Interpretation

Side One: infiltrating the mindset, such as it is, of the evangelical/Tea Party political movement

While waiting out faithfully for Jesus to return
we’re conveniently ignoring his being foreign born
because we know dark and dirty ain’t going set us free
our preachers have promised us that could never be

Now our Lord doesn’t believe in government taxes
but some swear of his emailing and sending faxes
we know he righteously did heal and then tout
“I’m a miracle worker, all because I lack doubt”

That crap about his rolling with harlots and whores
it’s a campaign of hate by poseurs and bores
from those Beezlebub purveyors of the 666 code
come Judgment Day they’ll burn and explode

Crowds will swarm the bonfire, making it most large
reveling in the special appearance by Madame DeFarge
but for heaven’s sake ’cause there’s no good reason
Lord, please make it a-f-t-e-r the football season

Flip Side: A stream of consciousness

The Fox folks at their extra best idiot savantin’
while the radio fatboy spouts pure Oxycontin
they’re all parading around like virgin whores
who long ago played the quit card in keeping score

Yes, the drawing and quartering of commonsense
a perimeter of ignorance led by the willfully dense
declining sharpening tools for their dullest of minds
continuing to belly up to the buffet where haters dine

As war is now a status quo component of modern life
with huckster marketers waving the profitable flag of strife
as bodies appear double-stacked in the old tombstone corral
more enemies are created to boost our slipsliding morale

Now some are saying corporations are just like people
and they can’t wait for the Sunday sermon prequel
causing the hounds of whoredom to eagerly bay anew
as our religious speakeasies divest of the Golden Rule

The dirty little secret not taught in our purest of schools
challenging conventional wisdom – no that wouldn’t do
it’s ‘apostate heretics’ fighting to change the ties that binded
but was it Gailleo or the Church oh so woefully blinded?

Late Brother MLK brimming full of sacrifice and desire
sparking the kindling, setting off the holiest of fires
yes the powerful must eventually stand solitary nude
despite the rush to clothe them by the apologetic lewd

yessiree, of thee I do sing of the need for a USA spring

The Holy See is blinded

Plying misogny with his favorite, simony
was Pope Gregory’s corporate coup policy
those married priests, what a bugger to solve
starving wives and children just damage collateral

A hatred for females, either minor and adult
protecting penises like a phallic-worshipping cult
a sweet spot for power and mass subjugation
collective disdain for half of creation

Just like on earth as it is in so-called heaven
Pope powered genocide billed as killing without sin
Blood spilled, lives lost, all for imperial control
while the holy city lies in residence within us all

Ah, the axes of devils in Avignon and Rome
selling title and salvation with hearts of stone
pardons for sale, heaven’s entrance for a price
and that’s only if the hierarchy decides to play nice

Shakedowns dressed up in finery and glory
while dispensing ‘our Fathers’ and hailing Marys
the abuse of children begets damage limitation
orbiting away from any spiritual direction

Off with the Cathars and the Anabaptists
woe to Hildegard, all the heretics on the list
treat reason as a treason, ideas as threats
you’re with us or against us, place your bets

Galileo, he should think the same
yet it’s rapacious priests shielded from shame
between being bastards and producing ’em as kin
all deserving placement in the apocalyptic dustbin

Try canonizing respect in a real life moment of zen
Silence the tongues preaching most Orwellian
It’s long past time for all to walk the Damascus Road
A living adherence to love’s labors’ found lost code

Crack in the Mirror

Got to have at least one olde Irish ditty in the repertoire.

Johnny Spillane be my name
I’m neither of fortune or fame
but with my able hardy back
I climbed out of the potato sack
and made a family and a living

Life was bleak in County Cork
me the twelfth arrival of the stork
my family had neither land
nor any opportunity at hand
so I shipped off to Ameri-cay

Having no papers or money
oh, that land of milk and honey
she was mighty, mighty harsh
it being ‘no dogs and no Irish’
so I did what I had to do

Getting off that bottom rung
was no sweet sung song
the dollars and coins were sweated
as I obeyed and marionetted
biding my time all the while

Then I caught me a lucky break
an offer from a Mallow rake
to supply the needed muscle
enforcing his wayward hustle
so my pocket began to fill

Now, I sit behind a desk
others working at my behest
a society respected man
who started with nary a plan
blessed, if there be a God

My past, I keep it well hidden
when I was doing others’ bidding
for no one would ever believe
what I did so I could achieve
and drag myself out of the gutter

Now I’m acting like the Brits
it gives my elderly parents fits
scorning the powerless once like me
though they’re not any threat as I see
all they want is their dreams to be

Book Review: Carol Anderson’s “White Rage: The Unspoken Truth of Our Racial Divide”

Carol Anderson’s book “White Rage The Unspoken Truth of Our Racial Divide” considers the myopia, if not chosen ignorance, of most United States citizens who can readily recite such historical events as the murder of Martin Luther King and, to a lesser degree, that of Medgar Evers, as well as nine worshippers being murdered in a Charleston, South Carolina church in 2015, the 1965 conflagration in Watts as well as in Detroit during 1967 but fail to see the daily root causes-and-resulting effects vis-a-vis minority life in this country.

The failure of a broad percentage of our populace to connect-any-of-these-dots along the racial spectrum to both historical and more current events sits alongside the majority’s primary reaction to such being applause for the application of greater oppressive law and order, and worse. Perpetuation thrives.

