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
Venezuela’s betrayal of Alex Saab in handing him over to the U.S. leaves little room for debate. The Bolivarian revolution has been seriously undermined and can only be revived by the Venezuelan…
Malcolm X understood that “oppressed peoples must commit themselves to radical political struggle in order to advance a dignified approach to human rights.” What’s needed is a bottom-up mass movement…
“It is impossible to make a national home for one people in a country inhabited by another, except by dislodging the latter.”
"That Sunday morning Mom cried …" is the latest from BAR's Poet-in-Residence.
The Essequibo dispute benefits Exxon Mobil and the Pentagon while crushing anti-imperialist solidarity.
