by Raymond Nat Turner
Bomb 'em to stone man
Free-fire zone man
Jim Jones man
Villain called Drone Man
Wrong Song In The Key Of Death
(Call The Villain)
by Raymond Nat Turner
Flaming grooves burning lard off
Drumsticks and gyrating boo-tays;
Lush chords working their ways
Through Jazz clubs and churches;
Melodies reeling ribbons in from
The sky---Genius of the giant,
Master Blaster, Sir Duke of our times!
But picking politicians,Stevie's either a
Dupe, dope, dunce or dilettante played
By star-spangled charlatans---corporatists
Cloaked in Populist cotton, like Chippendale
Dancers wearing suicide vests, Senors signed,
Sealed and delivered to celebrity-worshipers by the 1%:
Like a relatively unknown man
A hugely overblown man
A corporate grown man
Political clone man
Like a Skull & Bone man
A Rhine-stone man
Testosterone man
Bellicose tone man
Bomb 'em to stone man
Free-fire zone man
Jim Jones man
Villain called Drone Man
Call the villain Drone Man
Call the villain Drone Man...
Raymond Nat Turner (c) 2012 All Rights Reserved
“Papi, are we there— are we almost there?” Wide-eyed incantation of a child, three feet plus/ 60 pounds. Exodus leaving the lowland six days before birthday 7…
This week readers continued to engage with the role of Kwanzaa, responded to arguments about race and class in the criminal justice system, and the possibilities of political party boycotts.
US troops have been dispatched to the Democratic Republic of Congo, where the results of presidential balloting are still unknown.
At the midway point of the Trump presidency the Democrats have nothing to show in the way of meaningful resistance.
The US war machine can no longer provide its corporate masters the neo-colonial stability they need to reap long-term gain from the imperial order.
