Reality show: Muslim ban 20170128

The Steaming-Teapot Despot’s level of ignorance implodes the soul of America into a sniveling fearful petulant child cross with the arrogance of blind comfort.  The pox of pious judgment from unholy men cakes the hypocrisy of right-wing Christian xenophobia to cull the last flecks of Jesus form the Republican Party.  Abiding consent is consent.  There is no Christ is an immigration ban.
  

There was no Christ in Obama’s drone bombs or George Bush’s Iraq cratering the arts of Aleppo.  There was no Christ in the fires of Ho Chi Minh City.  There was no Christ in American slavery.  Smarmy Snatch-grabber is a long froth of a fetid brew. 

Tests of women and men of quality of heart based on religious beliefs is unconstitutional.  Such filtering is the very root of the American plantation that bore this vitriol in systemic culmination of repugnant xenophobia. 

This is unintelligent goading that causes pain. Muslims have suffered more than any group on Earth from Islamic terrorism. These are the very people America needs to abate the pernicious seed of global fundamentalism. This course of action alienates America's greatest potential allies in our citizenry and abroad from pursuing the extermination of that seed in favor of fertilizing it. Islam is love. Christianity is love. Judaism is love.

America was founded on genocide by Puritans facing persecution after the Thirty Years War seeking refuge sailing in the false illusions of Manifest Destiny. We must reckon our identity here and now in the orders of a narcissistic elitist carnival barker.

Is this who we are? Mosques in flames. Families ripped open for public spectacle. Are we to go as Rome? A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!

A Love Poem 20170128

Summoning guts to write a love poem

Remembering the neural serum to unsheathe heart

Opened metal lunchbox on a desk

Unfolded abutment to a computer monitor

Staring into a folded-pulse bloody

Second line New Orleans trumpet through a window

Reminder to replenish almond milk from the grocer

Distractions from thinking about love

A decade of packing meals

Independence life jacket

Solo ticket row eight seat G to see Louie C.K.

Did not contemplate purchasing two, asking

Ingrained form of travel

Visualizing an over-the-shoulder glance at snow footprints

Paced lines blurring

Cunnilingus tongue acrobatics

Sensation of psychic trauma of insemination

Being a father in a courtroom and protested parking lots

Drinking Pimm’s Cups and Sazeracs to wash

Hoop dreams with poetic dancers and yoginis

The bloodlessness

Egyptian cotton and the way a woman’s buttocks

Slips out the side of the sheet

Welcoming curve of spoons

Flavor of mutual surrender

Orchid petal glitter and crescent lunge Anjaneyasana thighs

Lilac-streaked raven locks and wanting to hold hands in public

Repressed taboo hijacked by dating swipe apps

Anesthetized pap thrum blurring faces

Buddhist sand mandala in a notebook of poems

Devoured by a bitch bulldog tattered pages on carpet

Belly full of words obliterated into fetid numb

That fire of wanting to write snuffed in oxygen-less protocols

Lost employment and lost children, cindered mortgages

Haze over snow sprinkling fairy dust dreams

Knowing it is not that I look at women as unattractive or unapproachable

Female universal human vastness emanating overwhelms

There is a surface place in the fields of white powder

Where men slide about skating time impervious to depths of heart

I cannot be this man, never have, maybe never will

A poet cannot help but feel

To bleed in breath and see the tiny miracles of bloom in a woman’s breath

The curvatures of creation cry out in countless cosmic kisses

A stargazer awed in the profundity of time’s caress

The layered intricacies of witnessing a human being

Of laying body-next-to-body conversing

In a coffee shop or the top of stairs or in the folds

One exposes ovum

To be a lover in the words

Union not limited to licentious straps

Free as butterfly wings gusting cheeks flush with red blood

Lips wet with tingling morn   

I want to bury below the snow

Have conversations with the flight feathers of ravens

Of when you felt safe once, to land, to contemplate twigs and nests

The entomology of caterpillars and nourishment

I want to feel safe enough to let you land

To bed in these white sheets

Open to the warming             

Reality Show 20170125

Reality show: the key to any bigly business is to do bankruptcy well. You can't just lose money. You have to lose a lot of money. You don't want to take a lot of time. Right away you want to tell your customers what they want. They're stupid. You can't pocket billions if you don't defraud billions. Mail order meat. New Jersey casinos. Private clown colleges. Walls. People don't know what they want until you tell them what they want. You want walls people. "No we don't. We don't want to pay for walls."

I promise you want walls. Big F'ing walls bigger than China. China. China. China. I sent one of my servants to get take-out for me once at the Great Wall on 181st street by the A train. I was in my Penthouse having a beautiful woman over to give me my weekly scalp botox exchange. You wouldn't believe the tits on her. I grabbed. I peed the bed. It was fantastic. She put the Moo Goo Gai Pan bucket down on my gold encrusted lion's head I was using for target practice. I had a vision. People want walls. Great walls.

