* for Terry *
(that dearly loved shadow gracing my bonfire)
*
while on its surface
this stumbled on meme
would seem to suggest
YOU and i play on a team,
such a steeled and reeling,
spiel congealing scheme
could
hardly be said
to
play for "our side".
in fact,
we don't even have one.
(a side, that is.
marginally discernible,
remotely in view,
with a roster of champions
to root for or vote for
in the toxic boxed pox,
gluing
the mainlined locus
focusing
all the hocus,
anyway.)
but nonetheless,
it's patently true
that the modern day
cathedralled Holy See
of multinational
corporations
exercise
the
power run rings
rounding the governments
they
buy and sell.
while those wholly zoned
stately dioramas
besieging the
commonwealth's
stripped and tipping ramparts
do appear to be
nominally in charge,
their castling moves
hemmed in
by the corporate
financed prance
of
corralled and tasseled,
hauled, stalled,
or
stonewalled,
robbing Pyotr, thralling Saul,
appalling beck and call.
also
like the king,
it can verily be said,
if their
fracturing
and
sanctioning,
war song hymnalled,
trickled down worth turfing,
malignantly entumouring,
humanity fractioning,
entirely rumoured existence
were abruptly
to come
to
an
end,
the game being played
would surely be up.
*
this brings us,
(like a scuffling sack
of insecured,
semi-conscious lemmings)
to
the identity slobbering,
civility clobbering,
conquistador throbbing,
marketing marquee,
"Commander and Chief of the Armed Forces"
(which dewy-eyed
and militarized
Americanized "folks" still call,
in that nostalgic,
pecking order checking,
three "independent" branches
tongue and cheek
sort of way,
"our president")
who,
despite his god given,
Obama confirmed "right"
to rain
exception's prerogative
arsenal of misery
and collateral plagues
on whomsoever he chooses
(without the tedious
rigmarole of a trial)
is hobbled and hounded
(and presently, astounded)
by the unelected,
rotely uninspected,
(grandiosely refracted
yet
assiduously unreflected),
globalized empirical hierarchy
of
serial unconscionable wealth;
that vetted setting
for colonial re-abetting
of the pure race netting,
pinnacled tentacles
of the Council
on Foreign Relations;
that deeply pocketed,
boarded and shaded
parasitical "State"
hopelessly devoted
to
"full spectrum dominance"
(a consistently insistent,
psychotically monstrous,
elephant headed,
ass embedded
lockstep unani-animosity
called
"foreign policy"
in its "protection" racket socket
at We the disassociated People
hurtling toward the precipice's
scantily reported extorted expense);
the blighted spirit Knights Templar,
Great White Hope exemplar;
those aluminum sided
might made us right,
mine's bigger than yours,
action figure Jesus
(with winking blue styed eyes),
righteous "good guys"
with their made in America
freedom guns
blazing
in
global warming's
spawned and pawned
bedazzling
suicidal sunset;
that trash amassing Euro,
hoarding pirates' bureau
lining misappropriation's
fortuitous disproportioning,
roofing and warping,
liability limiting
consortium of moneyed "interests"
which wields all
the pieces on the board,
deploys the same
militarized obliteration
of
criminalized protest
wherever their money travels,
tells the frazzled masses
what, when, and how
to think and talk about
(through those smart dictaphone,
stolen public airwaves,
Barbie and the boy toys'
vials of denial,
furnishings of burnished ploys,
auto redacting pacts,
trappings of sapping apps,
guilded guilt projection screens,
perennial repeating generals,
and rave paving,
evidence innocent headlines),
foots the bill
for both embezzling rings
in the dodo's quadrennial
caucus race
and abdicated fourth estate's
profit splurging,
reeking and leaking,
spurious jerk us circus,
supplies the legioned,
starless midnight ranks
from the unliving undead's
revolving door
of corporate zombie operatives
(to pen the leeches' speeches,
indict inequality hitching,
impending upendings of legislation,
and hatch democracy ditching,
electorate disinfecting,
tailored for seven at one blow
"free trade" agreements),
curtails incoming presidents'
non empirical or elsewise
honestly tinted inclinations,
plans the wars,
murders,
"regime changes",
or
hurls from the limelight
anyone that gets in their way,
and currently,
through the CIA
and those hack-n-stacking
"Democrat" PACs,
pulls the strings of "resistance",
handily keeping
the strutting attention deficiting,
blurting, subverting,
obstructing the perspective
of prospective deconstructing,
skirting and skating,
ratings plating,
'there ought to be clowns'
syndrome himself
reined in just enough
(when it matters to them)
to act "presidential",
which,
besides drooling the sighs
of stability's enfabling
stock stabling spokesmodels
(and Rachel bleeding Maddow),
shattering betrayals
of other peoples' skies
in technicolour dreamcoats
of gratuitous death,
is defined as
ignoring international law
whenever our betters'
cash registers ring
(in other words,
all the scammed
and damning,
rampant ramming,
bumptious,
presumptuous time),
like all right thinking
rogue "intervention" cheering,
vengeful god fearing,
'make my day' Americans
have always
been taught to do
(since the cowardly assassinations
of Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse
topped off the bomb bursting fare
at the centenary celebrations.)
