by BAR Poet-in-Residence Raymond Nat Turner
War addicts crawl ‘round Capitalist Hill
on hands and knees…
Pipe Dreams…
by BAR Poet-in-Residence Raymond Nat Turner
“Bitch, gimme a hit—
I need a hit, bitch!”
Tourettes targeted, punctuating
“Boots on the ground,” “red line
Crossed,” belligerent babbling like
A crescendo passage from the pit
Orchestra below… This world stage,
Where war addicts crawl ‘round
Capitalist Hill on hands and knees,
High beams on, frantically searching
For kibbles and bits–tiny particles of
Pretext— to put in their pipes and
Smoke to get that high again awaiting
The next domino’s fall in their pipe
Dream, The New Amerikkkan Century…
Raymond Nat Turner can be contacted at upsurgejazz.com.
Raymond Nat Turner © 2013 All Rights Reserved
Fighting Trump’s racist attacks is obviously a necessity but that fight must include opposing the Black misleadership class and their collaboration.
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Likening the suffering of Gazans to that of Rwandan Tutsis perpetuates the narrative that has dominated the African Great Lakes Region for 30 years, allegedly justifying the sacrifice
This Rosh Hashana falls during an ongoing genocide, creating a profound moral crisis for Jewish people. The holiday demands a rejection of the state committing these acts in the name of Jewish safety.
"(Don’t) 'Say his name!'" is the latest from BAR's Poet-in-Residence.