I was coked up like Wiley Coyote. I got my guy Priebus to get the blueprints ready. You're gonna love the wall. It's going have the Trump name on the wall. My face bigger than Jerry Jones stadium tv poking my chin up and wagging my finger at all the rapists not getting in. It's going to be great. A great big wall of Trumpland. We'll put in a casino, a golf course, and a detention center with waterboarding for the fam, Mexico will pay for it.

"How the fuck do you make that happen?" Well first you're going to pay for the wall. Yes you'll pay for it then mmm..

"What was that? You kind of trailed off there." I have to go. Mexico is invading. I have to tweet. We're bombing Jurarez at dawn. Reince where is my Davy Crocket hat?

Reality show 20170124

20170124

Reality show internet troll president newspeak update: EPA get on message you beaver-loving twiggies. There is a thousand-limb honey badger that lives in the center of the Earth controlling 80 degrees in New Orleans in January. Climate change is a hoax. My penis is not small. My crowds were bigger than Obama's. I had the crowd form the shape of my penis with a strong base extending out away from the podium told to leave space around the tip for my dick-pic to America. Also I had way more orcs. Huge. Three to five million android robots built by Hillary and the CIA voted illegally. My popular vote was bigger than any woman's. I am not orange gawk-talk Oz butchering cultural norms to distract you. The words Mr. Trump's ego will now replace the word god in the pledge of allegiance. June 14, 1954 is over. Head cages of rats coming 2018. Trump out.

http://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-man-who-wrote-the-pledge-of-allegiance-93907224/?page=2

True Dreams on Freret Street 20170124

I am not here.

Life is a caked musical note.

Vibrations resonate

Clothe the nudity

Apply clay to sound

Cosmetics and candle wax

Melting occupations

To be this, to be that

I am not sure I ever wanted

Anyplace

Attachments

Connected universal chord

Single sound

Vibrating from nothing

What is

No matter

Where the beings in that way down place

Are in the note

Layers of language

Erectile dysfunction television

Cat tufts and muttered smoke

Converse in a haze gasping

Thinning breath

Need to dive down

Store clocks warp consciousness

Trying to remember what we are

Ocean a melody of dissonance

Energy beacon power plant buoys

Vibrating

I am not here

I am writing books and reading labels

Nonfiction fences fending surface dwellers

An ocean a quadrillion quadrillion meters of water

All directions appearing in blink

Over bottomlessness

Infinite density

Vibrating

How can I feel so alone?

Hold my breath to stay on the surface

Expecting to talk

Enter rooms invisible

Not sure if I want to know

I might be afraid of connecting with anyone

Foolish god damn childish

Imp afraid to dance

Acknowledge the beauty in a diamond

Rocks

Ember of what is

Poetry, truth

Scent of mirages

Naked empires

Trying to love again after apocalypse

Sleeping through spring

Static radio

Dissonance guitar strum

Trying to hear your voice

Afraid to use identifiers

To attempt specificity

Blue lips and triceps tattoos    

I thought I saw you once

I wonder some nights

I am blind now

Valentines blade through cotton

Oxygen in the thin air

Let a nest arrest infibulation

Fears of massacred lovely parts of a body

Censored speech mixed in the twigs and bloody moss

Feathers lift to forget incantations

Spells we tell ourselves

That this is the no place

The place of poetry and matchstick words

The poetry of sidewalks and lighting green lawns aflame

Teenage messiahs made good

That the vibration is real  

Women's March 20170121

Today was future feminism blooming globally in the buds of warrior goddesses. There is an atavistic penchant to imprint a male godhead in the psyche of humanity from Abrahamic monotheisms and other patriarchal mysticisms. This is welded in the muscular grip of the honed hunter responsible for acquiring meat on the arm of the mother of his offspring. We have evolved.

In the crevices of the denial of evolution is a rejection of altering known bodily order. Large is dominant. Kind is weak. Today we marched the streets of New Orleans and thousands and thousands stepped with us around the globe to confront an idea, not a man. The idea is that there is a singular font of power rather than an interconnected hive where every voice is needed in an inextricable web of love.

No matter where one travels, people are deep powerful universes waiting to hear, I see you. I hear you. We are interconnected. You matter. You are not alone. Tell me how you are.

The economic capitalist system’s logical evolution is consolidation into fewer gigantic firms with intractable control over every aspect of global socioeconomic activity. The public economy must regulate the private economy to create better balance otherwise the daily work and bread of so many will accumulate into the coffers of the so few as advances in technology automate the average human into disenfranchised struggle for daily subsistence.

