POEM: Wore On Tear

Awe bored
Fore the hole story
Yet an other
Titanic undertaking
Where the rats no
What we do knot
Yet to know a veil
Sew far
Out too see
When icy masses
And steel mete
Tearing at the sole
As sow many piles of ship
And the reckoning fore the break neck pays
Only too get
To the bottom
Of it happening
Water
You going
Too doo

This poem is about the futility of war, specifically the war on terror, particularly because war is terror.  War IS Terrorism ANTI-WAR BUTTONBy employing the epic metaphor of the sinking of the Titanic, the shock-and-awe, too-big-to-fail means of war give rise to that sinking feeling: “the rats no what we do knot.”  The victims of war cannot escape its hell.  And wee are all victims of war.  Waging War To Stop Terrorism Is Like Trying To Put Out A Fire With Gasoline ANTI-WAR BUTTONThe purveyors of war, the dressed to kill top dogs behind the lies, re-lie on the discomforting fact that shit floats.  Mean wile, they pollute the water hole.  Their steal is torn as under.  The bind leading the bind, sneakers and well-heeled soles vainly seek higher ground.  Their doom is spelled out in their code surroundings, more than they can bare.  Their polarized hearts and idol warship dictate their final wresting place.  Their dreams are anchored in a fathomless abyss.  And what lies, on the surface, exposing themselves: what is dung is dung.

The Real Terrorists Wear Suits and Ties POLITICAL BUTTONWar Is Terrorism With A Bigger Budget ANTI-WAR BUTTONOne Ship a Terrorist Whole Fleet an Emperor--ANTI-WAR QUOTE BUTTON

Terrorism War of Poor War Terrorism of Rich--ANTI-WAR QUOTE BUTTONWar Breeds Terrorism ANTI-WAR BUTTONTerrorism is what we call the violence of the weak, and we condemn it; war is what we call the violence of the strong, and we glorify it. Sydney J. Harris quote ANTI-WAR BUTTON

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PEACE POEM: Tiny Wholes Draining

They all believed
In peace
Except each peace was small enough
Too fit in the war machine
Hope draining through their tiny wholes
Of a grater good
Greasing sow
Called enemies
As awe weighs sum won ails
Pain the accost
Beyond belief

Peace n. the whole of life ANTI-WAR BUTTONWanting peace is popular to the point of madder of coarse.  Will we ever see peace in our life time?  Peace requires generous eyes portions, even beyond belief.  Our pocketbook-sized dreams and nation-sized military budgets makes war inevitable and leaves peace on the lamb.  To normal eyes bloodshed is bound up in an anemic faith.  Rather our own.  Not of others.  Lock, stock and barrel is an idol shrunken ahead, the stingiest spectacle of civilization.  With a lock on just US, stock propaganda, and democracy buy the barrel of a gun, we will bloody sea awe worthwhile slip through finger after finger after finger.  Such tiny wholes cannot bear the strain of won peace.  Let's Try Preemptive Peace PEACE BUTTONIs there ever enough daze on such a colander?  How can we de-sieve ourselves in such weighs?  The won in question might swallow a peace sow who among US?  Who might dare cull out the cogs in the war machine?  In our grief, we can only cry out, crap, there is no where else to go, as one side fits awe.  How due we face a peace too big to pass.  And there is no time to waste.  Wee are either all for one, or all for number two.  May we all rise above our tiny, foxy holes and take a vault of faith into a whole worthy of our humanity.

