My mead marble composition book-
made in vietnam?!?
…the book that I hold closest to me?

-that was the war that the media turned into a movie…

shot from a bunker
for all archie bunkers and meatheads
to cast reel to reel.

real big fish, that dick nixon
-one of the two biggest dicks this world’s ever seen
but at least we stripped him of his dignity.

Hey!… good news…
30 years after intense chemical warfare
stripped trees of their leaves
and ripped skin off the bones of the Vietnamese
they make mead
marble composition notebooks…

Gee… I wonder…
what will Iraq be producing for us
30 years down the road from now?

NIna Simone’s got life and I’ve got Nina Simone
I’m a dreamer, like John Lennon, when he met Yoko
Jimi Hendrix had kissed me with his band of gypsies
Leonard Cohen had suzanne and now he has whiskey
we have what is gone
as the beat travels on
babylon bore a beast under atom’s bomb
now the music we have
does not have the brains that kurt cobain had drained
because all of these artists had pain
in their hearts
now there’s no shame
it’s all fame from the top of the pop charts
aim is way off
because artists get paid to play soft
what the fuck?!
even indie bands play two hand touch
with the blue man group
and talk soup
coup d’ etat…
lets make music to god again
ottoman empire, brooklyn.

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.

tune in the tornado
to channel camel
spit in the wind
until it smacks thomas jefferson
…in the eye…
drips off his chin
and ruins his tie.

Can we carve building blocks out of hard-ons?
Russia and India are sprinkled with penis architecture
the grand wizard bangs his staff into a serpent
and with one fluid wave
mat’s children in scales,
hissing and slithering into k.b. toy stores
looking for plastic machine guns to
pow! pow! pow!
through communication.

Earth is a cold stone
a hole in an eagle
a hole in the ozone
and al gore gets double the sno cone…

as we roll over
behold the blow,
hold it…
for he who has bestowed the plight of our new cause
needs oil to open his lock jaw,
linoleum, cold-
like a credit card, scolding my future

corrosion has coated
my commodore score
in this touchscreen dream,
now the rooster will crow…
when you’re dying for sleep,
the computer will fold…
when you’re needing the truth
and you don’t even know it
-we’re coated, like cables
in webs to spin fables…
sped up the heartbeat, tuned to the newscast
so what if the west likes to chew fast?

we moooo in a blackout
my living room carpet is bluegrass.

mulch that skyline…
mulch that skyscraper…
go corporation, grow!
water the buildings!
rake the dead leaves
fill the sidewalk
mulch! mulch!!
spreading roots in the concrete jungle…
empire state banana tree.

I’ll be jesus surfing from moloa’a to manhattan
this summer to mulch all buildings
to keep con edison cool
and all the poor peeps in the canned ghetto heat
get to eat
ice cubes,
personally cracked by hugo chavez…
mulch the ghetto…
grow green
crack the asphalt
cover ground zero in hay…

maybe something will grow there someday.