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Nov 14, 2009

Capitalism: A Love Story, Part Deux

Why are you afraid of the chorus?






Ya Basta.

For the Grandmothers

Yesterday my neighbor became a grandmother.

Today i awoke feeling sad for the things that have disappeared within my 35 years of life...

things i cherish only in memory, fantasy and optimistic action.


Since the Bicentennial of the U.S.A. alot has changed.

We moved the Wars for Profit from Guatemala and Vietnam to Iraq and Afghanistan.

All of our communications are being recorded.

Our voting system is being controlled by warmongers.

Our food is chemically sustained and genetically modified.

We are told (and tear-gassed, and clubbed, and arrested) that we must agree on fighting a military war against indigenous people in the name of Security
and we must live our lives as though it is not happening
and it will never end.

We are being forced to choose which President is at fault for eroding the pride and momentum of our nation.

Democrats have become corporate employees and Republicans have become delusional fanatics.

Corporations are creating huge new stadiums and casinos across the nation while libraries, parks and public pools are shutting down for lack of funds and overburdened resources.

This newborn babe is blissfully ignorant of all that bullshit.

I join his mother and grandmothers in hope that the cycles of war and exploitation dominating our world

will diminish from the realm of action to only that of thought

by the time this child of children has their own.

Beautiful Babylon Babies Unite !!!

This Blog existed after Bush II "the lesser" stole 2 elections, before Google ate Blogger,

This Blog existed after Bush II "the lesser" stole 2 elections, before Google ate Blogger,
Love Trumps hate.

Hits of the Month

Poetic HyperLinks Defeating the Impossibilities of Peace

Also sprach Zarathustra to the brothasistahs lost out in the woods…
Rolling stones and hurricanes prime us for the rapid eye movement of whose dream?
A stairway to the dark side of the moon reveals an orchestrated King
singing the blues while sexual pistols whip Jesus’ son.
Who’s influence weens us?
Me and my friends gratefully raged against the machine for three days
in the shadow of the valley of the dead
so big brother and company held us down while the wind cried
nothing to be gained here (except copied rights),
Then a questing tribe of beastly boys found a digable plant
where a buffalo soldier picked up a Gideon’s bible from the Godfather
in joe’s garage (or was it in one of 200 motels?)
Anyway, on a Holiday, the pinball wizard boy (Billie)
followed his heart and stopped pretending he was the king of the little plastic castles
while education, missed in the house of the naked apes, evolved and mutated
into and with ~ Nature Art Love Truth ~ and we do too…
And somewhere over the rainbow dancing fools send clowns and purple rain
into imagine nations where everything is now sacred
and there are no more public enemies or rusted Roots or minor threats
or bad brains or busted rhymes or widespread panic
and everyone can read the hieroglyphics on the wall
and we are all refugees of courtney’s love attaining nirvana….
But then again, you’re so vain, you probly think this poem’s about you-
we are everywhere and we cannot be beaten
it’s all over now baby blue, all we need is Love
Legalize It