for though he irks the masters
by shunning the gloves
of his better spoken
precedent setting predecessors,
he more or less
consistently haunts
the well trodden
sodden trail
of dutiful service
to an unforgivable,
peerless litany
of rapacious,
vindictive tyranny
relentlessly pursuing
any independent nations
still courageous enough
to raise their wearied,
traumatized heads,
like Iran or Russia or Venezuela,
or that America First
reimbursing hearse
sleepwalking nightmare
for the 'top of the world'
carpenter's set,
responsible for Obama's
unremarked Asian "pivot"
(those looming toll booths
on our inscrutable lenders'
yellowed and menacing silk road),
assuring the peerage
of golf outing and pouting
tax free investors
pining for the opium wars
with
the promising rumble
of domi-nation's ringing smack
eternally resounding
from the world's only Super powered
battering beacon and preeminent pimp
of whack a mole high tech hammers,
leader of the pack
of
globalized,
dis-industrialized,
thuggishly bullying,
genocide betiding,
austeritied
and
parodied "consensus"
(a meaningless term
if ever there was one.)
*
yet missing from this picture
(naturally enough,
in the slants of tracked lighting
from whence
these channeled and timed,
themed memes are induced)
are the alternate
planking,
staking and raking,
checkered and hectoring,
kingmaking chartered orders
of
bishops and knights,
those establishment affirming
shoed in, paired up parties
that,
in the chest pounding West's
so-called democracies,
have such crucial,
opposing hosing
predisposing
roles to play,
divvying up the consumers
formerly known as citizens,
loudly contesting
the few
(socially polarizing)
controversial issues
within the
vested interests'
allowable spectrum of dissent,
keeping the factions of pawns
manicuring those fawning
awned lawns
strung along,
believing they're
on contesting teams,
and
that their voices,
shouted into the gathering
wastes of gist
(virtually misplaced
in the hazings of mist)
play some part in all this.
*
what a comedy
this tragedy is.
and woe to those
who,
unflinching their gaze
from the
'only essential'
paragon of hypocrisy,
refuse their doled role
as
second pandered,
decorative pawn
to the left
of the righted center.
for never missing a beat,
the status latticed
ranking flanks'
self-policing,
practical priors pounce,
accomplishing
the preternaturally
astonishing
Orwellian feat
of convincing almost
half the people
every four years
that,
as peace is war
and less is more
(and the misledia's
staving chorus
has
something to do with truth)
there is no choice
in choice.
*
it remains to be seen
whether
that manifestly destined
Mad Hatter alarm clock
con man's con man
unleashed upon the world
by the capital of capital's
preexisting
whiteness inventing,
self obsession tenting,
Frankenstein "culture"
has actually upset
the final innings
of
denning and dinning,
idolized winnings'
descending
spinning
top
or is merely
a correcting nudge,
like the devil
in a Christian church,
meant to reinforce
simplistically rigged
diametrically imposed
obedience
whilst unfurling
the curtains
of treason's season
to
effectively silence
any
yet to be trampled
(demonized or unexampled),
radical yearnings
for sanity.
