Fablespinners: Literature's Online Open Mic!

by Victor Om Shanti


I want to stand in the street
Screaming profanities at helmeted cops
Defending national policies I oppose.

I want to weep openly, unabashed,
In rippling warm sun,
gazing at Old Glory
Wafting in the breeze.

I want to sip mocchacinos under mindnumbing neon
Ensconced in Starbuck's sanitorii
To spill the latte of labrette pierced cafe revolutionaries
Playing verbal tennis across red-plaid table clothes
With a bottle of good Chianti shared by friends

We must settle tonight,
One way of the other,
"Social Security needs to be lock boxed"

I want to run bare-assed naked in the desert sun just for fun
While overhead voyeurs by satellite spy,
Then go by.

I want to handle snakes
During High Mass
Giving, all the while, praise to Satan
In the Church of the Open Society

I want to spread the gospel of God day and night
Blind to the evils that give me the right
Put Salvation Army icons on nuclear missiles
Then worry if my lawn's been converted to thistle.

Alone in my top-down rag-top Lex-Mercedes-Lamborghini
I want to tool down Wall Street
The envy of men,
Leered at by women

Recoil in horror at the oozing of blood
From grilled red meat

I want to openly distrust my government
And trust that my country will watch my back
I want to parade with pride
In gold lame dress
While Bible thumping
Decry a moral mess

I want to rub shoulders in the land of the brave
With decorated combat cowards
Where whenever is heard
A discouraging word
A government program is considered at right

I don't want to speak German or Japanese
On Massa's farm
Hands bloodied from sun to sun
Picking cotton, hoe'en fields

I don't want to worry
That the yellow star
On my tattered jacket
Might attract attention
That my papers aren't in order
Or live in barbed wire fortress
Because this week
My race is not in fashion.

I don't want to live within
A fascist monarchy
George Washington rowed
An icy river to escape

I'd rather have protection from government
Than buy it
I'd rather die free
Than live a safely cocooned slave

I want to suspect the press
Is government controlled
Not know it.

I want to sit and shit
At minimum wage
In the 104th floor stall worrying
If the baby has enough diapers,
Not that the fuselage of a 767
Will look badly reflected in the mirror
When I feel the catastrophe of six thousand world-class sisters and brothers
Native New Yorkers incinerated by sons of pig-fucked mothers
I want to say

America
Not war
America
God Bless
America
Not Just war
America
Infinite Vengeance?
Yes!
America
In the Deity's name.