Saturday, May 25, 2013

system is da problem...

system is da problem. 

We cudda had it all,
But we could never get enough.
We clothed ourselves with 
The Pelts of Torture.
The warmer we made our bodies,
The colder we became inside.
We always took “No!” for an answer 
from corpo-rat un-persons, systemic immortals that could not say yes…

Humans are the canaries in their own 
coal mine.  We have run out of songbirds 
long ago.

We’ve been dancing on our tomb. 
We’ve been decorating all the coffins…
for the living.

You cannot change da system from within because da system is da problem: 
They are like the doctors in the death camps:
Saving the babies only for them to be
executed later.
We are mosh pit bulls dancing in our crypt…as if celebrating…
the Dis-Inheritance of the Meek.
We are nothing more than a big fat Banana
Republic…with a more sophisticated style of corruption.
We believe in our Economics as if they were religions.  Yet religions are political.  Whereas, Real Politik is the economy, stupid!  And has become a business.  
Evil is live spelled backwards:
Our money is an illusion, yet we believe money is the god of all things.  
Our constant growth is Gaia’s cancer.
Dead Zones define the oceans, our fields, and our brains.
Fields of Grass can kill you.  Arugula is the new Geiger counter.
A class war takes up our attention, but it is not as advertized—right and left have merged in an attack of Medieval Memorium, Promulgating their Undead Past upon our Unborn Future.
The Occupy movement is a passive placement within the unjust laws of the land.  It is the current powerful counter-attack by a  self-ruling, cooperative, irregular, and poetic right brain gauche against the linear right hand thuggery of rule by Greed….
You cannot work for Change within da System because…
da system is da problem

Part II
Until now, anarchy has always been the province of Finance, Oil, and the War Machine.  Now it also belongs to any MBA, CIA, and any Type-A, straight-A, anal compulsive, A-hole Alpha Dawg
[not ashamed to kill] Aligned Against 
the rest of us…
They want us to have a Cause to cramp our style, confining discussions to their chosen  issues to lock debate into the adversarial rationalizations of da system attempting to create compromise, even if rarely achieved, whereas constant trials at compromise only compromise the Truth.  
In this way LIES GAIN parity with Truth.
[Imagine negotiating the definition of fraud: When, quote, “it can’t be fraud, if we didn’t know we were lying,” is our leaders’ salient defense.]
No one could have imagined them turning planes into missiles…we have to look forward not back, sayeth the prosecutor….
You cannot work for Change within da System because…

I SHOT THE CHOPPER  revised May 2011, Feb 2013

There’s a chopper--down on Monterey!--
over my house. I mean, my block. It’s been there over an hour. 
What the hell?
Is this the Takeover? Cable hooks to the shackle train?
          They gonna pull us     outa our    beds?!
Why here, in our lousy Sunnyside barrio
There a creep out there?
What’s so bad it’s worth a stinkin’ chopper floating over-bed 
             …for an hour…at three in the morning!
Do I go with the creep or the chopper? Creep’s not keepin’ me up. 
Chopper is. 
Hell, I know what HE wants: money to take care of an itch.
He’s lookin’ for a little touch:
Someone for his lovin’ spoonful.
Sweatin’, skipping over them fences.
[if only his grrrl knew 
what we men go through 
for a taste.] 
Maybe i’ll toss ‘im a gun. I’m out a fifty by lyin’ here anyway. 
                Half awake all day, tomorrow’s shot. 
Pull him inside. Take ‘im downtown. 
Say, hey!  Here’s a massage girl: Go ahead!  
Take the pressure off.
So... What’s the back story? Whose side am I on? 
Don’t want no burglar runnin’ ‘round.  No rapist 
goin’ by Mom’s…. 
Don’t nobody know what the chopper wants either....
Chopper making big noises outside my window…. 
chopper making rounds…down on Mount-Her-Rey.
They say weird Uncle Billy went out to play again today.
Chopper working overtime down on Monterey.
Weird Uncle Billy never had no say.
Chopper shines the spotlight on da house where he was born.
Crack head Mom who lives alone, dyspeptic, likes to knit, 
a bit forlorn.
I tell to Mary, I cun’t sleep with sunrise comin’ two hours 
away all day.
Weird Uncle Billy never had a play. What he ever say?
Chopper makin’ rounds down on Mount-her Ray!
Weird Uncle Billy’d already gone. I call Ma. 
She out, thru her machine, she say.
jimmy gets up mad as hell…!
grabs his rabbit .22 and let that baby fly.
Whacked a spotlight just for show
down on Monterey. Put another in the rotor
just ‘fore break oh day!  Ohoooo…?
I shot the chopper, but I didn’t shoot the fighter plane
I shot the chopper, and I didn’t use a Tomahawk
I shot the chopper, but I did not shoot no A-16.
Put it down where it can’t go
It went down on Monterey…
Crash landed in the center divide.  Out came the pilots cops and one flat-top CIA
Man, they jumped to miss the blades, OK?
Made it do a cartwheel down the parkway down on Monterey
that divides los mojos del Sur “tray-say” and ricos de la Nortay O-fay,
[protectin’ the unborn poor from the edicts of the undead rich]
norteno from sureno, yin from yang, queenies from da gangs. 
OJ badboys copping cans and this clinky bag lady we call Tang
On the night-hound barrio westbound down from soul,
down on good ol’ mouth-her-ray.
I shot the Blackhawk, but I did not shoot no Cherokee.
I shot the chopper, but I did not shoot at Aerosmith.
I shot the chopper, but I did not shoot Geronimo.
Shot da stinkin’ white night-light out, 
Put the .22 back in cleaned n' cold n' in sight out.
I shot the chopper  that was floatin’ over Monterey
t'was makin’ nosey noisey rounds down Monterey.
I hear it was part Sikorski and parts you don’t wanna know.
Some corpo-empire bought out by who know who.
Eastern Euro trash, who somehow y’all know YOU.
Pinochet playboys. Outa werk afrikaaner cops.
showin' our cowboys how to pull out all da stops.
Out come the pilot, cops, and DEA and one more flat-top CIA.
Manly dudes, but dazed, unfazed, dey jumped to miss the blades, Ho-KAY?!
Kids: mostly boys and grrrlie femma nazis darted for their 
abandonated Kalashnikovs or was dey only Alpha-Kays?
belts of ammo.  someone yanked a mylar vest.
a pistol, big ol’ Eastwood ‘86.
I shot the chopper doin’ rounds on Mount-her-ray
the night weird Uncle Billy he ran out to play.
The lights swept o’er our bedroom, Mary,
was gettin’ pretty scared [but I was plenty hard]
the night I shot that chopper goin’ down on mount her, ray.