Practice Nonviolence PEACE BUTTONIf we were willing to pay the same price for peace that we pay for war, we'd have peace today PEACE BUTTONNothing enduring can be built on violence. Gandhi quote PEACE BUTTON

If you truly loved yourself, you could never hurt another --Buddha quote PEACE BUTTONOur enemies opinion of us comes closer to the truth than our own. Francois La Rochefoucauld quote PEACE BUTTONQuarrels would not last long if the fault were only on one side. Francois de La Rochefoucauld quote PEACE BUTTON

You will not enter paradise until you have faith, and you will not complete your faith until you love one another. Muhammad quote PEACE BUTTONTransforming hatred of the enemy into compassion lies at the core of all religions. Sister Helen Prejean quote PEACE BUTTONPeace hath higher tests of manhood than battle ever knew. John Greenleaf Whittier quote PEACE BUTTON

Violence - The Cause and Solution to All of Our Problems PEACE BUTTONWar Is A Failure of Imagination ANTI-WAR BUTTONgot militarism? PEACE BUTTON

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POEM: Mirror Winning In a Close Shave

That mine-blowing moment finally came
Where he saw his enemy
Face to efface
That fateful mourning
Infinitely more dangerous
And dreadfully more thorny
Than blood drawn in a close shave
Like a glance to the heart
None other
Then his own
Awe creation in a singular drop
An art rendering
Sow profoundly more
Than mirror winning

This poem reflects quiet literally those moments of epiphany when we see ourselves and our enemy as one.  I am deeply intrigued by the psychological truth of projection, seeing the world as we are rather than simply as the world happens to be.  The face of the enemy frightens me only when I see how much it resembles mine. Stanislaw J. Lec quote PEACE BUTTONThis egocentric lens distorts larger truths but can serve as a powerful tool for self-discovery.  Focusing on one’s self as an instrument of perception can offer valuable incites into how we navigate the world, often through a fun house mirror or speculative shadowy glances.  Such reflection can be mighty humbling.  I have been struck often enough by the philosophical and cosmological truth that wee are won by recognizing the sundry losses and fallings short that we each experience and bring to the world.  I have found that reflecting on the oneness of humanity and creation has led me to be a better person in my peace of the whirled.  Plus, the deep satisfaction of the experience of one has proven to me sow profoundly more than mirror winning.  May you find countless moments that help you transcend mine-blowing ours.

POEM: Commander-in-chief

Just
Say it
Three times fast
He/she/it
Commander-in-chief
Presiding over
No unwounded soldiers
As sum kind
Of used scars salesman
Master of what we auto do
Protector of awe we car about
As if
Some amored vehicle
Good grief
Shock and all
Giving won’s right harm
As pumped up append age
And sport scar
As buy gone youth
The fodder of proclamations
And canonizing
A bout
How offal sorry
Know longer jumping
Through hooplas
Green to pain for grave deeds
As herein now
Head stoned
Or even
Missing inaction
That piece that passes
Awe
Under standing
An immeasurable ruler
Of the highest
Nay heavenly
Rank

Wars Don't Kill People Presidents Do--ANTI-WAR BUTTONOwed to the Commander-in-chief.  He/she/it.  Weather a man, a woman, or merely a cog in the office of the President, war is hell.  All else is propaganda.  The commander-in-chief serves as the high priest of nationalism, offering up blood and idol words, mocking the sovereign goodness of God.  Selling evil as necessary is affront enough to a loving God.  GOD: The Mother Of All Soldiers (and civilians) PEACE BUTTONOverselling military service as a sacred duty cements our feat in an ocean of hurt.  Trust in the power of war, military might, is the fodder of much of the Old Testament.  This is nothing new.  However, the power and workings of God are ever anew.  There was a time when people believed that he earth was flat.  There was a time when people believed that monarchy, the rule of royal elites, was an absolute and unchangeable reality.  I DON'T ALWAYS KILL PEOPLE, BUT WHEN I DO, I WRAP IT IN MY HIGHEST IDEALS ANTI-WAR BUTTONThere was a time when people accepted slavery as a normal, desirable, even God-sanctioned, fact of life.  God created us free.  Free to do evil.  Free to do good.  We don’t need to kill to be free.  We may need to kill to mold creation into our image, of a world free for those closest to us, and a world of shit for those far from us.  We worship a god chopped up into little peaces, and we have the body parts to prove it.  May we cast off the vicious cycles of violence and war, and dedicate, even sacrifice, our lives for a world where one side fits all.  This is awe that God asks of US.  Make it sow.