*
i suppose it doesn't much matter.
it's not as if those
commercialized,
youthanized,
alpha-betised;
distracted,
abstracted,
and
texted out of context;
brains braced,
plunder paced,
independence defaced,
culpability untraced;
compassion disfigured,
defenses on simmer
eternally triggered,
presumption inferred,
pretenses de rigueur,
reality entirely reconfigured;
competition fissioned,
diplomacy inquisitioned,
brotherhood
of man
disowned and partitioned;
resort to violence deified,
authority
inordinately reified;
reciprocity restrained,
gratification splained,
blood stained
and
infotained;
electifried
and
blithocided,
isolated islands
called "Americans"
are still
connected
to each other
in
a meaningful,
(threatening to the threat abettors)
way,
to be capable
of
hitching a stitching
of
bespoken yoked shoulders,
in harmony
with all those
unrecognised voices
of
their overlooked
and forsaken
sibling survivors
of the fell
aching knelled,
hole
never filling,
spirit misplaced,
unrepentant
inheritors
of colonialism's
self consuming fences
and
depleting bony grip,
to at last face down
the vanity of humanity's
incapacitating captivators
in a real live
honest to goodness go
at
making an actual difference
for the fragile
broken children
of
a hemorrhaging earth,
before they're pridefully,
resignedly,
complacently and vacantly,
patriotically herded
into that strange new,
weary of déjà vu,
searing dawn's
yawning,
pawn fed abyss.
*
- Evan Hawthorn, the 31st of January, 2019
* la primera ventana *
there went another one.
they never let up,
these
well meant takes
skimming
apparencies'
paving of mistakes.
the doubt that benefits
denial's vialed sweepstakes
of tampered,
brokered
breaks.
words to the wise
spouting
that
this or that
filler in the blank
hasn't
yet "learned the lesson"
from
the last time
this
or that
was "tried."
as if
the monuments
to rapacious self focus
who make it
to the
top
of the heap
of
vetted abettors
and
identity-slung magnets
that
represent
the psychopaths
(who pull the strings
of the sting
called "America")
devote their time
to
trying to learn
how
to
make things better
for that profitless rabble
that's
meant for their herd
or the hemmed 'them' scrabble
that's
not
even
seen.
honing such skills
couldn't help
but dry up
slicked and spurting
kickback faster
than
the coasting toasting
of
waning earthen aquifers.
so the "lessons"
go unlearned,
a hit and run
mishap
of
decency spurned.
the viral spiraled stairway
tripping its missteps
that
happen to plunder
the
commons asunder.
perpetrating attrition's
numbing repetition
of
oft vended
colour coded blunders
(that pulp of disappointment
so redundantly amiss
in
cinched and wincing
boys in blue lynchings.)
an accidental
strangulation
of
public education.
another lined up
community ignited
as a cloaked
soaked votive
to
loco-lucre motives,
just
a fracking gaffe
stoked on our behalf.
the steady lurch to the right,
five decades
and
counting,
regardless of bower empowered,
all of it
an astonishing
coincidence
of
beneficence gone astray;
the doctored to do little
pushmi-pullyu
binary beast
at the ceremonial gates
of saim-wai-same-way
bearing
the fished and dished wishes
of we the weeded people
to the
hum-drummed thrum
of
the conundrum's
puzzling heartstrings.
a fizzled out failure
to sled the spread
of
the humours of democracy
through
haphazard
angelic gropings
doping the scoping
and
raking in the stakes
planking aggression's
splendoured netting
of fêted
regretted invasions.
just a bad luck string
of
genocidal incidentals.
such as,
say,
eighty five percent
of Southeast Asia's
pack animals
slaughtered by mistake
falling by wayside's
happenstanced faux pas
that
wiped out the rice surplus
(oddly reminiscent
of the mysterious quandary
that misplaced
the American buffalo)
making emaciated,
broken-hearted farmers
into
beasts of burden
forced to duck
those fleecing
"global policing"
delousing dousings
of
napalm
(the wonder chemistry
unintentionally invented,
on
history's brightest side,
to
melt people's skin
till it's gone)
whilst bravely facing
the landmines,
strafing,
and
agent orange
in
hopes their
children
might still be around
to eat whatever
comes out of all that.
but hey,
it's our flyboys'
righteous preserve,
the profiling of courage
in curbing's reserve
(notwithstanding
the PBS blessed,
Times window dressed
festooning blithe asides
of
goodly misguiding
and
unAmerican,
under-appreciation.)
yet malformed little frames
are still being
crippled
by
the same mislaid crops
sixty
years
on
and the braying stays
and preying trunks
have consistently refused
to help clean the mess
or supply any charts.
rather a cooperative,
planned ahead oversight, that
put away for the future,
with an eye to Uncle Sam's
demented Green Giant
circle perked playdate
with
magic sprouting Death.