Is this is...jus' da beginning......kinda rough out der, it shouldn't make me hot... 
...better den viagra.  Mary’s gotta her arms out wide.
She praisin’ god for wakin’ her…fo’another ride...
We’re doing god’s werk down on Mount.her.Rey
Better get this done ‘fore the door caves in, I say.  
I shot the chopper, but I did not shoot the fighter plane.
I shot the chopper.  I can’t say I hurt a soul.
I shot the chopper, but I did not shoot Geronimo.
I shot the Blackhawk, but I did not shoot the Cherokee.
I shot the chopper, but I didn’t shoot that Apache.
I shot the chopper, but did not shoot no Chiricahua
I shot the chopper, but did not shoot one Arapaho.
I shot the chopper, but I didn’t shoot the Navajo.
I shot the chopper, but I didn’t shoot the Kiowa.
I shot the chopper, but I did not shoot the Seminole.
I shot the chopper, but I didn’t shoot no Chippywa.
I shot the chopper, but I did not shoot the Sioux y’know.
I shot the chopper, but I didn’t shoot no Viet-namese.
I shot the chopper, but I did not bomb the Philippines.
I shot the chopper, but I didn’t shoot at Lebanese.
I shot the chopper, but I did not shoot in Tripoli.
I shot the chopper, but my gun won’t fire in Mejico.
And no one ever shot at me…in JalisCo.
               Now you see me, then I go.
I stopped the shoppers, but I did not foreclose the shopping mall.
I wish I’d shot the bankers; it weren’t me brought da ‘conomee to stall.
I fragged the Captain, but i didn’t aim at Captain Jack. 
I let them kill Lumumba, but it was an accident…, cuz he was black...and i was whack.
i did not shoot Allende, nor did I shoot the Kennedys.
I did not drop Torrijos, Arbenz, nor Mossadecq.
I shot at PCP, and crack, and smack, but i did not shoot at MLK.
Getting’ kinda rough out der, wonder why it makes me hot... 
...better den viagra. An’ Mary gotta her arms out wide. 
I’m feelin’ mighty macho, and Mary got her legs up high.
Wrapped aroun’ my head…this good reason to not be dead.
Better get this over with before the door comes in on the fly…
and I can’t get me out of bed.
I shot the chopper so they’d let ol’ Uncle Billy go
I shot da chopper,
But I never shot Geronimo.*
No one ever shot Geronimo.
I don’ know where he go,
no one ever shot Geronimo.
I did not shoot Geronimo.
No one ever shot Geronimo
He go where he wanna go.
No one ever shot Geronimo.
They called ObL Geronimo, and no one ever shot Geronimo
When a pair a troopers jump from planes they shout, “Geronimo!” 
I shot da chopper, but…no one ever shot Geronimo. 

*Geronimo was the code name for the assassination of Osama bin Laden.  2012  in Abbottabad, Pakistan