me playing the drums

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Before circumstance has its wicked way

Before circumstance has its wicked way

Living the insular
Settled blinking safety
Throwing it up to the world
Steamrolling the cutting edge
Rolling around in the grubby reality
Opening the window of subversion
Back into the crucible
Collecting your street credentials
Your tattoos now culturally relevant
They want to put you on stage
Turn this into a circus
Bring the fight on all channels
Torn apart by rich idiots
Three fisted close-ups
A sublime understanding
Sponsored by the military industrial complex
The undergraduate female
Ready for the visceral web
Old enough for the resurrection
Stretching this abstract place
Standing atop your concrete monument
The wind across the moment
You are alive in the underground
Ringing out your freedom beats
Riding the sonic wave
Shouting “Liberation!”
Under your hypnotic mantra
Feeling the raw power
Unity and belief
They can’t subvert your heart
Combined carrot and stick
They just can’t crack this
Descending like a total blur
No letting it sink
Settling into your panicked flow
82 thugs still screaming
Locked up with Clark Kent
They still believe in this soldier
Savoring the golden glow
All those crazy thoughts
Flying you back to London
Tweaking on February sales
The even steel of pipe
Fresh level stalking
Cranking your demo for Tarantino
Brand spanking new
A fresh face with a twisted mind
Being kind to your strangers
Seeing how they react
A systematic scan
Booting out the system
Having what it took to enter the world
Pounding through the walls
Looking like a friend
Bent on suspicion
The long tall silence
It never springs up again
Naturally irreverent
Just boiling it down

Driving this vehicle of vengeance

Driving this vehicle of vengeance

The frame for this poem is the evil that humans perpetrate upon each other. Humanity has shown itself to be capable of performing great acts of evil. Also, the American war machine uses labels of “evil” as a means of dehumanizing the enemy. If our enemies are not human, then we are justified in our violence against them.

You sit, safely tucked away in your ghetto
of confusion. It’s not really a ghetto, is it?
It is more like an enclave. A place where
like minds congregate and plot their
evil deeds. Your deeds pile up against you
like prisoners in Abu Ghraib prison. Poor
dark hooded creatures with wires attached
to their testicles. In this case you suggest
that the ends justify the means. They are
terrorists and deserve the most vile treatments.
You did it all in the name of liberty and another
man dies with a bullet in his head. His sin was
violating society’s boundaries.