The age of the white male heterosexual Christian pinnacle is nearing midnight. The age of multiculturalism and intersectionality is nearing dawn. The desperation of humanity resorting to Trump as a troll king shows the pain and marketing power of the old guard's disciples and the arrogance of Clinton’s alignment with the same global economic system. Neoliberalism is dying. That is what I saw today in the streets of America. The future is female.

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2017/01/21/world/womens-march-pictures.html

On the Eve

On the eve of the revolution

The reality show kicks off season one

The Orange Skid-mark Jesus

One sexual abuser set to swear in another

On the eve of the revolution

Protesters glitter blown-up tweet placards

Chill of bodies threatened by guns

Hands of terrorists, police

On the eve of the revolution

We toasted to the aristocrats

Clipping glass in an Old Fashioned and a Sazerac

Chiming how the boots would come to sweep the streets

On the eve of the revolution

Pussy hats were knit

Readied in pink

To grab balls back

On the eve of the revolution

Brown hands have picked up the playbill before

Fences and chains bodies remain unimpressed

Bullets and barrels and recompense

On the eve of the revolution

Springsteen Badlands on the radio

Rich man want to be king

And a king ain’t satisfied until he rules everything

On the eve of the revolution

Corner of Toledano and South Claiborne

Man alone with cardboard letters black hands in prayer

Makes eye contact with a man in a red-light car  

On the eve of the revolution

Leaving Commander’s Palace

Fumbles for a five-dollar bill

Feels like an asshole as he hears god bless

On the eve of the revolution

Permafrost is melting two inches left

A Russian submarine lurks

Sailing into Alaska

On the eve of the revolution

Gaza burns into year sixty-nine

Zionist Holocaust redemption

Wall building

On the eve of the revolution

Prayers are answered

Prayers are made

On the eve of the revolution

Neighbor knocks on a stoop

For a few bucks for bus fare

Talks of the Yaka meats stew

On the eve of the revolution

Legitimacy is on parade

Roasting spit of democracy

Not my president  

On the eve of the revolution

Orange face-stained pillow, comfortable, soft

Ready to allow the monsters out the gate

Post-truth reality show distraction

On the eve of the revolution

Breathing in the fire of art

To light apathy aflame as republics burn

In the audacity of hopeful love 

The CIA and Russian Election hacks

The government released its own CIA, NSA, FBI, TMZ report that yes Russia was messing with our presidential election. I read it tonight. Yawn.

One, the Podesta emails from inside the Clinton campaign on WikiLeaks are the actual emails. No one on the Clinton side is disputing that they are not real. Is it an unfair advantage for Trump to have Clinton’s laundry aired; yes, but campaigns try to do that shit all the time. Does Trump sound like an even bigger imbecile denying Russia's helpful role; yes, but that is his ego refusing to believe he did not do it all on his own or that he's fucked if it is proved he helped them or knew about it in anyway. Russia was behind some of the fake news and internet snowball of ignorance that got Trump elected, well ignorant Americans believed nonsense. That is the key to almost every political campaign in the history of this country.

Clinton focused on how sexist, racist, xenophobic, and ill-tempered Trump is, which are valid points, but Cheeto Jesus’ glaring weakness is ignorance of how to do the fucking job. She was embarrassed of coming across as the nerd and lowered the bar. Russia wanted Trump over Clinton because it makes America weaker. Russia has financial interests given its hydrocarbon reserves and oligarchs for a Republican administration, but the real threat is the cold shoulder continuing from Obama to Clinton and the massive talent drop Trump brings across the board of our executive branch. We are vulnerable on an unprecedented level.

America is the grand all time champion of spying on other countries and fucking with their elections and governments. We drone bomb and kill civilians. Maybe if we did not demonize people like Edward Snowden, Julian Assange, and Chelsea Manning for airing America’s dirty little secrets that we are not always the hero in the theater our government tries to wrap in a flag, then maybe we could deal with the truth and have adult elections based in facts rather than a reality show with a pussy-grabber goading chants of “Lock her up” and then openly admitting after the election that it was all bullshit. Clinton goes through federal hearings and passes everything completely vindicated and yet Trump still had the orange balls to act like none of that ever happened. Trump is a narcissistic liar horrendously unqualified, but America does not even blink.

