I'm Pulling Back on My Jabbing At Enemies
Politics is way beneath me these days. The ignorant, Confederate-minded, backward-thinking numbskulls currently in adorable rule of us weakling coward Americans are miles beneath me in a hell of their own creation---corporate creationism. We the People of the US are currently afraid of our own shadows. Everyone's a terrorist or a potential terrorist---and all Muslims are terrorists, of course. All thanks to that vote-stealing, lying, deceitful, sociopath, George W. "Preemptive Striking" Bush, that little vote-stealing prick who is now living the good life down in Dallas---plenty of bourbon and coke for him and plenty of high-grade pot for Pickles. What a life. And all at the taxpayers' expense. Nobody foreclosing on his Dallas home. Nobody foreclosing on his book-empty library. Nobody denying him or Pickles health care. Nobody cancelling his Presidential pay for the rest of his worthless life as a way for the backward-thinking Republicans to cut the "entitlement" budgets. Nobody is raiding his digs at night or no Dallas cops are stopping him and frisking him or no Dallas cops are shooting at G.W. when he's wearing his hoodie.
Me? Fuck all of that. I'm retreating back into my shell. I'm writing on a new novel. Leaving the American mythic false reality behind for my own fantasy and not that of Ayn Rand or Milton Friedman, those two jokers and deceivers. I'm basking in my own reality.
Of course I came out of my shell to yell it up for the Greeks. Finally tired of Germany-dominated Euro-Union loan sharking and IMF and World Bank imperialistic draconian demands on the Greek people, fuck the fact that their economic failure was brought on by the big global banks like Goldman Sachs, those pirate bastards, or as the new Minister of Finance of Greece, an Economist, by the bye, puts it, Greece was driven into bankruptcy by bankrupt banks and their derivative schemes.
We are supposed to believe the myth that crime does not pay. That is now bullshit as we look around at all these criminals getting richer and richer by the billions.
Butterflies and Pig Pens
In a hovering splash
Of vibrating color
Guided by instincts
It's an insect's
High-flown search
For perhaps a meal
Over the grunting
Hunger of hairy
Slopping monsters
But sadly
This controversial flutter
Reveals no
Seductive pollen, only
A strong whiff of degradation
And like a true monarch
It turns its naturally
Divine nose
Up at the reality below.
I'm wafting off to my fantasyland on the wings of a soured-stomached butterfly.
Of course, I know, like Huey Newton said before he was murdered, everything is politics even food.
thegrowlingwolf (writingpoetryagain)
for The Daily Growler
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