SOS: Sacrifice Our Souls…an ode to violence, america’s pastime

SOS

Sacrifice Our Souls… an ode to violence, america’s pastime 

beerGuy

guilty-bloody-hands

Fallen Disney princesses

Are no longer needed

To hide the military

And the mercenaries

As they continue to spread

World War Three

To more and more countries

Filled with dehumanized masses

Our Brown and black

Sisters and brothers

Praying to the wrong version

Of a monotheistic god

This sibling rivalry

has gotten out of hand

Ishmael was the first born

But his Poppa had to raise Cain

Because the maid was undocumented

And finally Mama made Isaac

And ashes to ashes

And dust to dust

And Abraham was the father

Of genital mutilation

And Isis is an African Goddess

And the CIA stole her name

And carved it

Into a rock (Iraq)

With a butchers knife

Yet again defiling black women

And that Sarah was a spiteful wife

Old Abe should have

Stayed with the maid

But he was willing

To sacrifice a Lot…

Though, was it ‘god’ telling him

To behead his son

Or just the twisted voice

Inside his head?

But so it is written,

And it’s all the same

Year after year

War after war

And we cheer as Adrian Peterson scores

As some scream and yell

At Roger Goodell

But Ray Rice’s wife should have known better,

Some say,

She should have expected

all the roid rage… SHE’S to blame!

And just like Mike Brown and Trayvon,

We’re great at blaming victims

Or bombing them,

As long as they’re Brown

or Black

Or as long as they were

Born in Iraq

Or somewhere like it,

We don’t give a shit

If they’re gunned down

By cops

Or drones

Or poor farm and city kids

With dreams of VA loans…

And these bread and circuses

Have been genetically modified

They’re in our blood now

And it boils

When the newsman talks

Of war on our streets

Between “thugs” and police

And the cops can kill

Any black or brown kid they want,

Label him a criminal

And all is forgotten

The blood on the government’s hands

Washes away

Come game day

And OF COURSE

we want Adrian Peterson

and Big Ben

and Ray Rice to play

For the love of the game

For the love of the

Cowboys and Redskins

Skinny dipping

GMO chips into settlement hummus

Is the ballgame on?

Yes, but the president

is giving a speech

about another war in the Middle East…

but that makes me feel bad

plus, fuck Baghdad

better them than us, right?

And we’re right where they want us

Glued to the TV

Watching the disciples

of Edward Bernays preach,

and locked in our rooms

watching porn on the computer screen

Instead of watching

the universe in our lovers eyes

too stressed out from

nine to five

thankless jobs we hate

family and friends we tolerate

significant others we take for granted

and long walks on the beach are too romantic

but…

fuck it,

grab a bucket

hit the beach and pick up trash

but stay out of the water

in some places

or you’ll probably get a rash

but they have pills for that

and if you’re too fat to get it up

there’s pills for that

and if you’re too depressed to get out of bed

there’s pills for that

and if you think that you’d be better off dead

there’s pills for that

but beware of all the suicide-side effects

after all, they could give a fuck about us

they have a bottom line

and if you and I die

by our own hand

it’s one less soldier in the fight

one less person

pointing out the mess

that America has become

one less person not afraid

of Johnny and his gun…

no, I won’t give up

and I won’t run

I’ll keep trucking along

Singing these songs

Stuck inside my head

These songs

of freedom and peace…

and fuck the police,

but I love the human beings

behind the badge and the gun

they’re all someone’s daughter or son

they’re our brothers and sisters

and I feel sorry for them

that they don’t see

that I am you

and you are me

and we’re all one

like Preacher Casey says

in Grapes of Wrath

and two paths diverged

but billions of souls all merged

at the beginning of time…

and I don’t wear a watch

and I don’t have an i-phone,

and all time is all time

and truth and justice

are universal

and this isn’t a fucking rehearsal

this is it…

and all the politicians

and all the taxpayers

and all the casualties of war

wake up in the morning

and take a shit,

but only some

wipe their asses

with blood drenched hands…

and is this language too filthy?

And are these words

Too difficult to comprehend?

Oh, I think I got it…

is the ballgame on again…?

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