Star-spangled False Flags

 

 

 

 

"Patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings.”  - Bob Dylan

 

from "the patriot wing" they sing a thing

we thought was patriotic but turns out

it's not but rot and a blot on our land

do you understand look it up it's not

read all the verses and notice the curses

the "white power" coerces the rascist

obverses sung behind bars drive-bys 

from cars or trucks flying false flags as

they snarl and scream the constant stream

of hate bound to negate their hope and fate

 it's too late the gate is locked it's blocked

supporters are leaving few are believing 

the cause is deceiving itself stop 

fooling yourself.

Eugenics.....for Trees!

 

Select the very best and kill the rest seems

at best a fascist test for those who attest 

to love the woodlands but should most likely

give it a rest, take some time to quiet the mind

sit with the trees and wait in time not fall back

to some kind of rewind and status quo bind

sit with the wood until understood future is

not the past but the last chance to get passed

old notions and assembled motions leading

forward to flooding oceans and tortured 

skies brought on by business-as-usual and

far too many lies

 

- d. o.

Despising nazis

 

I have spent my entire life despising nazis. I dislike them so much I refuse to capitalize the term. I am not religious but I do come from Saxon and Christian roots and have some German ancestors. None of that matters. I loathe nazis because of what they did during WWII, I loathe them because of the pure evil they either engaged in or allowed to take place. I am appalled that there were and still are active nazis in the United States today, that they have a home in the Republican Party that I refer to as the Repugnican Party. 

I was born between VE Day and VJ Day which makes me an old man. As a child, the postwar years gave me daily opportunities to be exposed to the recent war and its atrocities. It was everywhere. Today the so-called "Good War" is some vague event in the distant past for most people, yet an estimated 72–89 million people perished on this planet during that war. There is plenty of photographic evidence. A good many of those killed were innocent civilians. The nazis had everything to do with all that torture and pain. They deserve to be condemned now and into the future for their ideology of hatred and evil. 

Chances are good your grandparents were anti-fascists. That's what Antifa is. Far too many Repugs seem to roll the other way, pro-fascists, but most won't own up to it. They aren't fooling anybody and their days are numbered.

 

 

Unless

 

 

Unless Holidays come to an end

or nobody noticed to do it again or

it didn't show up on a screen or

overheard during coffee or tea or

walking to class or in a hurray or

whenever wherever whatever was

said,  a tree on Town Common is 

decidedly dead. Dead from decisions

made in haste without thought

convenience being what is usually

sought remember remember 17 

November a whole other life

not one alone unless someone

like you cares a whole lot, 

nothing is going to get better. 

It's not.

 

At the Academy Cafe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let’s go here for a bite
It looks so inviting until
You are seated by the din
And the bin but it’s ok
I believe I’ll start with the
Word salad, is that fresh?
Is it mixed? What about some
Dressing, something sweet?
Something to drink I think
Perhaps a Corpse Reviver as
A nod to the Bard, it’s hard
To understand with all
This racket, don’t you think?
Never mind the entree, OK?
I think perhaps another drink. 

It's the Trees

 

Those who embrace the Trees or

those who care not their presence

those humans willing to conquer in

their thinking Nature and her gifts

Her tests and disregard rooted in

another way beyond their sight or

seeming lack of comprehension

the Trees give to them anyway

elements of life and comfort

perhaps undeserved in cold or

summer's hot breath wilting all in

a world gone mad alienation from

this here Creation dwindling before

the very eyes beholding it as

She slips away today yesterday

and into the troubled future

Waiting for Emily

 

She seldom answers

my call returning to

where ever in her room

we wait for inspiration

I conerned about the nation

she taping the pencil

waiting for creation

perhaps she will call 

phantom phone down 

in the hall we will

second guess verses 

or not, in celestial call

she failed to make reply

when I asked about why