Monday, September 29, 2008


Who says that we can’t make endorsements
From out the pulpits where we preach?
The Bible needs our reinforcements.
As stains on shirts need lots of bleach,
So we will pour on fire and thunder
So that who hear us will not blunder
And shamble to the voting booth
And not vote for the gospel truth.
If not McCain then sister Sarah-
Despite the threats the IRS
Might make deserves a full-court press-
For she’ll inaugurate an era
Where Christians go full speed ahead
As soon as John McCain is dead.

Saturday, September 27, 2008


For Jesus freaks who now are plotting
Religion in the public square,
Perhaps you ought to go glob-trotting
And see Iran and its nightmare-
Enforcing on a single nation
The status of one congregation;
Who think there’s nothing left to teach
Except for what their mullahs preach;
Who send out goon squads as marauders
Investigating all parked cars
To see who’s leading seminars
On J.K.Rowling’s Harry Potters
Then, after beating them for fraud,
They’re strung up in the name of god.

Friday, September 26, 2008


Mechanically she ope’d her sphincter
So that the camera peered inside
And got a look that was succincter
Than any yet declassified.
I speak, of course, of Sarah Palin,
A joke not even Woody Allen
With all his humor could conceive
Not even in pure make believe.
The camera showed the inconceivable-
At bottom, almost out of sight,
It glimpsed a fading pilot light
That showed what was barely perceivable.
For up her ass was John McCain
Who stood stuck in his smear campaign.

Thursday, September 25, 2008


The man was held in long captivity
Because he didn’t understand
The Constitution’s relativity
On what it means to tip your hand.
If you don’t face a court’s proceeding,
You’re pounded on until you’re bleeding;
And that’s kept up until you break
Or, bloody raw, you’re served as steak.
Arrested on the charge: SUSPICION
Because he fit the profile of
The terrorist- None of the Above,
They finally beat him to submission:
He was an interstellar probe
Sent out to find a peaceful globe.


It’s violence that is systemic
That threatens us with requiem;
Not rapes and murders, epidemic,
Which men commit ad hominem.
These latter liberals find contemptible;
And argue that they are preemptible
If only we were more PC
Respecting all identity.
Did god respect the men of Sodom;
Or capital the working prole,
Exploited body, mind, and soul?
It’s only when you’ve hit rock bottom
That you can see a system work
And know why men can go berserk.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008


According to the Constitution,
Secreted in the Bill of Rights,
You have to talk if your locution
Won't land you in a court’s searchlights.
This means the feds can be freewheeling
And torture you beyond all feeling
So long as you’re not brought to trial
But held until you’ve gone senile.
No doubt the Bush administration
On Cheney’s orders took a stand
On pulling off this slight of hand.
And so, what’s next? The cancellation
Of free speech rights? To take a breath,
And, speaking, talk yourself to death?

Tuesday, September 23, 2008


When Wall Street bankers’ caterwauling
Has reached crescendo in its pitch
With cries about the sky is falling
You know their ploy’s a bait and switch
To get them off the hook for making
Investments that are like housebreaking;
And after they’ve pulled off their heist
They’ll leave us bleeding, sliced and diced.
Come on! Bring on a great depression.
My wallet’s empty anyway.
I’m ready for a come what may.
It’s time we showed what repossession
Looks like to us, the working proles,
When we walk in the leading roles.

Monday, September 22, 2008


McCain was in Alaska hunting
(He had a taste for some fresh meat)
When suddenly he stood confronting
A woman with a toilet seat.
“My dear,” he said. “What are you doing?”
She answered, “Hunting. Out pursuing
A candidate who has the brass
To peek inside my looking glass.”
“The toilet seat,” McCain said asking?
“Yes. Stick your head in. Tell me what
You see.” “I’m looking up your butt.”
“Exactly so,” she said. “It’s masking
The issues with my perfect fit
So none will know you’re full of shit.”
And so the two were joined together
And left Alaska far behind;
The toilet seat their binding tether-
But out of sight was out of mind.
Ms. Palin played to much admiring
Stumps of Christians who’d been retiring
From working to elect McCain
Because they couldn’t potty-train
His mind to their god’s way of seeing.
McCain claimed he’d been born again,
A Daniel in the lion’s den.
He all but cut out reparteeing
And stayed on message fighting chance
His dick would slip from out his pants.
But late one night as they were flying
To Arkansas where they’d debate
The Clintons on the use of lying
When you have cuckolded your mate,
McCain asked Palin her ambition
After he won the competition
For president; and Palin said,
“Assuming, John, that you’re not dead,
I would, of course, want your endorsement
For president- a woman who
Can do the job as well as you.”
McCain said she’d need reinforcement-
For presidents to be world class
Must sometimes take it up the ass.
Now Palin was in full agreement
And pulling out a strap on said,
“Bend over, John.” That’s not what he meant,
Was his reply. “Get on the bed,”
Said Palin. And as she was stripping,
McCain could feel his asshole ripping.
“It’s only fair you should go first,”
Said Palin who seemed well rehearsed.
“But isn’t this against your preachings,”
He asked, exposing his crevasse?
“We’re partners, John. I own your ass.”
Outside the cabin his beseechings
Were heard by everybody there
But thought his “goddamns” were a prayer.

