Want Terrorism? Got Terrorism!

We live in a world in which:
close to half of the world population,
or some three billion people,
live in poverty and extreme poverty;
one billion people live in slums;
another billion don’t have access to clean drinking water;
and 50,000 people, of which 30,000 are children, die every day,
of hunger, malnutrition and easily preventable diseases.

Caroline Glick’s Paradise Lost

oh I’m so sorry to hear Caroline B. Glick
your vacation in the paradise in northern Israel
was so rudely interrupted by those scalawags
wanting the release of their thousands
of kidnapped kin and were so audacious
as to take two Israel soldiers captive.

And durn that UN, in Ms Glick’s words
“the UN and the EU are organizations
dedicated to ensuring the survival of
organizations like Hizbullah and Hamas”
you know
the one that was created after WW II
dedicated to never more a holocaust
or Hiroshima and of course Israel’s hands
have no blood for not signing
the Nonnuclear Proliferation Treaty
and holding the threat of a mushroom cloud
over the heads of their neighbors,
you know
those same people
that carved Israel out of Palestine.

Israeli Kidnapped, but the Palestinians Captured?

“Conversion, consists of pounding
one’s own words into a man’s ears
until they start coming out of his mouth.”
– Robert Anton Wilson

If they are Israeli
they are kidnapped.
If they are Palestinian
they are captured.

If the Israeli (or Americans)
kill innocents they say “sorry”.
If Palestinians kill innocents
they are terrorists.

History proves Humans Have Not Learn From History

Jewish Wolrd Review:

“To my Arab brothers: The War with Israel Is Over
— and they won. Now let’s finally move forward….
In other words, brothers, you are down, out, and alone
in a burnt-out landscape that is shrinking by the day.”

Aljaxeera:

“Hezbollah has captured two Israeli soldiers in attacks
from Lebanon on enemy border posts, prompting Israel
to launch ground and air assaults.”

And the beat goes on…
We didn’t start the fire…
Don’t let them talk your salt
all we have left is our salt…

US deploys missile destroyer to Japan

(or a real life game of Go)

The USS Mustin’s deployment was
planned some time ago, the Navy said.
(Prbly not for 60 years but 60 years
did turn enemies into friends
or maybe only following orders).

Heaven to Betsy only knows
the turn around time between
Israel and Palestine
so is there is hope Sadie?
there’s Uncle Sam, maybe…bringing
Senators Libermans to their senses
of the Christian thing to do…like
make of your enemies friends?

Kim Jong Il = The Mouse That Roared

mirror mirror before my face

who you x-ray in my eyes
a walking miracle walking pain
painted blue black and red,
paupers penning poems-
is it always somewhere 3 a.m.,
half the time, 3 p.m., and
always autumn somewhere
when a poet dies?

wildflowers always die in summer
with mother in their mirrors
oh where are our dear fathers
sons gone, every one
when will they ever learn
war breeds revenge?

mirror mirror of perpetual war
see us here all violence begetting violence
voice box by-passing human hearts
knowing in the gut speaking violence
thru the heart is life destroying

bird songs in the right ear
TV war talk in the left

eureka Gregory declares Kim Jong Il
is “The Mouse That Roared”
how coulda we forget?
is it/was it what happens
when The Fox splits countries
north from south?
who coulda not known Iraq
woulda become a Bush Burning Triangle
in the Belly Button of humankind

mirror mirror on the wall of history
who is the biggest Fool of all?

Mirror answers,
“The eyes that refuse to see.”

“Our country is in distress and is going down in poops.”

(replied an American patriotic poet when
asked why he flew his flag upside down)

and still descending…

Three month report from Baghdad’s central morgue:

..bodies received in the past 3 months
(more eye for an eye)
in June – 1,595
in May – 1,375
in April – 1,155

a grand total of 4,125
more
dead Iraqis.

Did Ken get Lay’d by the Keeper of Secrets?
Did our Senate wayLay US by wasting time
debating burning a symbol?

yepper little big poet
“down in poops!”