According to the report Russia starting hacking the DNC in July 2015, before Trump was the nominee.
 If the CIA, NSA, and FBI all suddenly are reporting that this shit went on for over a year starting in 2015, why is this only coming out now? Rhetorical second yawn. I just do not trust any reports like this. It reminds me of reading the 9/11 commission report. The report focuses on bias shit in the Russia media. That is not news. The report mentions Russian Television’s support for the Occupy Wall Street movement as revolutionary and anti-fracking (because fracking means Russia’s gas supplies are worth less money). There is a list of propaganda examples Putin does to fuck with the Russian people. No shit. America would never do that with us…

America knows Clinton and Trump both took money, like Obama, like almost every major Democrat and Republican from the root of the problem in Wall Street and neoliberal oligarchs. Clinton did not want to play fair with Sanders. Sanders let the email shit go, which was a mistake on his part. America rolled snake eyes and now we have to pay to guard Trump tower.

The problem is not Russia. The problem is that America is a waning empire. We are overextended and mirroring much of what happened with Britain before us, Rome before that, and Egypt before that on the fringe of neoliberalism causing global economic and environmental collapse. The Earth has no more time for empires. We need smart people willing to stand up, be smart, and shoot straight. Clinton is plenty smart, but she has taken money and turned a blind eye and never made peace with the American people about an economic agenda that was not neoliberalism continued. Trump is a horrendous alternative, but he’s not there because of Russia.

Trump is here because we as an American people are a haughty empire, fat, complacent, apathetic, easily riled up by shiny orange nonsense rather than sober intellectual complex explanations of what is actually transpiring. It’s a story that goes back to Zoroaster and Jesus, the old and new gods, Caesar bread and circuses, who is labeled a barbarian and who is labeled civilized, science and ritual, the hired soldiers of Rome and drone bombs, empathy and entropy, the I.M.F. and Bank of America, a woman’s right to choose and powerful men who refuse to be in a position where they have to listen. We are taught not to think for ourselves or ask questions, but to look into screens to determine what is best for us. We get what we deserve.

https://www.democracynow.org/2017/1/6/glenn_greenwald_democrats_eager_to_blame

Alive Past Midnight and the Fires of Dawn - 20170101

 Twelve-o-two a.m. new year doorbell

Woodford Reserve in the glass and The End of Tour DVD on the screen

Two poets reflecting on 2016 with kidneys and blood

Shatters, ripples, and velocity

Light switch flip and my neighbor Barron rests on the stoop

Eyes blurred haze overlook of well-wishing a happy new year

Wrinkled hands and licked lips of crack decades

Conviction of time served in the epigenesis of a man

Chat of falling bullets and the eighteen in the Glock reminiscent childhood pop-pop

As the fire in the sky cackles star bursts and lovers kissing

Licking the burn of packaged time into the birth of

Mighty cooty fiyo, hey la hey on Mardi Gras Day two months away 

New Orleans, three men whiskey and a battlefield darkness

Rain on smoke, humid and sixty degrees

Barron raises Barak Obama that they never give a man his due

They shot Martin and Malcom and asks what was the difference

National of Islam, pork and alcohol traded for prayer mats 

Christianity and the C.I.A. infiltrated of what it means

When ordinary people threaten the money of powerful men

In brown skin and uprising dreams and self sufficiency

Six legs and three mouths breathing neighbors salutations

As doors open and humans come out, waving hey happy new year

Happy times sinking in a Palestinian roadblock and an Istanbul night club

Gunman and inebriating bodies draining, open fire from the mouths of wolves

Canines and sheep, order and chaos, fear and love

Year of car crashes through green lights, projectile septuagenarians ignoring the word stop

To keep foot to the petal and proceed through the red anyway

Because bodies do not want to look or know, just go

Death and struggle for a living wage to say I paid the bank today

To purchase time in monthly increments to tally a year

Nights of Fetlife and days of garlic at the grocery 

Days of meat-plant and nights of poetry

Yoga to lose the weight and be in the breath

I am still Alive Eddie Vedder on my stereo

Followed by Joe Strummer’s Card Cheat

Oh, do I deserve to be? 

If he only had time to tell of all of the things he planned

With a card up his sleeve, what would he achieve? It means nothing!

Open to the smashed automobile hearts bent in dreams

Metallic in burgeoning through the server crash

Memories of data intake, perceptions and failed brakes

That what we thought we had time to say

Expires, so be the catalyst, do, go up and speak to that human

To say hello my name is

With the audacity between creep and romantic

To be alive in the lightning staring at the fireworks

Melting phosphorus in the eyes, hand on flesh

Knowing that some of us will not live to see morning’s dawn

But for those who breathe intrepid to the mocking bird’s call

Sun blazing bare feet to walk upon broken glass

Trembling scared as hell to say

I do not know you, but here I am and I am willing to leap

To fling headstrong into a moment of exposure

Drinking time’s ferment drunk, but sober enough

To move with humor and poetry to burst

The prisons of my perceptions and dare say participate

In the strands of love that bind this universe

Friendship, familial, sexual, and sociological

We are in this together in the fires of dawn

I see you.  I hear you.  I am alive.