Anything War Can Do Peace Can Do Better PEACE BUTTON If we were willing to pay the same price for peace that we pay for war, we'd have peace today PEACE BUTTONI Want You To Work for Peace [Uncle Sam] PEACE BUTTON

Our Grief Is Not A Cry For War PEACE BUTTONPACIFIST - Someone With The Nutty Idea That Killing People Is Bad PEACE BUTTONNothing enduring can be built on violence. Gandhi quote PEACE BUTTON BUTTONS-Peace-Q-NECB

Peace hath higher tests of manhood than battle ever knew. John Greenleaf Whittier quote PEACE BUTTONWeapons are like money; no one knows the meaning of enough. Martin Amis quote PEACE BUTTONSupport As Few Troops As Possible PEACE BUTTON

Violence - The Cause and Solution to All of Our Problems PEACE BUTTONYou Can Bomb The World To Pieces But You Can't Bomb It To Peace PEACE BUTTONgot militarism? PEACE BUTTON

I Support Everyone's Troops [Grim Reaper] ANTI-WAR BUTTONThere Is No Such Thing As An Unwounded Soldier ANTI-WAR BUTTONWAR - Your Doody To Humankind ANTI-WAR BUTTON

 When You Fight Evil With Evil, Evil Wins ANTI-WAR BUTTONStop Taking Life Literally--ANTI-WAR BUTTONPeace is Patriotic ANTI-WAR BUTTON

Truth is the First Casualty of War - Most of the Rest Are Civilians--ANTI-WAR BUTTON I Want You To Die a Meaningless Death To Sustain a Lifestyle that Will Ultimately Destroy the Earth-ANTI-WAR BUTTON

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POEM: Chains of Command

A juggernaut of freedom
He proudly served
As the weakest link
In the chain of command
And above
Awe
Due no harm

This poem juxtaposes the contrasting notions of freedom achieved through tight, even militaristic, ventures versus embodying freedom through default nonviolence and decentralized decision-making.  This is a command and control model versus fostering non-hierarchical and autonomous action.  Free Range Human Being - POLITICAL BUTTONMy experience is that directly practicing freedom and modeling this for others is the best means for manifesting increasing freedom.  Most succinctly put, this is a matter of means and ends — or rather a madder of means and end for the militarist or militant fundamentalist.  Subcontracting out freedom by wholesale consenting to others’ directives strikes me as a fundamental bastardization of freedom, particularly in large militaristic bureaucracies dedicated to the end of freedom — through ever-escalating means.  This is part and parcel to anarchist practice and philosophy.   Anarchists value direct, unmediated experience as both a way to live and learn, in contrast to imputing authority (via consent, and ultimately responsibility) into impersonal human organizations or other impersonal social arrangements.  Humanity is best experienced and served through smaller-scale, personal relationships, where the creative expressions of voluntary association and the personally uplifting experiences of mutual aid flourish.  The most common way people give up power is by thinking they don't have any -- Alice Walker quote POLITICAL BUTTONThe title of this poem, “Chains of command,”  is a pun — a double meaning — directly linking the shackling of freedom to systems of command and control.  Anarchists are renown for their issues with authority.  Less well appreciated is their fundamental critique of large, impersonal ventures which are viewed as the primary threat to our individual and collective humanity.  Anarchists seek to live on what is considered a human scale, which is necessarily smaller-scale — you can only relate personally to a finite number of people — and decentralized in that your set of relationships is an organic, even alive, entity that is guided by free association and mutual aid.  While anarchists are often portrayed as dangerous (perhaps to many forms of social order) and cavalier (perhaps revealing how foreboding freedom can be), there is a certain humility built into the anarchist worldview; there is a profound lack of ambition to control others (and be controlled) through the bulk of social arrangements in modern, so-called civilization.  The hubris necessary for violence is for me the best example.  Now, the brand of anarchist practice that I would ascribe to might be referred to as green anarchism, where violence is not understood to be an integral and necessary part of being human.  So-called black anarchists might view the violence inherent in the present social order as necessitating violent responses.  My view of freedom does not consider violence as necessary to being human, though the choice to be subject to violence as opposed to inflicting it remains a difficult and necessarily challenging one.  Clearly the current world order considers violence as merely the order of the day, a necessity, outside the realm of free choice. The last lines of the poem are a tribute to a pacifist green anarchism, and the deep humility it engenders: And above/Awe/Due no harm.  Of course, this is a take on the Hippocratic Oath: Above all, do no harm.  Plus, the “Due no harm” alludes to the vision of a world where the cycles of violence are broken and there is no longer the cruel divide of victim and perpetrator.  To go full circle, we must cast off the chains of command.  May you find the freedom and courage to pay the cost of boldly adding your beautiful human life to the mix of humanity where fear and misunderstandings and inertial privilege stand in the way of our individual and collective humanity.