TO A CONTEMPORARY BUNKSHOOTER

by Carl Sandburg

You come along. . . tearing your shirt. . . yelling about Jesus.
Where do you get that stuff?
What do you know about Jesus?
Jesus had a way of talking soft and outside of a few
bankers and higher-ups among the con men of Jerusalem
everybody liked to have this Jesus around because
he never made any fake passes and everything
he said went and he helped the sick and gave the
people hope.

You come along squirting words at us, shaking your fist
and calling us all damn fools so fierce the froth slobbers
over your lips. . . always blabbing we’re all
going to hell straight off and you know all about it.

I’ve read Jesus’ words. I know what he said. You don’t
throw any scare into me. I’ve got your number. I
know how much you know about Jesus.
He never came near clean people or dirty people but
they felt cleaner because he came along. It was your
crowd of bankers and business men and lawyers
hired the sluggers and murderers who put Jesus out
of the running.

I say the same bunch backing you nailed the nails into
the hands of this Jesus of Nazareth. He had lined
up against him the same crooks and strong-arm men
now lined up with you paying your way.

This Jesus was good to look at, smelled good, listened
good. He threw out something fresh and beautiful
from the skin of his body and the touch of his hands
wherever he passed along.
You slimy bunkshooter, you put a smut on every human
blossom in reach of your rotten breath belching
about hell-fire and hiccupping about this Man who
lived a clean life in Galilee.

When are you going to quit making the carpenters build
emergency hospitals for women and girls driven
crazy with wrecked nerves from your gibberish about
Jesus–I put it to you again: Where do you get that
stuff; what do you know about Jesus?

Go ahead and bust all the chairs you want to. Smash
a whole wagon load of furniture at every performance.
Turn sixty somersaults and stand on your
nutty head. If it wasn’t for the way you scare the
women and kids I’d feel sorry for you and pass the hat.
I like to watch a good four-flusher work, but not when
he starts people puking and calling for the doctors.
I like a man that’s got nerve and can pull off a great
original performance, but you–you’re only a bug-
house peddler of second-hand gospel–you’re only
shoving out a phoney imitation of the goods this
Jesus wanted free as air and sunlight.

You tell people living in shanties Jesus is going to fix it
up all right with them by giving them mansions in
the skies after they’re dead and the worms have
eaten ’em.
You tell $6 a week department store girls all they need
is Jesus; you take a steel trust wop, dead without
having lived, gray and shrunken at forty years of
age, and you tell him to look at Jesus on the cross
and he’ll be all right.
You tell poor people they don’t need any more money
on pay day and even if it’s fierce to be out of a job,
Jesus’ll fix that up all right, all right–all they gotta
do is take Jesus the way you say.
I’m telling you Jesus wouldn’t stand for the stuff you’re
handing out. Jesus played it different. The bankers
and lawyers of Jerusalem got their sluggers and
murderers to go after Jesus just because Jesus
wouldn’t play their game. He didn’t sit in with
the big thieves.

I don’t want a lot of gab from a bunkshooter in my religion.
I won’t take my religion from any man who never works
except with his mouth and never cherishes any memory
except the face of the woman on the American
silver dollar.

I ask you to come through and show me where you’re
pouring out the blood of your life.

I’ve been to this suburb of Jerusalem they call Golgotha,
where they nailed Him, and I know if the story is
straight it was real blood ran from His hands and
the nail-holes, and it was real blood spurted in red
drops where the spear of the Roman soldier rammed
in between the ribs of this Jesus of Nazareth.

Oh My Awful Goodness!

want explanations
here’s the point!
“No one will go unpunished!”
Where’s the hook?
in the heart and no where else
What happens when we create a by-pass
something shouts from the gut
o
I want to sing a love song
when someone’s sleeping in my head
but three is four are you there Moriarty?
tossing to and fro
saying we are all bi-polar now
drumbeats calling rain or calling war
despise meets hate
in the corridor of mirrors
“Evil for a good cause!”, shouts hate.
calling hearts to halt and think
When old ways meet new ways,
flip-flopping is a silly grin
When history proves
we have not learned from it,
night falls hard into mourning.