*
* la segunda ventana *
any eavesdropping alien
undeflected by "interest"
observing those
(attention-tugging,
bugged and plugging,
flattering,
collateralling,
elements under
indigenous feet-eating,
shim-shimmery-gimicked,
courtesy-flipping,
constitution-stripping,)
metaphysically misplacing,
cleaved to
bleeping boxes
would tell you
the highway to hell
is
paved
with
invented intentions.
(the eternal infernal
dumping ground
of
presumption's
stumped assumptions.)
and while some might say
it
amounts
to
evasion,
i put it down
to the
cultured epidemic
of
breathed in brainwashing
"only essential"
progeny are weaned on
from
besting,
vested Western
"exceptional" birth
to
empathy's
unremarked grave.
*
* la tercera ventana *
in the stolen "homeland"
it's
rumoured
the
plague began
somewhere
between
the
discovery
(on Thanksgiving's fabled table)
of
other peoples'
resources
and
the ingenious
invention
of
whiteness.
that is,
the appetite
for yet to be
rebranded patches
of
batchable,
dispatchable dirt
and
the conceit
of scaled palings,
hoisting
the crosses
of
dehumanization's
fell ascension
in
its ladled
cradle
of
conscience widowed,
alpha prowed,
virgin ploughing
myth.
*
* la cuarta ventana *
the bluff buffers
of rusted party planks
(entrusted
with encrusting
establishment flanks)
are not stupid.
and though insanity
has been observed,
doing the same thing
over and over,
expecting different outcomes
that's only the prognosis
the media scabs,
infecting its blankets
for the public consumption.
these mainlining
mainstreamed
functionaries
are functioning.
they can grease their palms
without tipping off a sweat.
they've mastered the art
of getting ahead
and
head to the head of the class,
acing the system
of
dangled worth
that
adeptly finagles a pass
from
all the usual
un-suspects
and the quoromed forums
of status bent vents;
snaking banked editors
of
ranking "news" vapours,
the war crime profiteers'
industrious, unrepentant
chanticleers of record,
and
the anchors of dictation
at
variously hued
anesthetizing networks;
reign of ingrained disdain,
home range deranging,
'splosives dosing,
hormone flexing,
sheen splaining screenwriters
with
pentagon sponsors
rolling their pentagram hexes;
graft rafted vanities
of distortion's escorting
on
embossed glossed menus
sporting purporting
"representative"
indenturing precedents;
stylish compilers
of proportionless fortune
employing victorious
professional deceivers
on
autumnally reinstated retainers
to
arrange
these
precise
outcomes;
legions of zombie operatives
from privatizing vectors
writing legislation
that
Democrats and Republicans
pass off
into the dearth
of
big brother's otherhood
that masquerades as law.
fully briefed and vetted,
their careers quite indebted;
revolving through
posh backscratching doors,
concealing our ceilings
under their floors;
all the slated platings
calculated
or
skated,
syncopated
or
understated,
baited
and
anticipated,
knowing full well
the
hell
to
expect.
and despite the didactics,
the give and take antics,
there looms in their attics
no changings of tactics.
the ante's upped
and
the nightmare nuzzled
with
every bundled circus
and
each descending rung.
*
* la quinta ventana *
for those who were paying attention
(before the distraction
pranced afore the curtains,
to the six consistent
right reeling decades
prior to
Rumpelstiltskin's
arisen resistance)
the time
has
long since passed
when one
really
ought to consider
that the agents
of
our destruction
have different goals
seasoning reasoning
and
vining designs
than
those that stem
from
clung-to hopes
that trine
from
thine or mine.
hence
the speeches and kvetches
that
plumb blemished niches
or
beseech sketchy crèches
pointing out
the fumbled foibles
and
volleyed follies
of
leveraged, edging ventures
are
themselves
pointless endeavours.
for only tuned in choirs
can read what's in that music.
and trapped
by their
own
traipsing bacon
in
the snarled shoestrings
of
a ratings sating Frankenstein
the Republican
irresponsive readers
and
grueling schools
of fooling, pooling ghouls
don't want for coaching.
they're not in the least confused.
(their minding's
too steepled for that.)
just selfish and cruel.
for they've never divined compassion.
like fundamental Christians
who are
fundamentally not.
