LENIN ON DEMOCRACY

1
Democracy, said V.I. Lenin,
Is perfect for the bourgeois state
Since capital, when once again in
A crisis, can promote debate
Involving all since its “democracy”
Is prefect since it screens plutocracy;
And so it serves as “perfect shell”
For helping us abide its hell.
Because you can’t “see” exploitation
(As even could the lowest serf
Without the brains of Papa Smurf),
You’ll never figure the relation:
A fair day’s work for fair day’s wage
Keeps exploitation off the stage.
2
So communists take Marx’s theory
And bring it to the working class
From outside in to people weary
Of taking it all up the ass.
In this sense workers have no nation
Since all promote their exploitation.
But what if they appropriate
The profits that their works create?
Indeed this takes a revolution.
(Democracy goes out the door
When you’re not begging anymore.)
Promoting this as our solution
Means: “WORKERS OF THE WORLD, UNITE!
For capital’s a global blight.

THE AMERICAN FAMILY (FOR CARL DAVIDSON)

You heard “our” president, Obama,
Say we’re a people of one creed
Who stand as one when there’s a trauma.
And though we have all disagreed,
Bipartisan cooperation
Has always made “us” one great nation.
The subtext is: if you’d exploit
The masses, then no maladroit
Displays of raucous competition
Are ever good for bottom lines
Because it sends them awful signs.
They’re children and need our tuition.
So, if we want to keep our loot,
Calm down or they’ll give us the boot.

STATE OF THE UNION 2011 “OUR DESTINY REMAINS OUR CHOICE”

The president showed sensitivity
To business interests first and last;
But then all pols have that proclivity
Or else they’re going nowhere fast.
But that’s the trouble with a nation
That’s built on workers’ exploitation;
And, while it’s true they cannot vote,
The corporations float the boat
Of each and every politician.
It might be called “land of the free”
But only for the powers that be.
The rest await their manumission.
But liberation won’t take voice
If all we play is dealer’s choice.

PATRIOTISM: BURN IT DOWN

A knucklehead is patriotic.
I’d rather see the flag in flames.
It’s after all a semiotic
For jumping other peoples’ claims:
It constituted us in slavery -
America’s first claim to knavery;
And then we slaughtered native bands
Who occupied these “virgin” lands.
And ever since it’s stood for avarice:
For exploitation by the rich
Who’ve made this land their perfect niche,
While all the while we've grown cadaverous.
To this I say we bid adieu
By burning the red, white, and blue.

THE ZEN OF POLITICAL PROMISING

The promises of politicians -
Who, after all, aren’t merely men
And women - aren’t like depositions
But rather are a form of Zen:
Not founded on mere words or letters,
Which hold the mind in meaning’s fetters,
Pols' pledges help us meditate
Our giving up the cares of state.
When we’ve attained this transformation -
Can see the formlessness in form,
And breathed Nirvana’s chloroform-
We’ll put an end to our frustration
And never suffer politics
For putting us into a fix.

AN NOTE ON MAN, RELIGION, AND DINOSAURS

The proudest of all Nature’s species
Who grovels yet before his gods,
Believing others’ gods are feces
And yet has faith his beats the odds.
Who’s settled all things a priori
And knows he’ll win his Heaven’s glory
By wreaking death on “other” men,
As he’s been trained from his playpen.
And does it with such self-assurance:
A holy warrior till the end
When, raging, he goes round the bend
Because he thinks his life insurance
Is everlasting. This thing, man,
Will end, as well, an also-ran.

THIS IS NOT A POEM

I do not have the sensibility
To do much more than really curse.
I write as though public utility
Was each day growing worse and worse.
A poet’s job is self-expression
Done up in tasteful bows' discretion.
At least they claim that’s what’s preferred
When spinning a poetic word.
I claim I am a foul besmircher
Of everything should be besmirched,
Especially gods should stay well churched
And hiding, letting humans nurture
What we do best: sending to hell
The other guy, the infidel.

THE LONE GUNMAN (FOR DICK CHENEY)

If Dickey’s in an altercation,
He paints a target on your back-
To send you down to your damnation
In places like Iran, Iraq.
For Dickey is derived from genus,
As Bush is, Palin, Bachmann: Penis.
And when he has a bone to pick,
He’s turbocharged, a lunatic.
A slithy toad who proved a liar
When taking us into a war,
America’s revolving door.
And once we are the occupier,
He uses this brute vantage point
So that we can stick-up the joint.