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POEM: Another Martyr Bides The Dust

Another martyr bides the dust
And I was a stray
Beside myself
In the fog
Of yet another mourning
The missed over my heart
Feeling only that ephemeral beaten
The wait on my brain
Fueled into thinking of the dread only
And the little I no
Of what remains
As the truth is bared
In ash holes with names
Temping to soil
Won an other’s life work
Un-till arising from hour grounding
Ready ourselves for a human race
Wear blood is thicker then water
Tearing at our soles
And water thicker than heir
The salt of the earth bides
It’s time
Too clear the weigh
Of what thou dust
Ahead razed for awe
As be holding the sons rays
Bringing a bout of sunshine
An enduring lightness
Out shining
Any faux
How ever clan destine
In efface of such shrouding allowed
In countering any illicit clout
Ever looming
Whatever we’ve
Got together
With standing any in thralling strayin’
Rapping up awe that is frayed
For whatever may seam
Know longer

I wrote this poem a while back, but I’m publishing it now to honor the passing of Father Daniel Berrigan who died over the weekend at age 94.  Father Daniel Berrigan was the first priest arrested for peace and anti-war civil disobedience — or holy obedience.  As recounted in the National Catholic Review:

Berrigan undoubtedly stands among the most influential American Jesuits of the past century…

A literary giant in his own right, Berrigan was best known for his dramatic acts of civil disobedience against the Vietnam War and nuclear weapons. He burned draft files with homemade napalm and later hammered on nuclear weapons to enact the Isaiah prophecy to “beat swords into plowshares.” His actions challenged Americans and Catholics to reexamine their relationship with the state and reject militarism. He constantly asked himself and others: What does the Gospel demand of us?

“For me, Father Daniel Berrigan is Jesus as a poet,” Kurt Vonnegut wrote. “If this be heresy, make the most of it.”

“Dorothy Day taught me more than all the theologians,” Berrigan told The Nation in 2008. “She awakened me to connections I had not thought of or been instructed in—the equation of human misery and poverty with warmaking. She had a basic hope that God created the world with enough for everyone, but there was not enough for everyone and warmaking.”

In 1963, Berrigan embarked on a year of travel, spending time in France, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Rome, South Africa and the Soviet Union. He encountered despair among French Jesuits related to the situation of Indochina, as the United States ramped up military involvement in Vietnam.

Berrigan returned home in 1964 convinced that the war in Vietnam “could only grow worse.” So he began, he later wrote, “as loudly as I could, to say ‘no’ to the war…. There would be simply no turning back.”

He co-founded the Catholic Peace Fellowship and the interfaith group Clergy and Laity Concerned about Vietnam…

In Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander (1966), Merton described Berrigan as “an altogether winning and warm intelligence and a man who, I think, has more than anyone I have ever met the true wide-ranging and simple heart of the Jesuit: zeal, compassion, understanding, and uninhibited religious freedom. Just seeing him restores one’s hope in the Church.”