(plastic Jesus steers
the careening preen
of auto pilot sin.
the saved don't rummage
their souls for a spare
since cruise controls their spin.)
they haven't yet grasped
the span of the bridge
where
yawning adolescence
collapses
its
clasp
revealing
the
wondrous salvation
that
other egos exist.
like an infant
whose blurry world unfurls
on feeding times
and stumbling parents
their vision's a one way mirror
that reflects
only them.
like the hankering angst
buoying of bluster
for a beta stacked waxing
of ganged up esteem
in that flux of adulation
for the pretensed isolation
of cause from effect,
nailing "alpha" "merit"
on the feminine meat
dragged back to a cave
of furnished mystique,
thinking
the cookie cutter
fear failed to bounce back from
springs all there is
to life.
*
* la sexta ventana *
the Democrats'
inflated and crated,
fate faithed followers
elude their
better selves
as
blindered,
righteous hollowers
are tended
to do.
from berth
immersed
in
mythic worth,
exclusively styed,
progressively dyed,
disconnectively,
competitively pried;
identified and
stratified,
and
seamed into teams;
confectioned with injections
of reverse-inversed projection,
fed on the glow of that
stalking picture show,
distracting welling limelight
from its absent introspection;
imbibing the subscribing
pursuant blow by blow
of the firmament's
imbursing
of
hive contrivenced fears;
asleep at the wheel
when their "side" is at bat,
lulled by the filled up space
of
how it all appears,
by the unnoticed humming
of unshifting gears;
by soft spoken tokens
and well drafted shafts
in
the mainlined mining
of headlining beams;
not bothered with acts
but
jousting over dreams;
focused on hocus,
24-7,
hooked on the tonics
that privatize phonics,
inured,
reassured,
most majestically moored;
hypnotically unsensitized,
reflection unencumbered,
culpability denied;
presumptively internalized,
prised in "good guy" guise;
defensively reflexive
and
compartmentalized,
righted might and violence
-tithed and -deified.
in the scribed diatribes
of
omissions implied
(history a mystery scried,)
independence derided,
its leaders decried,
connections uprooted,
cream themed
and
demon styed,
and the crime of chiming
their feelings
despised,
unfamiliarized and localized,
caulked and cauterized.
*
* la séptima ventana *
to the zoned out chorus
of systematically
symptomatic,
emphatically unrecognised siblings
self-anointed liberty
self-applaudingly deprives
in that ghostly dispossessing
unhosting
of
voices,
lost in the hymnals
of would be independence
the
shrapnel never counts,
and those
disembodied other
unsampled,
unsung,
untempled stoic tongues
in the unbelonging throngs
outside
or
within
the convinced fence of freedom's
marketed audience,
with all those
silenced
sighs to see
and
tears with which to hear,
the pander glamming asses,
half a century since
mastered
their staring,
unerringly unsparing
spake of forking rungs,
channelling "interests" loud and clear;
hoisting that flag
(for slaking's staked sake)
to flaunt
the mounting
haunting the font
that
jackets
the "protection" racket,
barking
the sparking
of Darth's laden troops,
stooping for McCarthy's
looping back of snoops,
peering aslant
under foreign looking rocks
for
leaves that ripple
with questioning rings,
hounding the heels
of
Julian and Chelsea
(and America's
disowned
independence itself)
to snap at liberty's
uninformed citizenry
in
the irony of atrophy
where once there were wings,
upping trumped bids
of
inconceivable trillions
for
a war machine that covets
all the most obscene things,
with nothing left over
for the commons at all;
for the humankindling children
in the fell,
quaking future
of
discrimi-bombi-nation's
precipitating
fall.
"progressives", nonetheless
reside in this thrall;
ogling the trumpeted
thumping and "scoop"ing,
supporting
hate's parroting
patriotic trooping,
Eurocentrically paling
in a conscienceless regrouping,
preaching treason's
screening
seizing of unreason,
willingly donning
the pure race unravelling
with us
or
against us shawl,
ignoring Simon's scrawl
on
a sixties unpixelled,
unresounding wall,
reasonably
settling
for the awning
of
the stalling
hauled
underneath
the
emperor's new pall,
dependably "home"steading
the
nationhooded crowning
of
conquering gall.
even though
there's no evidence yet
that we need to be
protected
from
anything but ourselves,
and despite the
elementary observation
any trampled flower could make
that planting 800 military bases
in other nations' spaces,
noosing
Robocop's guns
with Heston's fisted fingers
on
other insecurity's
sanded banding borders,
and calling
the unbridled destruction
on our mother's other children
"foreign policy"
to "defend"
the consummate spinners
of subjectified "terror"
from
objectified "threats"
is like prosecuting
Jack the Ripper's
still breathing victims
for
attempted assault
while
the judge and jury
carve exemplary cadavers
into
stone age dust.
