by BAR poet in residence Raymond Nat Turner
lip gloss by Lockheed
broomstick by Boeing
Militarist Medley Of the Wicked Witch of The West
by BAR poet in residence Raymond Nat Turner
I.
Chevron cauldron of Kool-Aid bubbling green,
fracking fluid for Dem-witted monkeys readying
to fly in formation from Philly to the Pentagon;
methane clouds, ghastly skull and bones
hovering like āA little poisonā¦ā from Monsanto
Donāt drinkāDonātā drinkāDonāt drinkā¦
Donāt drinkāDonātā drinkāDonāt drinkā¦
Donāt drinkāDonātā drinkāDonāt drinkā¦
Donāt drinkāDonātā drinkāDonāt drinkā¦
Broomstick by Boeing, the Wicked Witch of The
West, Golda-plated Iron Lady, Haliburton hustler,
who in a just world would be standing trial at The
Hague; instead, she dances on Goldman-Sachs of
dark money; her coven cackling, āWe fudged, we
SpunāWe lied! We came, we sawāhe died!ā
āWe fudged, we spunāWe lied! We came, we sawā
He died!ā
She covets the Ruby Combat Boots on The
Commander who should also be at The Hagueā¦
Donāt drinkāDonātā drinkāDonāt drinkā¦
Donāt drinkāDonātā drinkāDonāt drinkā¦
Donāt drinkāDonātā drinkāDonāt drinkā¦
Donāt drinkāDonātā drinkāDonāt drinkā¦
II.
She strafes, just like a warlord
Yes, she does
She makes war just like a warlordā
And she takes just like a warlordā
But she fakes like a Goldwater Girlā¦
She plays dominoes with Negrozā
Yes, she does
Everybody knows her deadly warriorsā
Poseāeverybody except Negroz!
Nobody here feels any painā
When she splatters a babyās blood and brainā¦ā
Aw, I must admit that itās time for me to spit:
III.
There is a bomb in Killiaryā
May be World War III?
There is a bomb in Killiary
Another killing spreeā¦
There is a bomb in Killiary,
To keep the wars all goingā¦
There is a bomb in Killiary,
Enriching thugs like Boeingā¦
There is a bomb in Killiary,
Women and children die
There is a bomb in Killiary,
To bleed people dryā¦
āCause she can lie like Cheney,
and she can kill like Calleyā
You wouldnāt want to meet her
At midnight in the alleyā¦
(Repeat 1x every 4 years)
Based on Bob Dylanās āJust Like A Womanā and the
Traditional āBalm In Gilead,ā Nina Simoneās versions
Raymond Nat Turner Ā© 2016 All Rights Reserved
Assata Shakur wrote the introduction and this poem for the 1990 book Hauling Up the Morning: writings & art by political prisoners and prisoners of war in the U.S.
They called Assata Shakur a fugitive; we claim her as a compass. Her work and her words will continue to chart the path toward our liberation.
The empire has a new plan for Haiti, a return to military occupation dressed up as humanitarianism. Like past occupations, it will only increase the suffering of Haiti's people.
While Gaza burns, a collaborationist class is being handed the keys to a prison and calling it a state, all in service to western imperialism.
Western nations complicit in occupation and genocide offer a fig leaf of sovereignty by recognizing a Palestinian state that in reality would still be occupied.
