back on the farm
connecting the stars
out of harms way
-except for the outerspace arm’s race
satellite car chase
pull the guitar from the hard case and play
we have star wars, twentyfour hours a day
china vs. russia vs. u.s. of a.
and all three have nothing to say
they stay quiet…
they muffle their citizens rage
with a blanket of violence
invisible, digital silence.

back on my resting spot,
connect the dots- but they move
no patience for this constellation
it proves, they have nothing to do
with their time except spy
and spread death from the sky
does my telescope lie?
I have quotes from Ben Franklin,
predicting a time
when we’ll look to the heavens
at man made stars
and a backdrop of mars
with this look in it’s eye

-it’s the twinkle of war
and it shines.

back on the farm
and we’re all going blind
on this island
hawai’in papaya asylum.
trapped on one of the two
last stars on the flag
in this nation
that we took to keep our troops stationed
on bases
that face the direction of asians
and russians…
the clone of ron reagan
pressed down on the button,
igniting the satellites…
an arcade chain reaction
to light up this night
with a neo-con war machine appetite.