A dramatic year of assassinations and protests that shook the conscience of America, 1968 also proved to be a watershed year for Berrigan. In February, he flew to Hanoi, North Vietnam, with the historian Howard Zinn and assisted in the release of three captured U.S. pilots. On their first night in Hanoi, they awoke to an air-raid siren and U.S. bombs and had to find shelter.

As the United States continued to escalate the war, Berrigan worried that conventional protests had little chance of influencing government policy. His brother, Philip, then a Josephite priest, had already taken a much greater risk: In October 1967, he broke into a draft board office in Baltimore and poured blood on the draft files.

Undeterred at the looming legal consequences, Philip planned another draft board action and invited his younger brother to join him. Daniel agreed.

On May 17, 1968, the Berrigan brothers joined seven other Catholic peace activists in Catonsville, Md., where they took several hundreds of draft files from the local draft board and set them on fire in a nearby parking lot, using homemade napalm. Napalm is a flammable liquid that was used extensively by the United States in Vietnam.

Daniel said in a statement, “Our apologies, good friends, for the fracture of good order, the burning of paper instead of children, the angering of the orderlies in the front parlor of the charnel house. We could not, so help us God, do otherwise.”

Berrigan was tried and convicted for the action. When it came time for sentencing, however, he went underground and evaded the Federal Bureau of Investigation for four months.

“I knew I would be apprehended eventually,” he told America in an interview in 2009, “but I wanted to draw attention for as long as possible to the Vietnam War and to Nixon’s ordering military action in Cambodia.”

The F.B.I. finally apprehended him on Block Island, R.I., at the home of theologian William Stringfellow, in August 1970. He spent 18 months in Danbury federal prison, during which he and Philip appeared on the cover of Time magazine.

The brothers, lifelong recidivists, were far from finished.

Swords Into Plowshares, Isaiah 2:4 PEACE BUTTONOn Sept. 9, 1980, Daniel and Philip joined seven others in busting into the General Electric missile plant in King of Prussia, Pa., where they hammered on an unarmed nuclear weapon—the first Plowshares action. They faced 10 years in prison for the action but were sentenced to time served.

In his courtroom testimony at the Plowshares trial, Berrigan described his daily confrontation with death as he accompanied the dying at St. Rose Cancer Home in New York City. He said the Plowshares action was connected with this ministry of facing death and struggling against it. In 1984, he began working at St. Vincent’s Hospital, New York City, where he ministered to men and women with H.I.V.-AIDS.

“It’s terrible for me to live in a time where I have nothing to say to human beings except, ‘Stop killing,’” he explained at the Plowshares trial. “There are other beautiful things that I would love to be saying to people.”

In 1997 he was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize.

Berrigan’s later years were devoted to Scripture study, writing, giving retreats, correspondence with friends and admirers, mentorship of young Jesuits and peace activists, and being an uncle to two generations of Berrigans. He published several biblical commentaries that blended scholarship with pastoral reflection and poetic wit.

“Berrigan is evidently incapable of writing a prosaic sentence,” biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann wrote in a review of Berrigan’s Genesis (2006). “He imitates his creator with his generative word that calls forth linkages and incongruities and opens spaces that bewilder and dazzle and summon the reader.”

Even as an octogenarian, Berrigan continued to protest, turning his attention to the U.S. wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the prison in Guantánamo Bay and the Occupy Wall Street movement. Friends remember Berrigan as courageous and creative in love, a person of integrity who was willing to pay the price, a beacon of hope and a sensitive and caring friend.

While technically, Fr. Berrigan is not a martyr, he sacrificed much and lived courageously in the belly of the beast called the United States of America of which he called its militarism and imperialism.

While I wrote this poem with a male character, this may not be truly representative of the martyrs in this world.  Soon after penning this poem, Berta Caceres, whose activism reverberated around the world, was assassinated by a Honduran death squad, shot in her own home.  This poem is dedicated to her as well, a well of hope deeper than any dam corporations.  As recounted from Alternet:

On March 3, assassins entered the home of Berta Caceres, leader of Honduras’ environmental and indigenous movement. They shot her friend Gustavo Castro Soto, the director of Friends of the Earth Mexico. He pretended to be dead, and so is the only witness of what came next. The assassins found Berta Caceres in another room and shot her in the chest, the stomach and the arms. When the assassins left the house, Castro went to Berta Caceres, who died in his arms.

