I can still trace,
Where his hands were last night,
I can still picture,
His chest and how it felt,
I can still taste,
His *** growing in my mouth,
I can still feel,
His body perched up on me,
I can still recall,
His voice, grunting in pleasure.

But his face I can't remember,
Neither his name I could tell.

Lift up your eyes and see
You are correct to deeply fear.
Worse than all history
It’s gonna be a bad year.

The GOP has changed DC,
Now it stands for Demented Congressmen.
Federal Secretaries can barely spell!
It will take decades to fix this again.

Hide in your house and pray
Ignoring all the threatening signs.
Pay no attention to the news,
Everything will turn out just fine.

Who needs their civil rights?
Just pay your taxes and be quiet.
No one in Washington
Hears your opinion, they don’t buy it.

The whole show is bribes, so
If you’re a multi billionaire
And pay the right people,
Some one in Congress will care.

Remember the actual rules,
The important thing in politics
Is  stay in office for life
Even if they have to use tricks.

Being a statesman today
Doesn’t mean a thing any more
Because the voters
Don’t really care to keep score.

They raise lots of handy cash
And buy the most successful publicist
Then they have the people
Crushed in their grubby little fists.

There now is a guy in D.C.
Who thinks he is king there, you see.
He built a big list
And no one was missed
That he wants to throw into the sea.

He decided his kingdom should be
His kind of democracy;
Where we’ll do what he said
Or we’ll end up dead
And he can claim solidarity.

The guy is quite plainly eluded
He wants certain people excluded
He thinks we don’t see
His gross villainy;
The emperor is completely denuded.

He thinks our land is his plaything
He issues demands that are dismaying.
His delusions are obvious.
He’s out to ruin all of us.
It’s a dangerous game he is playing.

Some of us hope he gets locked up
And based on the plans he has hocked up
He reminds of a dumb *****
Who is surprised once more
When she finds out that she’s knocked up.

When I was a youngster
It was too easy to trust
Older now, I’m choosy
And I feel I must
Pay attention to what
Folks say and what they do
Those who would abuse me
Must prove themselves true.

As I grew I noticed
How much was said was false.
I started then to learn
I had to learn the calls
Of those who were being
Just socially polite
And those who were cheaters
I saw that was not right.

But even the most polite
Of carefully chosen untruth
Seemed a bit off kilter
To the a questioning youth.
I learned I should never
Admit a dress made girls fat.
And I learned one could not
Call someone’s kid a brat.

But I never have gotten over
The strong public insistence
That I ignore their crimes.
To that I still feel resistance.
So, I can’t agree with anyone
When voted into public office.
I find myself being very hard
When so many of them are pompous.

I know I will never agree
To hate people who are different.
I guess the day I was born
I didn’t come with that equipment,
And even though friends
And family sought to teach me
How to be a bigoted ****,
The lessons didn’t reach me.

I stole her story.
She did not consent
to have her soul
torn to two
spread across
this earthly crust
then rendered again
in paper pulp.

It was a **** of syllables.
I took her breathes.
I took her lips.
Writing all the words
she whispered with,
I took her dreams.
I took her stars.
I took her thoughts
as though they were mine.

I savagely plundered
what was beating under,
not with ****** depravity
but with the gravity
of her dark and painful reality.

I stole her story
as she stole the razor.
I took her last seconds
as she took the tightness
of her wet skin,
plunging metal in
and letting red clouds
swirl in smoking form
under the pressure
of waters warm.

As the weight of life
pulled her head under
and porcelain edges saw
slick streams of diluted life
run over both its sides,
I pictured her truth
in my mind.

A fiction of strange proportions,
Life’s moist abortion
made into a poem
by some idiot
who could not forget
the same dark wet
dreams of
a steaming bathtub death
he wanted for himself.

They listen to the ruses
Use them as excuses
For staying home and getting fat
They ***** because they’re poor
And never open the door
More than to let in the cat.

It’s a quiet existence
If you offer no resistance
When they take your rights away.
The feds commit crimes
But you get to work on time
And limp along with half your pay.

It’s a scary kind of game.
You say you know who to blame
Because you choose to ignore the facts.
You continue half blind;
You have made up your mind
No matter how the one you chose acts.

Regardless how we shout
You vote the other guy out
And leave the crooks to do their worst.
If you actually research
And quit quoting your church
You can make the right choice first.

Instead you and I suffer
And freedom stutters
Because of those who know little.
Then those who study
Get ******* by somebody
Who punishes right left and middle.

Because we are no longer
The wise, the good, the stronger
But the biggest bullies on the block.
We had things headed right
Then, in the middle of the night
You lazies hit liberty in the head with a rock.

Let us bend our minds
toward simpler times
and hail the coming
of an unexpected apocalypse

Limping toward the infinite
scattering thank yous
and blessings
like popcorn to the wind
a foolish man
am I

This life was supposed to be
different
a changing of the guard
But the guard stayed on
same old starched suits
same old
old

So how did I become
so young?
I woke just yesterday
to a sunrise stretched
like God's fresh linen
across the eastern sky
No idea how I got here

Every memory is dipped
from the well of time
and I draw that bucket well
and carefully

I taste the water
as a sacrament

The tick tock of time
is a goad
and  a constant reminder
that we must never forget
and never should fret

So drink deeply
and know the sacred
in every moment in time
and every moment
long gone from time.

It is a gift that you are given.

The Culture twists and shrieks, wracked by
violent spasms of regression, recoiling in
pain and terror, contracting inwards
like some giant spider god dying.

Maybe snake oil will
offer a cure.
Perhaps we can
purge the demons
by drilling the right
holes in the right
skulls.  We could try
electro-shocking our way
back to 'normal'.  We
might even rediscover
the benefits
of leeches.  

We're building walls
and burning bridges.
We're forgetting the
lessons we never quite
learned.  We're watching
ourselves watching ourselves
watching ourselves on
an endlessly repeating loop
of tiny glowing screens.  We
willingly downsize our
worlds until we have to make
ourselves smaller, just
so we can still fit.

The future is closer
than we realise.  It's just
not as big as we
thought it would be.