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
The race to the bottom is an imperative of austerity, which is foundational to the history of state violence in the U.S.
Another twenty-year anniversary is the World Conference Against Racism (WCAR) that took place in Durban, South Africa between August 31, and September 8. The George W.
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