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
Neoliberal capitalism is incapable of containing the pandemic or facilitating an economic recovery for the masses.
Rhythms of red, white, blue ‘party’ lights flashing beneath screaming sirens; The rush of warm crimson drawing 2, 4, 6, 8, 10—and then some…
The carceral class is made up of persons of African descent who are systematically stigmatized as unfit for freedom and deserving of the dehumanization that comes with being incarcerated.
The Democratic Party has seemingly accomplished the impossible – a revival of centrism in the midst of its collapse.
Indigenous and Afro-Bolivians spent every day resisting the coup to complete the socialist aspirations of their party.