Investigation into the death of Berta Caceres is unlikely to be conducted with seriousness. The Honduran government suggested swiftly that it was likely that Castro had killed Berta Caceres and made false statements about assassins. That he had no motive to kill his friend and political ally seemed irrelevant. Castro has taken refuge in the Mexican embassy in Honduras’ capital, Tegucigalpa. He continues to fear for his life.

Berta Caceres led the Popular and Indigenous Organisations of Honduras (COPINH), one of the most important critics of government and corporate power in her country. Most recently, she and COPINH had taken a strong stand against the construction of the Agua Zarca dam on a river sacred to the indigenous Lenca community. This dam had occupied her work. It was not merely a fight against an energy company, it was a fight against the entire Honduran elite.

Desarrollos Energeticos, SA (DESA) is owned by the Atala family, whose most famous member is Camilo Atala, who heads Honduras’ largest bank, Banco Ficohsa. By all indications, the Atala family is very close to the government. When the military moved against the democratically elected government of Manuel Zelaya Rosales in 2009, the Atala family, among others, supported the coup with their means. They can cut all the flowers, but they can never stop the spring -- Pablo Neruda quote POLITICAL BUTTONThe Honduran sociologist Leticia Salomon listed this family among others as the enablers of the coup. They backed the conservative National Party, which now holds the reins of power alongside the military. Berta Caceres’ fight against the Agua Zarca dam, then, was not merely a fight against one dam. It was a battle against the entire Honduran oligarchy. Her assassination had, as her family contends, been long overdue.

May we be inspired and encouraged by the fearless lives of those who have gone before us.

POEM: Wee Civil Lies: They Brutalize

We are prone
Too civil lies
The most savage saving
Buy brutal lies
As assuredly
As they had
Been stood up
Just the same
For their own
Good
Won morality for us
None for them
Hidden as mirror
Human eyes
Unsettling
The score
One love

Violence - The Cause and Solution to All of Our Problems PEACE BUTTONThis poem is about the violence we unleash in the name of the state and nationalism against stateless violence that is often referred to as terrorism.  War is terrorism with a bigger budget.  War on terrorism is a shock and awe full escalation of violence seeking to end violence with more violence.  This poem is about the profound egocentrism that is scaled up to nationalism and exclusivist patriotism.  When we add our ignorance of “foreign” humans to the crucible of our own fears, we conjure demons.  A nation of partisans is blind to humanity.

The man who speaks of the enemy is the enemy himself. Bertolt Brecht quote PEACE BUTTONWe prefer to believe that humans living in other nations and cultures somehow operate disconnected, even psychotically, from a cause-and-effect world.  “They” are aliens, or more literally, not human.  Their grievous experiences are viewed as illegitimate, or simply self-inflicted (unlike ours).  Justice becomes just US.  We are good; they are evil.  We go long with the whores of war in a costly and feudal tempt to psychologically project our own evil onto distant others and militarily project our own lust for power and, of coarse, its ostensible security.  Our “way of life” is inescapably intertwined with our “way of death.”  This ever-popular though pathetic avoidance of assenting to the oneness of humanity is an epic failure to own up to the costs of love.  Hate and fear are cheaper, like that cheap plastic crap from China.  Why Is It Always US versus Them PEACE BUTTONWithout disposable people, the gears of imperialism and capitalism would grind to a halt in a heart-wrenching imperative to honor every human right.  A so-called civilization built around planned obsolescence and cancerous growth rejects, not surprisingly, the priceless sanctity of every human life which would mandate a firewall to the carnage of war.  Human rights would go one better than human wrongs.  But at what accost?  Probably much less than war, but the distribution of pain would be much different.  By attending to our own shadow side, we preempt extracting the cost of our own evil from others.  Anything War Can Do Peace Can Do Better PEACE BUTTONOf course, this costs us — please note that morality is incurring a cost of one’s own, thereby demarcating what we value.  Further, a healthy human being replete with love goes even further to absorb some of humanity’s cost from less healthy humans, thereby incarnating the example of love.  This is the opposite of war, and, ultimately, the only scoring that matters.  Love perpetually extends humanity to each and every human, not amputating human rights to those who don’t happen to be at hand.  For badder or worse, love will piss off virtually every in-group of which you are a part.  In-group members reliably err on their own privilege over out-group members.  Human equality is necessarily revolutionary.  	 If we were willing to pay the same price for peace that we pay for war, we'd have peace today PEACE BUTTONLove and justice kiss when we sacrifice in-group privilege toward securing human rights for all.

