You Know Who

He emanates an ugliness beauty parlors couldn’t fix

it’s not imaginary that victims hear his psyche cackle

his every breath spews a malevolent excretion

A most prized possession being a mirror bloodied and in shards

 

Grievance bleating his perpetual static state

warped by depraved and inconsolable neediness

his vessel always on the ready with decomposing bile

branded the mega alpha and omega but of the self-con

 

All life viewed through a prism transactional

a life long loser incapable of addressing reality

Solomon once wearily shrugged after saying,

“you can’t fix evil, it’s unrecognizable to itself”

Blinded By Perpetual Neediness

The genesis: — “Bush On The Couch” by Dr. Justin A. Frank

It’s your station in life commanding fear or respect

a quality forged by bridges built or wrecked

to aid the weak or succor the powerful

it’s a mantle earned by who you call and cull

 

Being so broken, drink or dominion offer no fix

the holes and flaws become your dominatrix

the higher you go harming on a grander scale

the naked light of failure a darker shade of pale

 

Scuttlin’ from reality, gripping your demon shield

blissful sadism and omnipotence to wickedly wield

tethered to a megalomania writ oh so divine

fostering a callousness of the impervious kind

 

Running and hiding when it was your turn

keeping the VC out of downtown Galveston

as commander, you tell who to kick ass

but in your time to serve, you took a pass

 

An entire life riddled and riven by grievous need

drunk or sober bathing in moral bankruptcy

the U.S. presidency so way out of your league

or a brush cowboy Al-Qaeda-failure-to-heed

 

3,000 people perished in infernos today

code red intel spikes spelling a fray

yet tragedy’s lesson ends with this call

you’ll just need to head out to the mall

 

Because it doesn’t matter what or how

winning the moment, your sacred cow

in your empty suit which you so belong

just bang a gong, getting your war on

 

Chaney and the rest spun you like a top

with a wink and a nod to a virtueless sop

them knowing just what to do and say

GeorgieT got asked to come out and play

 

Sending soldiers off to your madeup war

sexing up the terms, stacking the score

bodies come back, maimed or boxed

your crocodile tears smudging the cost

 

Jesus ain’t served by your lies and war

or trying incessantly to top Daddy’s score

never saying sorry ’cause nobody else mattered

the dead decomposing, their being splattered

 

Just go with the gut, light on the fact

to hell with looking forward and back

no need for analysis and surely no debate

that’s work and carries too heavy a freight

 

New Orleans drowns in water and wind

while who’s pickin’ a guitar, flashing a grin

What was predicted sadly came to pass

“Heckuva job Brownie” is what’s heard last

 

Tryin’ now to counterfeit what is history

judgment lapses for all to feel and see

truth as mangled as your brand of compassion

making selfless good something to ration

 

Dylan, yes, he was spot on back in 1965

telling us with a wink and his loquacious jive

it don’t take a weatherman to make the deduction

GWB, yes, he’s a weapon of mass destruction

 

(written in 2011)

The Past, the Present and The Future

Introduction:

Not final thoughts, call them edible words

written hard in mind and put away wet


Evil is, yes, the world’s purest desire

and humans will never break from its twining

it’s a backwater oozing enchanting siren songs

laden with devil hybrids and soul strip mining

 

Long before this nation’s so-called founding

chains were placed heavy across human hearts

call it the original-est of mankind’s sins

the scars on the Blacks in order to tell them apart

 

Death freighters sailed across the dark seas

Lower in the water, burdened with heavy hate

the ticket-less cargoes bound for King Cotton

timeless auction blocks still the South’s soulmate

 

Label them holy shrines or places of the damned

hellholes of Wallace, Maddox, Connor and that filth

the reality is there’s a new generation always bidding

the latest now nattily dressed in suits and ties of silk

 

Oh, come one, come all to the public lynch

it’s a swing and sway of the three-fifths faction

for when it’s a state’s right to maim and then kill

you cannot emancipate solely with a proclamation

 

Call it an alignment with the status quo gospel

brewed and marinated in feral and fetid DNA

always remember, ‘it’s Mr. James Crow to you boy’

for the genocidal will never stop seeking prey

 

Yes, human giants climbed many of the mountaintops

alerting and and warning about fires of five alarm

challenging the plaintive ‘we’ve always done it this way’

battling malignant foes laden with a love to harm

 

But this ill extends far beyond the southern seceders

to constituents professing kinship with the Golden Rule

but when human innocence is profanely slain

the thirst of all is quenched by the vilest of cesspools

 

Have black lives ever really mattered?

only in the futures market of the enslaved

angels yes, but among us there are no better devils

much history is home sweet home for the depraved