Infector-in-Chief, Boss Tweet,
Refuses to mask his lie hole. He
insists on leaving out his snout—
Normally affixed to CEO posteriors.
He tests daily, garnering mostly
False negatives. Having no taste,
no smell, for bovine dung he
dishes out; he goes on about
the business of America—Business.
A walking WMD; were he, his handlers,
Henchmen and hangers-on a rock band
they’d rock the name: Boss Tweet and
The Virus-Spitters—or Boss Tweet and
The Infectors…
Questions for scientists and medical
Professionals: how huge has community
spread from weaponized lies been?
How many unsuspecting factory workers
fingered for photo-ops have been infected?
How many reporters—or stenographers—
have WMD ‘briefings’ tainted?
Questions for the People: How many more
Body bags must graft and greed fill?
How many more refrigerated trucks must
the plutocracy stuff with loved ones?
How many more mortuaries must he and his
Handlers overrun with coworkers?
How many more ‘civilian casualties’ must their
white phosphorus droplets cause? How much more
‘collateral damage’ must his depleted pretense do?
Just how many more lives must white lies—nuclear
Fraudulence cost?
Changing the name of their plane ain’t “regime change—”
Ain’t a “game-changer—” but Air Force One’s now: COVID-19…
© 2020. Raymond Nat Turner, The Town Crier. All Rights Reserved.
More Mengele Medicine
from Boss Tweet and the1%
“As to diseases, make a habit of two things —
to help, or at least, to do no harm.”
― Hippocrates
“It is very expensive to give bad medical care
to poor people in a rich country.”
― Paul Farmer
In the grand scheme of things,
neighboring redwoods stay
Humble at 500 ft. high.
Stars are still in the sky where
I left them following my morning
meditation. The Moon’s almost
as reliable as the Sun
keeping its appointments for eons;
And Gravity’s great absent the hype…
And to think a February football
game, pizza, dips and chips were
So important…
And months ago a city’s two great
basketball teams were the talk of the
towns. And it appeared as if the world
had ended in a helicopter crash.
Sales of a super-star’s sneakers shook
the earth—like rappers’ arrests—and
celebrities’ insanity. While the planet
seemed to revolve around
privileged’ people wrapped in smug shawls
of ‘whiteness,’ luxuriating in political comas…
Then ‘suddenly’ archaic capitalism erupted
into wild hair, red nose, big shoe blitzkrieg!
Freddo, STFU and let Tom talk-Mr. Clean—
Quackery;
Mad Mengele monkeyshine—WMD ‘briefings’
by Boss Tweet!
Time-killing tommyrot that
Killed co-workers, neighbors and loved ones.
Leaving bloodstains even bleach can’t breach…
Boss Tweet’s ‘briefings’ punctuate 1% Maria-
Katrina-Fend For Yourself—Home Remedies
for floods, hurricanes, earthquakes, wildfires—
Piled on pandemics of
Poverty, Hunger, Homelessness—War.
Death’s the best capitalism can offer…
Boss Tweet’s a smoke stack
spewing poisonous white clouds for
Corporate porkers pulling his slimy
strings.
He’s a foghorn farting Mien Kampf.
Murderous metaphors for
parched lips and throats; raw sewage
floating
on
ICE.
His concertina wire words
are copied from capital’s playbook
in 20 point type; translated in Scabies,
Lice, COVID-19 and Hunger’s Growl…
Boss Tweet’s a smokescreen
for sinister surgeons amputating
regulations; slashing safety nets
He’s misdirection for 1%
pickpockets plying their trade;
He’s a stink bomb for
Bipartisan bandits backing up
Brinks trucks and loading in
Anything not nailed down by
Resistance…
© 2020. Raymond Nat Turner, The Town Crier. All Rights Reserved.
BAR’s poet in residence Raymond Nat Turner is an accomplished performing artist. You can find much more of his work at http://upsurgejazz.com .
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