Anderson details what is conveniently overlooked: the unacknowledged daily violence in all its forms conducted by courts, legislatures and all other elements of government against minorities throughout United States history.

A critical point: ‘Black rage’ has long been applied pejoratively so why minimal, if at all, usage of ‘white rage’ alongside no negative connotation?

Throughout her book, she utilizes past and present day critical truths in making her points, including:

  • The historical undermining of democracy via systemic and institutional voting, employment and housing restrictions
  • Black Codes with the sole purpose of eliminating self-sufficiency
  • Voter suppression to this day with limited or no early voting, the requirement of ID cards while DMV posts which produce such identification are shuttered
  • In 1860, 80% of America’s GNP was tied to slavery
  • Southern whites tried to stop the Great Migration
  • Not including suffrage was a fatal omission in Reconstruction
  • Any terms of surrender would have been accepted by the South, thus a missed opportunity
  • Chief Justice Roger Taney declaring in the Dred Scott case that “black people have no rights which the white man is bound to respect” (this from an individual holding the most esteemed legal position in the nation)
  • Spectacle lynchings included promotional trains bringing spectators to the events
  • The Republican Southern strategy of Nixon and Reagan designed to denigrate welfare recipients (always referencing people of color) so as to keep and promote racial tensions

Anderson provides so much missing and important history which won’t ever be found in high school textbooks.

Anderson also has a new book out titled “One Person, No Vote How Voter Suppression Is Destroying Our Democracy”

We’ll Think for You

Plying misogny with his favorite, simony
was Pope Gregory’s corporate policy
those married priests, what a bugger to solve
starving wives and children just damage collateral

A hatred for vaginas, either minor and adult
protecting penises like a phallic-worshipping cult
a sweet spot for power and mass subjugation
collective disdain for over half of creation

Just like on earth as it is in so-called heaven
Pope powered genocide billed as killing without sin
Blood spilled, lives lost, all for imperial control
while the holy city lies in residence within us all

Ah, the devils do-ers in Avignon and Rome
selling title and salvation with hearts of stone
pardons for sale, heaven’s entrance for a price
and that’s only if the hierarchy wants to play nice

Shakedowns dressed up in finery and glory
while dispensing ‘our Fathers’ and hailing Marys
the abuse of children begets damage limitation
orbiting away from any fathomable spiritual direction

Off with the Cathars and the Anabaptists
woe to Hildegard especially but all heretics
the treatment of reason as a treason, ideas as threats
you’re with us or against us, place your bets

Galileo, the heretic, he should think the same
yet it’s rapacious priests shielded from shame
between being bastards and producing ’em as kin
deserving of placement in the apocalyptic dustbin

Try canonizing respect in a real life moment of zen
Silence the tongues preaching most Orwellian
It’s long past time for all to walk the Damascus Road
A living adherence to love’s labors’ found lost code

Our Masquerade

what frightens us most is what we reflect
those invisible shadows of Cain’s silhouette
we dance and maneuver like marionettes
acting out story lines, singing duets
uttering kind words and well-chosen sobriquets
righteously shouting unholy epithets
masquerading as patrons of civil etiquette
burying treasure, excavating regret
missing entire letters from life’s alphabet
flustered and bewildered by what we beget
unable to remember, able to forget
that which is sacrosanct, so delicate

The Financial Rapist’s Creed

It’s not a complicated business this taxpayer trough
all this money-making there for the my taking
from the get-go, I counterfeit an inside flush
rigging the system enough to make a dead man blush

I’m a rainmaker, just pissing all over yours and you
a money whore galore, hey that’s just how I roll
A gentleman farmer, growing a bumper cash crop
I’m at the top, ain’t gonna drop, with no plans to stop

Chorus:

I fix matters to fail fortuitously fruitful
betting on despair is just part of the plan
of looting coffers and shedding all blame
putting Willie Sutton to professional shame

Impunity, immunity, it’s about the I’s and no U’s
whatever I desire is going to be mine, mine, mine
go big and go large and go deep and go long
I can’t go wrong ’cause I have no words to that song

You call me the rapaciously evil devil of the vault
label me a dollar bill Caligula or a close derivative
for simply making figures align, yes I live so fine
I’m a financial whiz, there’s no her or his, just mine

Chorus

I’m just a financial whiz, there’s no her or his, just mine

A Christmas Ditty

Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the manger
about to appear on earth
was the Holy Roman danger

The moment finally arrived
he emerged all red and rude
without finery and crown
but bursting with attitude

He loved the vagabond life
for which he was truly ordained
a fisher of women and men
and a vintner when he deigned

Most were not disturbed
by this rouser of the few
but bulls and bears feared him
the priesthood and neo-cons too

So they worked up the Romans
calling in chits and favors
the press jumped right in
on this most holy ‘hater’

He was added to watch lists
deterred by no-caravan-zones
his conversations recorded
the victim of unworthy tomes

A drone watched his bearings
a smear campaign designed
he’s not one of us or ours
a mantra devoutly un-divine

Shipped out to Guantanamo
President Pilate not of his fans
“the dark side’s not my doing”
as he verily washed his hands

Crucifixion has many platforms
hate fed by numerous fuels
sadly money and power prevail
when riling those who actually rule