triple dot com
black box
bic koran
ramadan bomb
american blonde…
psychological warfare our government got us on…

god is gone-no.
he’s a furious god, he has shown
us before.
shofar, so good
WAR!
breathe in the tar.
TV leaves a scar
CD skips a beat
-thats the tune that we march to…
from harps to harpoons
the golden-arched slaughterhouse,
false wars get altered in dark rooms.

part 2
www dot
old money slickster
dot con
drop bombs
on an ashram
the secrets the media keeps, puts the locks on

Babylon, mapped
be it ancient Iraq
I loose patience…
I grasp for my breath
retrace my last steps
revert to a retrograde rotation
enraptured and wrenched
around
higher ground
to look down
on an entire town
as they drown
in a sea
of privatized armies,
securing their freedom.
do you see them?

The celestial cloak of the new moon
expands to extinguish the fire
sparked by a wild son.

A swath of glitter twinkles around mars.

Within a blue whale
the laughter of coyotes
spill
as if from a green bottle
to hit the red dirt
and bubble like peroxide.

All these lacerations
and gouges
man has etched into the earth
like a drunk termite, carving a totem pole
create
more barbeque pits
for politicians
to wax poetic
for hitlers’ soap.

So… what are you more thankful for,
flowers or bees?

During these times of crisis and world famine
the one fruit I would choose
are those apple cheeks
balancing buoyantly
on both corners
of a smile
that makes the leaning tower of pisa
finally get some sleep.