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 Rated: M for use of profanity
This poem is a mastery of wit and spew, whipping its tongue at the corporations, government and other societal atrocities.
~ Jenna Bensoussan, ACED Magazine, Editor
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Now Cowboy Dubya would join the ranks of the great simulacra of men,
Hitler and Stalin, to work his fame with planes
and tanks roaring over the potential pipelines
of Iraq in the dead of night, adding the charred
cadavers of forgotten Baghdad into the
political potluck stew of subordination.
And the blond-haired, blue-eyed American family watching the
black widow weave her web of deceit
on the six o'clock news, waving the three-colored
rag of conformity, while speaking in reverse
Jagger-jargon proclaiming, you can't always get what you need, and to hell with what you want.
These blistering blood-shot dilated stone-glassed mirrors to my soul
images were brought to you by the fine people at
News Corp, Viacom, GE, and Time-Warner,
who were pleased to present this
commercial-induced catatonia.
As I dare to stare at the mindless mellow-dome,
watching some washed-up soap-opera actress
licking the shaft of a Pepsi bottle, preparing
for the carbonated happy ending.
As I dare to stare at the mindless mellow-dome,
smoking the ganja of gluttony, intoxicated
by the fumes of multi-capital proliferation
controlled by transnational corporations,
while hoping for another hit of this
heavenly hash to feed my halluci-Nation.
As I dare to stare at the mindless mellow-dome,
unaware of the fact that the ripe yellow
Chiquita banana of my maladjusted mastication
came at the discount price of over hundreds of thousands
of Latin-American lives, allowing United Fruit to
fill their piggy-banks with the clickity-clanks
of our nickel-and-dimed sisters and brothers.
Amerikkka, you're making a mockery in mayhem
by modernizing monotonous, motionless, mishmash,
mollycoddle, monastic machines of mediocrity.
As I dare to stare at the mindless mellow-dome,
listening to American Idol rumors of who
Paula Abdul is fucking now,
while sipping my lukewarm Starfucks café latte,
gazing into the abyss of this
hegemonic paralysis.
Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland
where last season's prime-time television hit has
been cancelled, still waiting for the channel to change.
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