Belly Dancing on the Dashboard

My Ode to Palestine and Hawaii


Belly Dancing on the Dashboard.

Posted in Uncategorized

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


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



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


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


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…?

Posted in bible, bigotry, child abuse, death, domestic violence, Edward Bernays, fear, Football, guilt, hatred, ignorance, media, murder, NFL, Poetry, police, propaganda, racism, religion, sexism, sports, violence, war | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Never Forget (or, We Eat Genetically Modified Bread at the Circus)


and then Tyke the elephant broke free

crushing her trainer to death

and mauling her groomer

as she made her great escape.

She never forgot

all those years of abuse

being paraded around

thousands of miles

away from her friends and family.

But while she was running

through the streets of Honolulu

the police riddled her body

with nearly 100 bullets

and she lay,

hunched over in the street bleeding,

until she finally died from her wounds

and her days of pain and suffering

were finally over.

The circus she escaped from

has been forgotten

but new circuses

have taken its place,

where new elephants

are put on parade

thousands of miles from home

for the enjoyment of the whole family

with food and beverages available for purchase

for a nominal fee.

The End.


And remember kids,

“There will be no safe haven

For those that kill Americans”

says the president,

And he means it,

If it plays into Uncle Sam’s bloody hands,

That is.

But if you’re a black kid

With your hands up

Uncle Sam don’t give a damn

He won’t cross

The thin blue line,

And if you’re a journalist

He won’t let your family pay ransom

Because Uncle Sam

Needs your beheading,

Needs your death to become

‘A new Pearl Harbor’

Needs to go against

Everything you stood for in life

Though you knew

That violence begets violence

And killing more Muslims

Won’t lead to peace

In the Middle East,

Your death will let Uncle Sam

Keep on playing World Police

And so it is written

And so it goes

And just so all the world knows,

We have better things to do

Than give a fuck about you

Whether you were born in Iraq,

Or born in the states

And happen to be black…

We can’t care…

Because the ballgame is on

And we love watching human beings

Juiced up beyond belief

Get brain injuries

And destroy their knees,

We like our bread and circus

With a side of scandal,

We’re all trapped in Oz

And can’t find the handle…

We’re force-fed GMO corn

We’re hooked on violent porn

We dedicate our lives to corporations

And argue with our partners

Our whole two week vacation

We work and pay taxes and neglect our kids

And curse out the folks living off the grid

‘It’s just plain stupid

And irresponsible.

They think they’re

Better than us with their solar power

and that hippie ass organic food’

we pray to Jesus

but cast stone after stone

and when we’re old,

our kids will remember the neglect

and leave us all alone

in nursing homes

to cry about our wasted lives

and to hang our heads

as the American government

starts another war

with money stolen

from our grandchildren

and they will be

too busy to care

just like we were

because the beer is ice cold.

and the circus is back in town.

*Tyke (1974 – August 20, 1994) was an African elephant who performed with Circus International of Honolulu, Hawaii. On August 20, 1994, during a performance at the Neal Blaisdell Center she killed her trainer and mauled her groomer, causing severe injuries. After a half-hour of chasing down the animal, local law enforcement fired 86 shots at the 8,000 pound animal. Tyke finally collapsed from the wounds and died.

Posted in american dream, animal abuse, beer, circus, collateral damage, death, ignorance, Poetry, police, racism, Tyke the Elephant, war | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Twerk (Dedicated to Chelsea Manning and the people of Syria)




written August 27, 2013

Cyclops babies gestated in depleted uranium wombs
cry for the men in our kingdom with two blind eyes
glued to scripted reality
where newsmen get achy breaky hard-ons
for a hillbilly’s daughter in modern day blackface
while viewers drool and drink genetically modified beer
after working nine-to-five
and I’m here popping anti-depressants
for the suicide side effects
ready to bow out
after one too many esoteric nightmares
of collateral murder,
just following orders
ten years gone now
let’s drain another Ba’ath
and party in the streets,
feel the heat,
get high on Muslim blood
and nod as the newsman tells us what to think,
drink GMO beer, drink!
Buy a new made-in-China flag
And cheer as the bombs begin to fall again
And democracy reigns down
Leaving splintered hospital cribs
Filled with more birth-defected babies
Next to women missing limbs
And I turn off…

View original post 49 more words

Posted in Uncategorized

Rockwellian Saturday Evenings

Rockwellian Saturday Evenings.


America needs war like a heroin addict needs heroin…

Posted in Uncategorized

As I lay here awake

wrote this in Iraq after a really late night


November 19, 2007


Thinking of you as I lay here awake

Drifting to sleep and then out to the lake

Catching some fish and drinking some beer

Dave Matthews on the radio

It’s what I need to hear

The catfish are biting

The dog ran away

Since I fell asleep

I’ll see you right away

I’m dreaming of you

As the hours pass by

Please remember me, my dear

If it’s my day to die

I’ve had a good run

But the race is far from done

Though if I breathe my last breath here today

At least I’ve had some fun

Some good times and some bad

Mostly good times

That I’ve had

I wouldn’t trade them for gold

Or for even growing old

So I lay here asleep

As my soul the good lord keeps

If I shall rise up with the sun

Lace my boots and load…

View original post 72 more words

Posted in Uncategorized

Babylon the Great

wrote this Memorial Day a few years ago after waking up at about 3am and not being able to fall back to sleep. There is a lot of imagery and obscure references to random literature and biblical stuff, but I promise you… it all makes sense to me. kind of. These are some of my thoughts on war.
So it goes…

So it goes…



Written Memorial Day 2012

Wonderland smoke dims suicide fireflies under a Cheshire moon

mocking guerrilla teenagers

and confused tongues cry over dirty water dialogue

as crude hands sift gold from Babel sand

cutting orphan blood lines like teenage wrists

with eyes gouged from prophets

leaving a culture blind,

burning like Bronx tenements

in Sultanates looted for stale flat-bread

while fallen minarets replace dynasties of honey and milk

with multinational cholera and patent medicine,

clipping wings of human headed lions

holding receipts for chemicals and 80’s handshakes,

forgotten like the sixth commandment,

stockpiling sanctions followed by liberation

and a flying carpet exodus of Dresden dolls

to genie wishes and refugee camps

But God is on our side

and damage collateral,

Engagement rules in pencil

excuse slaughterhouse diplomacy

as a mail call respite

brings February-stale Christmas cookies,

erasing date palms along riverbanks,

playing chicken and zigzagging pale horses

and donkey carts


View original post 1,115 more words

Posted in Uncategorized