Thursday, October 26, 2006

Just Because

The Principles of Anarchism by Lucy E. Parsons

Because oil is thicker than blood
Considering lost love in colonised mud
All of the agents orange red white and blue
Turning your insides to odious glue

Nobody knows what nobody owns up to
Business and politics their goals to pursue
Blurring the boundaries between the disease and the cure
Ripping and rewriting the definition of pure

Packaged and paraded in plastic virtue
It says so on TV - it must be true
From Vietnam to Venezuela Belfast to Beirut
They buy the bullets; decide who to shoot

Who gets the grants and the guns and the ground
Who get the lions share without making a sound
The tick and the tock of apocalypse clock
Justice decided using paper scissors rock

Honesty lost to electronic thumb
Raise your praise to god’s great slum
Hoist that rag over this heap of slag
There to recruit your fodder for flag

Shake hands with the madman from top ‘o the hill
Hear his garbled words swallow his bitter pill
Sugar coated, lubricated for easy reception
Black ops rain and opportunistic deception

This glacier’s melting the mind’s cold resistance
Briefcase bulging with dead insistence
That all is just peachy the system self-correcting
While all around, the earth is rejecting

this virus this vampire this parasitic species
Hell bent on seduction counting gold pieces
Biting the hand that can no longer feed
This dog that continues to lick its own greed

3 comments:

gregrandgar said...

…Because he can.

I fowndoubt
Reality comes apart at the seems
Diplomat’s suit tailored for guns
Briefcase long on America’s dreams
At the cost of everyones sons

red-dirt-girl said...

A poem for you: To A Tidelands Oil Pump

Durable bird pulls interminable worm,
Coiled in subterranean caverns;
Feeds on fossils of fern and monsters.

No robin probes the stubborn burrow;
No blackbird grapples with the earth;
No sparrow draws the marrow from the land.

Hungry, iron-legged heron,
Stark against the apathetic stars
Or stare of sun or variable weather,
Wears no feathers, only barren pinions;
Stoic in steely skin.

In delicate steps across the sand
Fastidious piper picks his way;
Your grim proboscis dips and dips and dips
All night, all day.

by Beatrice Janosco, (1969)

-rdg

Zanzounito said...

"We are against torture", they say
As I reminisce in dismay
Of naked men on leashes,
Their integrity ripped into pieces