Baby Killers

I leave this for your descendants

For your ears are deaf and your eyes blind

Your children will carry your names with bowed heads

This generation of vipers will pass

You will carry this legacy as a badge of calumny

It will be a testimony to your perfidy

No name calling is required

Every child who survives will remember

I want to go Apollo Creed on you all

I want to seize your false piety and warped dreams of Armageddon

And scream, WHAT’S THE MATTER WTH YOU?

I was raised on these stories

Munich, Hitler, poor Anne Frank

who should be a happy Jewish grandmother

Interspersed with moments of glory—ahh, Entebbe!

Reality would intrude little by little, exploding in Lebanon

Yet no one asks why

Why do they hate each other?

Animosity does not arise from nothing

We’re never taught to ask why

Only to choose sides, and it’d better be OUR SIDE or else

How many times have we seen these images

Emaciated shells that should be full and round

Flesh stretched tight over bones that should never be so pronounced

This is not God’s handiwork, this is no freak of nature

It is always deliberate

The speeches so full of platitudes

Oh, they were so convincing

But now I don’t know who you people are

Or what sick place you’re coming from

Our eyes are open, the masks have fallen

You people have debased our proud nation

Marco, Donnie you have shamed us

Joe, worst of all you taught me shame

Three years into your term and we’d have followed you, gladly

Thanks to you, old man, I’ve begun to shed my islamophobia

Would that you had ever done the same

Is it just children in general

Or do you despise babies who don’t quite look like you?

Is their complexion not quite right

Or is it just you?

Were your mothers this disdainful of life?

I would not waste retribution on your souls

I offer you something worse

I hope and pray that you will be forgotten

In days to come I wish it that your names,

Netanyahu, Trump, Biden

When they are spoken

Our descendants will rise from the ashes of civilization

And ask, Who? Sorry, those names don’t mean anything to me

You have created nothing

You have saved nothing

You have made NOTHING great again

May you be footnotes, barely registering

On the ledger of man’s inhumanity

Added to the list

I’d written this a long time ago, obviously judging by the subject matter. I would’ve hoped we’d moved beyond genocide by now; clearly that’s not the case. I’d actually posted a video on YouTube back in 2012, and somehow, ten years later, some moderator decided to delete that video for ‘violent content’. I appealed that decision; however five minutes later they got back to me upholding their decision.

I’m very pissed off by this. None of the images chosen involved beatings, lynchings, rape or any else that might provoke violence. The images of people starving were meant to provoke a response; disgust, disbelief, awareness of what kind of crap is going on in this world. This piece is not meant to advocate violence; it’s a protest against state-sponsored violence.

Well, at the risk of being crude, fuck it. I’m putting it here. Render your own judgement.

darfur, Darfur

loll upon the tongue

join the dreaded list

ethiopia, bangladesh, somalia et al

the poor are always with us

the poor always die continuous

genocide, patricide

racial cleansing aside

how can it be

that there are so many ways to rephrase s singular sin

say it as it is

mass murderers

the armenians in 1915, a million and a half gone

the holocaust of the 1940s, six million to the ovens

the khmer rouge, two million done

the five hundred nations of the native American

why are we so silent in our regard

while the darfurians, one half million so far

are added to the list?

The Lonely Hearts Bar

I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote this. Maybe it’s like those spontaneous pieces John Lennon wrote in the 60s that never made any sense. This is a relic from 1992. Enjoy.

Welcome to the Lonely Hearts Bar

Welcome to the house of loons

It ain’t a place you find in the streets

You gotta crawl in-side your twisted mind

Dino just flew in from the tropics

With a frizzy beard and Spidey

[That’s his eight-legged buddy]

Dino says he’s runnin’ for office

An’ Spidey is his runnin’ mate

Dino swings from the chandelier

While Spidey presses the campaign

There he is, hangin’ over the door

Snaggin’ voters in his loopy web

Step on in to the Lonely Hearts Bar

It’s no place like Santos or Martinez

These are the goons you’ll find

Runnin’ in-side your twisted mind

There’s Jumpin’ Jack Slim shooting pool

Thinks he’s a lumberjack in drag

Yes he’s got a heart that’s true

But he’s been D.D.T.’ed too long

Don’t forget the lady in furs

Wears a ragged sable on her neck

Sittin’ on a barstool on the rocks

Drinkin’ rum an’ coke on ice

She comes in day an’ night

To her little circle of friends

Buenos Dias to Alfredo and the maid

An’ the little poodle from her barrio

Welcome to the Lonely Hearts Bar

Come wallow in a Bud with us

We got nothin’ new to show

‘Cept our twisted little minds.

334 Farralone Avenue

I’ve been carrying this around since the late 80s. This was dedicated to the home I grew up in, at least the first home I had a great fondness for. With the excess time off I’ve had due to medical issues I came back to it, with a couple additions. I don’t know if they help or if its crap. I’m just going to throw it out there and let you decide.

Hello old friend, has it been so long

Since I went far away

Those days are still strong

I left very young, yes it’s been a few years

But for the days long past

I can’t shed any tears

Hey old friend, did the grass stain our pants?

It never spawned any weeds

Or a ‘puppy-doo’ dance

[Neighbors’ ladder sliding along side-boards

While my brothers laughed from the second floor window

And the neighbor raised a fist

GI Joes were not for adulation

But burying in the nearest storm drain]

We’d curl up at dawn on that vent in the floor

The grill marked me up

While the others got warm

[Shattered glass backed into unseen

‘cause I didn’t want to wear a shirt

Comic books in sickbed, Man of Steel with a golden key

Curled up on the couch

All four eyes glued to Spider-Man]

We always ran up the stairs, almost beat them to death

Mom never got her sleep

And she’d scream us all deaf

[Weekends on the radio, Casey Kasem counting down

Or EG Marshall with another mystery theater

In the dark we’d listen, my brothers and me

Did they enjoy those shows

Or tolerate them for my sake?]

[Drove past you one fully grown afternoon

To a stranger, remodeled, painted a dingy brown

Defiled]

So long old friend, I don’t think it’s the end

You were too good to me

I hope I come home again.

I Hope My Grandchildren Forgive You

I hope my grandchildren forgive you

for what you brought on our land

for the world we leave to them

Forgive the desert that was once California

the parched land and tongues of ordinary souls

rationed to a few drips a day

or will that be a week, who knows?

Forgive the 30 years wasted in deceit and denial

while simulations became fact

and facts piled on facts

and opportunities to act became wasted in dithering politics

And to the passing of the Floridas

while salt of sea infiltrated our children’s drinking supplies

I fear not for New Orleans, she’ll adapt

she always does

Forgive us the storms like no other

coming to a landmark near you

New York barraged by tides she’ll not soon forget

Lady Liberty will stand as a beacon still

even waist deep in the ocean

I certainly hope they can find it in their hearts

to forgive your cowardice, your avarice,

your blind blinkered stupidity

‘Cos God knows I won’t