Saturday, September 20, 2008


Clerk counted the cash; made a time-lock drop;
Fingers tell him "take it" but legs won't walk.
Near closing time at the Liquor Quick Stop,
When a whore drags in off the auction block.
Orient eyes say for a pint she'll swap
Whatever he wants from her private stock.
Clerk's wife and kids home snuggled down in bed;
While down behind the counter whore gives head.
Out on the street they call her Miss Saigon-
Mouth and pussy hot as a naplam bomb;
A war bride's baby whose daddy moved on;
She learned sucky-fuck from her Viet mom.
Pro at 14; was a cop her first john,
Used to be a grunt in the Vietnam.
Caught, dealing dope, she stuck her ass up bare;
Said: Cop, take a shot with your ground-to-air.
Down on her knees showing silicone tit,
Once a soft touch now insensible brick.
Her cat scratch tongue and lips and hand don't quit
Till she's sucked him bone dry and slurped his thick.
Her eyes smile up, but stare in her obit;
Handbags got a gun but she ain't that quick.
Very last thought before she's bagged airtight:
White motherfucker got it free tonight.
Drags her in a storeroom; dick still erect;
He ain't felt this good since he left Art Tech.
Tops in his class at the Special Effect;
The Movies said: Genius, write your own check.
Too much, too soon, and he totally wrecked;
Lucky that his lady studied home-ec.
Then staring down at delirium's titty,
He saw his road back to living Fat City.
Props her in a chair; wrestles off her dress;
Steps back and whistles at his late night guest;
Thinks: Doc did her tits was genius, no less,
Carved Botticelli's on a silk thin chest.
He bends down close pets her pussy's recess
Knows it was trophied in the old time West;
Sets in to skin it with a razor blade;
Now he's got a pussy scalp custom made.
He weaves the silky pelt through his gold throat chain,
A spoil of war in the human skin game;
Been played like that since the Abel and Cain;
"Victim" is History"s immortal brand name.
Each against all for the capital gain.
Justified Sinners make the Halls of Fame;
Like Natural Born Scientists in Nobel guise
Helped "give 'em hell" Harry make Nippon fries.
Clerk only wants the American Dream;
Doesn't give a shit its history's obscene;
Doesn't give a damn who he's got to demean
To get his credits on the silver screen.
Thinks: a whore, no matter how it might seem,
Just ain't human- it's a vending machine.
He hurries back up front to shut the store;
Then cleans the "change" she dropped at Death's door.
Time to start work: he ropes her ankles tight;
Hangs her head downward from a ceiling pipe.
Then slits her wrists with a razor blade's bite-
Got to drain blood before she turns to ripe.
Splits her flat belly; spills her guts outright,
Swabbing out the hollow using Handiwipe.
Rub a dub dub blood and guts in a tub
Thinks: I'm halfway back to the Country Club.
Cuts her carcass down; folds back her new crack-
Butchered piece of meat got to be repacked.
Lugs out a carton of Maxi Pad Pack;
Soaks it in rum make a taste your last act.
A wino said it's like drinking shellac;
Just what he needs to hold her gut intact.
Just to make certain her neck holds her head,
He scoops out her brain places pads instead.
Sealed with plastic tape from her breasts to clit,
Hangs her up again with an I.V. drip;
Booze filled veins start to harden like her tit;
Thinks: what a shame he can't take a last dip.
Suddenly though from his brain's snake pit
Crawls an idea from a snuff film clip:
Hard, he cuts her down, shoves his closest kin
Up her "dinky" ass till rigor sets in.
Sits down in a chair with the whore on top,
One hand grabs tit while its brother hooks twat;
Her asshole squeezes till his eyeballs pop;
It's time to pull out but his prick stays caught.
Pumps her up and down but she won't co-op;
His dick is stuck fast up her asshole's grot.
The bump and grind makes his semen explode
Which acts the enema on her last load.
His dick slicks free slimied sticky stink brown;
Grabs his ground-to-air glad it's safe and sound;
Cleans up her pile, wahes both of them down;
Now to get her dressed, get her posed hardbound.
Wrestles on her mini- the street deb's gown.
It's meant to hook the interest that banks compound.
Rich debs sell it at "till death do you part;"
While a street deb peddles it a la carte.
Lifts her from the chair then sticks up her ass
A long-handled broom helps her stand steadfast;
He smooths down her dress, makes her up first class,
But he can't hide the truth that her eyes broadcast.
Dark glasses cover up what he's brought to pass;
Now one last trick to make his icon last:
From her short black hair to her feet high-heeled,
He spray coats his sculpture with Scotchguard Shield.
Like Greek Galatea she thrills his pride;
But now the myth's been Americanized:
She's no sex object; she can't be a bride;
She's American woman idolized.
He's gone extreme that's pretty cut and dried;
But he's just a man Americanized:
He makes his money any way he can;
And now she's a star in the store's floor plan.
Hidden in the racks of the best champagne,
One hand holds a gun, the other a frame.
(No stick's needed now to help her feign
A threatening pose in the clerks con game.)
She's turned toward the wall, "pardon-me's" are vain
So you rub on past this deaf and dumd dame;
Your heart almost stops when you see her gun
Then you get the joke and you poke some fun.
His agent came and looked; said "I'd swear it bleeds.
What you've done only genius could conceive.
You've made from trash a figure that concedes
The desperate life of a modern Eve.
The gun in her hand shows where it all leads,
If you don't keep them locked in make believe.
You're back on the Movies' Most Wanted List;
But dump the body, boy, just in case it's missed."

