Yankee Imperialism

Redemption Day

I have wept for those who suffer long. But how I weep for those who’ve gone into rooms of grief and questioned wrong.

But keep on killing! It is in the soul to feel such things.

But weak to watch without speaking!

Oh, what mercy sadness brings.

If god be willing. There is a train that is heading straight to heaven’s gate. And, on the way, child and man and woman wait, watch and wait…

For Redemption Day!

Fire rages in the streets and swallows everything it meets. It is just an image often seen on television.

Come leaders, come you women and men of great. Let us hear you pontificate! Your many virtues laid to waste. And, we are not listening! What do you have for us today? Throw us a bone but save the plate on why we waited ’til so late. Was there no oil to excavate? No riches in trade for the fate of every person who died in hate?
There is a train that is heading straight to heaven’s gate. And on the way, child and man and woman wait, watch and wait…

For Redemption Day.

It is buried in the countryside. It is exploding in the shells at night. It is everywhere a baby cries…

Freedom!

  • Johnny Cash/redemption day

If you follow the money and, the Untied States of America, will invade most anywhere!

Americans well-earned their reputation for “Yankee imperialism” through more than a century of military intervention in Latin America. Skeptics of Washington’s purported humanitarian intentions point to Venezuela’s 301 billion barrel oil reserves as a rich prize for American companies. https://www.cato.org/people/doug-bandow

In order to stay well oiled: Will America trade her pride of constitution…? Swapping it for her need to suffer nations?

Many Venezuelans can no longer afford beef or chicken. The government tried to make them eat rabbits. But no. Some invade zoos to carve up buffalo and horses. And many go hungry.
#dailymail.com

Secretary of State and later President John Quincy Adams appeared to foresee our world when he warned Americans not to go “abroad, in search of monsters to destroy” lest they risk their nation’s soul. The U.S. “might become the dictatress of the world” and “be no longer the ruler of her own spirit.” Which would be too high a price to pay.
https://www.cato.org/people/doug-bandow

Words and Willfulness by the Wayside

Need not dwell on all that has vanished to the wayside…

all the pokes and prods…

all the worries on the doorstep.

Words and willfulness that weigh on my features.

Pen and paper missteps etched in hollow bark meant to…undo.

A drumming beat…that is not quite thunder-like.

Rhythm’s noise now…an imperfect blue funk mixed with classic hues and purposeful refrain.

A tune not a one can claim.

Divergence’s influence…small tunnels from matter to the mane. 

firing at trees
I would imagine it is difficult to stare into the woods…to see only one tree.  But then again, an     un-examined life is no small feat.

Plastic Nation

On the turf, a coconut Slush puppy.

Receding from any new insults.

Melting with no specific rhythm…no sound.

Leaving in its aftermath…

100_1470summer’s last attempt of spreading debris at the base of a hump back tree.

Plastic Nation…this is it.

This is what we die for.

More, more, more.

 

Where Will Your Plastic Trash Go Now That China Doesn’t Want It?

 

 

Nature by Bianca Stone

Maybe humans are the failed A.I. of Nature.

Maybe Nature made something it thought would tend the garden.

Maybe Nature made something sexy, to watch clean the pools with long butterfly nets

and a sunburn-the retainers of Nature.

Now, mirror of mercury and Hell, that hot-red bomb in your mouth, that sweet battleground on your tongue-

it is the catastrophe of your mission.

The wealthy, with their outstanding educations and custom shoes, and empty apartments floating above like Glinda; the ballad of media, the intellectuals, almost shepherding evolution, falling asleep in their haunted paintings and unattainable poetry-all the dimensions of each person’s being, punk, restless in a loop.

Sometimes I want to be taken into nothingness.

I want to be burned with the gypsy moths and blindweed.

Run to exhaustion with the wildebeest.

I don’t want this phone, I want to kill God.

Maybe humans are the complex systems of a natural order that must build and destroy itself in perpetuity.

Blue chicory on the road saying, the end of summer in a sandstorm of our passing-they gyrate and smile-what of our little duties to the architect?

Our deep-red blood our lush tech-

Archangels limping into paradise.

to Abandon the Luxury

abstract 1

Looking well within the glass…my motives have not become clear.  My thoughts languishing in all the abstract.  Scents often replaced with sense.  

Reaching down to the bottom of a forbidden well.  I cannot abhor the green and their backs.  My thoughts have for the moment been more prudent…less abstract.

No matter the abandoned luxury…I find myself leering at the mechanical trinkets that detract.

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