by Raymond Nat Turner
“Jury Has Spoken Stout and
Nation Of Laws Lager were trotted
Out like “8 Ball,” as Ole English 800’s
Known in the ‘hood.”
No Justice, Nobel, No Beer!
by Raymond Nat Turner
Ice-cold kegs, frosty pitchers and steins
Are draining and flaming debate:
“Less filling,” “Tastes great,” and
Sudden spikes in suicides, homicides,
ER visits and DUIs, since two new
Brews, Jury Has Spoken Stout and
Nation Of Laws Lager were trotted
Out like “8 Ball,” as Ole English 800’s
Known in the ‘hood—double-barrel
Beers packing the punch of panther piss…
Their brew master, the master brewer
Is baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack with his hops,
Fermented fruits and grains, making a
Killing at O’Reilly’s, Hannity’s, Harris-
Perry’s, Charlatan’s, Unca Jim’s, Unca
Ben’s and other red-neck and black
Bourgeois bars where he rolled out
Rose Garden Post Racial Pale Ale
For Skippygate Summits, celebrating
Backwards police power and the law of
Of rule, like just-us Roger B. Taney,
Telling how we get off—Dred Scott-free…
Discerning palates, beer connoisseurs,
Note hints of hemlock, a slightly bitter
Bavarian aftertaste of aging in a Berlin
Bunker, Brown Big Brother & The Holder
Co.’s new bottling, distribution by PDs and
Alphabet agencies… like Bush’s Brew, before…
Raymond Nat Turner can be contacted at upsurgejazz.com.
Raymond Nat Turner © 2013 All Rights Reserved
The New York Times and fellow corporate media discourage Americans from organizing against the rule of the rich by pretending that People Power is a fantasy.
The corporate Democrats refuse to back measures that appeal to huge majorities of their base, preferring instead to campaign against one evil man and his appointees.
The Democrats say they’re running against the most “dangerous president in modern American history,” but Joe Biden has no prescription for resolving any of the crises facing Black and working class
Nation Magazine sportswriter Dave Zirin, speaking to Ann Garrison, says that militarism is a founding feature of American football, not just a bug, but we don’t have to accept it in f
P.O.E.T. are the only letters behind my name— So you scowl; scold; spank my hands with rulers and switches worn smooth from serial beatdowns, dare I use the F-word…
