

even Johnny

as much as we love god above

because Johnny is…

and we are


goddesses and gods 

stuck inside bones and skin

hijacked into

a color-coded humanity

divide and conquer

ethnically cleanse,


and repeat

generation after generation

and divide further still

casting lots

for blood and sweat-drenched clothes  

made by shackled goddesses and gods

and stitched onto the backs

of mental slaves

a million miles away 

though the separation is an illusion

like time

but a diamond IS forever

a blemish on our collective soul

like when we sold goddesses and gods

to other goddesses and gods

years ago

and built an empire

that shackles them still

forcing Isis

to worship a golden calf

and hipsters to spread

settlement hummus

on non-GMO, gluten free

organic bread

but it’s all bullshit,

and it’s still insane

to give up

much less give in,

so I’ll fill that cup one last time

with real cranberry juice

and gin

to cleanse me

of my sin,


forgetting brothers

and sisters

from other mothers

and misters

as they lay


and cry

and die in faraway lands

and just across town

caused by the hours of our lives

taxed away

and transformed into hatred 

and death

and decay

rotting the core

of humanity

as Sean Hannity

and Anderson Cooper 

make millions

and sleep comfortably

atop the dead bodies

of the oppressed    

About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
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