Thursday, September 18, 2008


McCain, Obama, Biden, Palin-
There’s got to be a better choice
Besides these four! There so banal in
The issues to which they give voice.
So how about the mortgage crisis?
Will they demand self-sacrifices
From banks or will they get cold feet
And throw us, homeless, on the street?
So many voters vote emotion.
No wonder issues aren’t discussed
Except perhaps for Palin’s bust
Which surely won her her promotion.
We want our leaders just like us
Whose heads are overflowing pus.


Do any wonder why elections
Produce the candidates we get?
They’re men and women with connections
They disavow as being dead set
Against. In fact in their campaigning
Year after year they go complaining
Against administrations that
They just can’t wait to copycat.
The candidates are all insiders
Who’ve come to Washington, D.C.
To help promote the powers that be.
They run as if they’re freedom fighters.
Of course that’s only counterfeit-
They’re really there to baby-sit.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008


Of course both sides will keep on lying
Until they’ve either won or lost.
Since losing would be mortifying,
They’ll tell their lies and damn the cost.
The bigger liar wins elections
By circumventing our reflections
And substituting in their stead
Vacations in an empty head.
Most liars use documentation
The way a forger plies his trade-
He uses truth that’s appliqu├ęd
Enough to cause a defamation
Of character that when it’s slurred
Confirms what we would have averred.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008


Identity is self-expression
Explaining who you are to me.
Politically it’s retrogression
If we divide by he and she;
Or if we lack the elasticity
To put aside our own ethnicity
And vote according to our class
Against who really wear the brass.
For class can be a unifier
That pulls together all have-nots
Against the corporate big shots
And puts them on a funeral pyre
Along with our identity
Except for one- the powers that be.

Friday, September 12, 2008


Philosophy says when you’re voting
You’re duty is to do it well;
Or all you’ll end up is promoting
A country that will go to hell.
The trouble though with this election-
It’s slanderous with misdirection.
So how am I supposed to choose
Between two who were born to lose?
The candidates claim they’re all-knowing
But on the issues both men hide
Their views as if they’re classified.
So eeny meeny miny moing
Between Obama and McCain
Is anything… but not inane.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008


The U.S. is an abnormality
Where deep within its people’s soul
There hides the monster BESTIALITY
That waits again its leading role-
As once IT did enslaving “niggers”
Or killing “redskins.” Pulling triggers
Is now a legal contact sport
“Well-aimed” at women who’d abort.
These acts are sanctioned by the Bible
Which also sanctions killing gays;
And others who, against God’s ways,
Have slathered Him with filthy libel-
Defaming His son Jesus Christ
In whose name these were sacrificed.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008


I sit here deep in contemplation
And wonder why our politics
Has led us to the desolation
Of who will win by dirty tricks;
With candidates who’d predispose us
To treat him as if he were Moses
Who’ll lead us to the Promised Land
If we will put him in command.
The likes of John McCain Obama,
Beholden to the corporate boards
Dispersing funds from out their hoards,
Will only deepen national trauma
Since both will finally privatize
Our public goods as enterprise.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008


What argues life is not a fiction
That thinking only makes it so?
With homeowners it is eviction,
Or when the levies overflow;
In old Japan it’s Nagasaki,
America has got Milwaukee;
And Islam has its butcher’s block
Where heads are lopped off in Iraq.
But most of all it’s human yearning
Expressed as if in waking dreams
About the ridding of regimes
Which seem so ripe for overthrowing
Because they’ve made our lives a curse
Where life’s a short ride in a hearse.


If human nature were progressive,
Then we’d not fight for human rights
Against regimes that are oppressive
And profit from our human plights.
And countries would have constitutions
Protecting us from persecutions
Because of what we choose to do
As if we were a wrecking crew
When we oppose the POWER’S hypocrisy.
These claim to give a benefit
Which they know’s really counterfeit.
It’s time we fought for real democracy
Appropriating profits drawn
From out our well of brain and brawn.