What did low Barr know?
Liars, liars your loaded dice/tilted table theater’s
on fire—
But prosecutors and gas-lighting lawyers concur on
Empire…
Questions are swirling in your gaseous Van Gough sky
senatorial cesspool, home of the bribe, land of the lie:
What did low Barr know and when did he know it?
who does Boss Tweet owe—and when does he owe it?
Why has a petite, pink-clad protester more arrests
on Capitalist Hill than the state made on 1/6?
Questions that must be put to your slimy bipartisan
Politics…
II.
I look at all the ugly people snarling and storming
Capitalist Hill like Louisville—or some “shit-hole”
country; And I can see clearly: music of shattering
glass military men love—its crunch beneath boots
slogging over chocolate cities; Flashbacks for “bad
hombres” urinating on bodies; cutting fingers off
for souvenirs; defecating on the Koran; raping women
and men wearing uniforms the same color as their own—
white supremacist death squads melting back into ICE,
‘black’ sites and Hood-ish bases bearing bloody names—
Back into prisons and patrol cars…
I look at all the ugly people snarling and storming
Capitalist Hill like Louisville—or some “shit-hole”
country; And I can see clearly: Clubber Williams
and Chokehold Johnson of the PBA;
Officers Rotten and McNasty of FOP flashing badges;
A machine gun-less Gloves Davis clone “boots on the
ground…” Not the first windows they’ve smashed or
doors they’ve kicked in …Flashbacks of ‘lighting up’
Families before ransacking/looting their homes—
before children Sandman mischief from their eyes…
I look at all the ugly people snarling and storming
Capitalist Hill like Louisville—or some “shit-hole”
country; And I can see clearly: monsters mutating
into men boarding planes before farmworkers, baby-
sitters, nurses and teachers— ‘Heroes’ empire lovers
go gaga over before football games; tripping over their
“Thank you” for your ‘services’ like tongue-tied teens…
I look at all the ugly people snarling and storming
Capitalist Hill like Louisville—or some “shit-hole”
country; And I can see clearly: Mad Mike morphing
back into misogynist manager in his ‘right to work’
state—weekend warrior tailgating for Amerikkka’s
Team—or the Patriots or Jets—one keg away from…
Lynch
Mob…
© 2021. 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 https://www.youtube.com/user/zigilow
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