Newspoem 19 March 2007


Aggressive gobbledygook blathers compassion's pretense.
Elitist snakeoil elixir a poisonous agenda to annihilate alternatives.
Richkids fuckup every budget they're handed, bailouts ubiquitous.
Details of decimals and design for the squalid underlings who labor to make
manifest their grand incoherences; sheep'll need an errant arrogant to follow.
Seduced cruelty clarifies uninviting complexities. Toadies and roadies,
the peace and democracy tour to Christen a steal-reinforced hierarchy
only whose architects must throne it. Every mad visionary an infant
incapable of empathizing, wailing, their new world walls out.
They drool contempt on us: the cooperators, debtpayers, weakkneed
sellouts lacking the tenacity to inherit fortunes.
If only everybody had the integrity to be born to your father
those whining perspirers would share in your anaesthetic grace.
I would vote for you if you would vote for us.
Yourtopian serpents make servants of our rival planners.

Bald globe whose irradiating arrogance has
deforested itself. Closed mind, nonporous skull
sealed against follicle. Dirty hitchhiker glides on
coattails, bleats drums, greasily begs for his portion.
Fucked mirror in which an old-money funnel inflates
a balloon man with hot arrogance, waving limbs, spitting
broken lines from a constipated, insincere grin. Dispensing
gold stars fabricated out of World Trade Center booty and
Baghdad museum plunder, affixed with sticky venom.
Grooming, typography, courtesy fester beneath a
selfish-important narrative, drinking Times ink, the black blood
of Judith Miller’s reptilian veins. Rapier spotlights parry
on the horizon. The I'm right is might is right subtext
encrusted with photo-op filigree, sandblasted thinktank newsspeak
crayon scrawl. Credibility on credit, cruelty borrowed against
future renown. The new freedom of don't object to hierarchy,
just to not being at the top of it. Repugnicans pad laurels
substituting for conservatism and compassion a splash of flashbulb.
Get big, clean cabinet, step on exfriends, pedestals for shoes. Mirrors
would traumatize them, best keep those eyes liquored over. I can't
understand you: when you insult me, take that silver spoon
out of your mouth. Glutton down our hospitality until you puke
pure whitehouse frosting. I bleed the last drop of you away.

Newspoetry at Spineless Books