or
stumbling on
the gist of your texts
on an eighty year old, fading fax
in a dead letter office in Berlin.
still,
Charlie Brown's
taken aback quarterbacks
go ahead
and
stump for them anyway.
because it turns out
there's only vagaries of evil
in
the lands
domination
set free,
those
craven havens
of gangrened theme songs.
and like piracy
and
bullying coercion,
in the SuperPowers'
archly deaconed
colonial chorus
of dented consensus
(that bursts the air itself)
mass murder
has
never been
a
deal-breaker
any more
than
the figment of law's
ordering of pigments
for
corralling enforcement's
tanked up slave patrols
can be
voted out of office
or
found guilty of anything
or
the trailing veils pinned
on outrageously remunerated
bucking
Wall Street dodgers
can be
dislodged
from the path
of our pitchforks.
in fact,
notwithstanding
the narrowly contained
yet loudly allowed
distracting tiffs,
sexting stiffs,
budgetary
cliffs,
and
the dizzying ado
and
conquering divide
of social rifting riffs,
you can't choose
from the oligarch's
silvered
and slivered,
sealed
and spooned,
millionaire A
or
billionaire B
Rorschach freedom tests
and
not align with
the
pledging
of
unaccountable death
to
your neighbors.
it can't be done.
it's just not "practical"
to
get
from here
to
there.
and then
they label those
Hollywood curtained,
hopelessly certained,
patriarch starched,
bible belted,
barren brained,
snowed in idiots
the Buffoon of Oz dallies with
"Nazis"
and they do it with a straight face.
*
* la octava ventana *
America,
it would seem,
is that
refulgent bulging space
(where there ought be a place)
belligerently squinting
from nostalgia's scowling,
scolding while its prowling,
unfoldable doldrums
on those Viagra cracked
'inch equals a mile'
idealized maps
where no one understands
what intentions
actually are.
short of revolution's
dawning evolution's
discovery of democracy,
all that remains
is a
fault ridden hope
amidst the clatter
of tattered,
piped in tropes
(from the bidden middens
of riddled, myopic scope)
that exclusive intrusion's
hermetically steeled,
bipartisan reeling,
bipolar trolling,
marooning sewed-in crew
trotting out
their
bereft-left in the right-clefted-white
feel good delusions
of complacently floatin',
warcrime-votin',
presumption-gloatin',
red, blue,
or
purple-throated,
dandered slander and pander winged,
oar-less whoring heroes
(in the rampant moated keeping
of smoothed-oozed regurgitation's
bouncing Barbie
and bobble-headed Biff,
those
bespoken spoked,
profit pitched,
consciencecatcher,
ratcheting dispatchers
and the supremely vicious,
madly suspicious,
crocked and croaking
broken toy generals,
burrowing, ease sopping,
diversity stoppering assassins,
and persuasively invasive
prizling revisers
they
shuffle onto
the well worn tracks
where "opinions"
get pinioned
in
the slots
of
dotted plots)
can somehow manage
to come up with
a few
lukewarm,
next door to honest
non-lethal intentions soon
before
some small-time,
surreptitiously shod,
copycat imitation
of
the world's quintessential,
strutting and "essential",
gluttonous nutting beacon
of extremist male cults
say,
those machete twirling banshees
that crowned the founders
of the Saudi bromanced dance
(crowers over crashing planes
saved by bankered Bushes
to
fund starry-eyed sequels
of headchopper, come a cropper
bogeymandered bane)
or the Isis crisis
the Iraqi crater cradled,
Obama saddled and stabled,
and addled Trump enabled
to
betide "regime change"
genocide
on the latest other peoples'
disrespected nation
or whatever frosted frights
on budget splurging kites
the democracy spiting CIA
decides to hook up next
should get their hands
on junior partner Israel's
uninspected nukes
and incinerate America's
freedom mugging
thugs and rapists
(and their
preoccupied,
consumerized,
dread-threaded,
privilege-embedded,
resisterized,
prideful-eyed supporters,
sniffing those
"democracy"
air fresheners,
sinking in
bloodied bathwater,
squawking at the baby)
as an act
of
tender mercy
(from the earth's
unmantled,
unestranged point of view.)
* ******* * **** * ******* * **** * ******* *
- Evan Hawthorn, the 13th of Ever, 2019