May we know the score that is love, demolishing war-making.

POEM: Nazi Murder Trials, 1963

Courting the truth
Their stories were tolled
Not simply for just us
But for awe of them
Beyond monumental
To re-member
A broken body politic

http://toppun.com/Political/A-Nation-of-Sheep-Soon-Beget-a-Government-of-Wolves-Edward-R-Murrow-Quote.gifThis poem was inspired by the 2015 German movie, Labyrinth of Lies, about a young and idealistic public prosecutor in post World War II Germany learning about Nazi war crimes and their endemic impunity.  As one reviewer summarizes:

“Powerful and haunting, Labyrinth of Lies turns over a rock and watches the vermin crawl out in a disturbing and rarely talked about footnote to German (and world) history. The rock is Germany’s massive effort to forget the past under National Socialism and move on. Real Eyes, Realize, Real Lies - POLITICAL BUTTONThe rats are the former Nazis who, after the war, found acceptance and protection in comfortable positions of importance in the German government at a time when the country was on its way to reconstruction and cultural renaissance. The movie centers on the handful of brave men and women who dedicated themselves to an uncompromising search for the truth in the investigation that led to the Auschwitz trials from 1963 to 1965 in which Germans prosecuted Germans at last. It’s one of the most important and revelatory films of the year.”

got fascism? POLITICAL BUTTONThe first line in this poem, Courting the truth, has multiple references and meanings.  The movie is a prosecutorial investigation leading to the 1963 trial of Nazi war criminals for murder (which doesn’t have a statute of limitations) which was the largest trial in German history and considered the pivotal event in Germany coming to terms with its haunting past of Hitler’s reign and the tsunami of obedience by the overwhelming proportion of German citizens.  “Courting” refers to the culminating courtroom drama which the story preludes.  “Courting” also refers to the courtship of the truth and of the love affair portrayed in the movie between the lead character, the lead prosecutor, and his wife-to-be.  The courtship of the truth, which reveals reams of human ugliness, stands in sharp contrast to the love affair.  Or does it?  The love affair is romantic, even magical, until in drunken despair the prosecutor confronts his wife with the reality of her own drunken father who fought with the Nazis in Poland: “Ask him why he drinks?”  She tells her husband to get out, for good.  The allusion is that she continues in denial about her father.  The full-circle carnage is complete as the drunken despair was triggered by the idealistic prosecutor’s daring to look at his own father’s war records, only to find out that he was a member of the Nazi Party.  Resistance Trumps Fascism [Royal Flush] POLITICAL BUTTONThe literal image of his father, a picture inscribed to him with the implied command, “Always do the right thing,” was now only an idol hypocrisy.  The merciless truth of endemic Nazi collaboration couldn’t be clearer.  Or could it?  Among other revelations, he learns that the activist journalistic pushing for the Auschwitz investigation was, in fact, a guard at Auschwitz, making a somewhat-late and partially-muddled attempt at amends for his own presumed war crimes.  Courting the truth offers unsatisfying justice as the original horrific injustices and decimation of humanity could never be fully restored.

The second line in the poem, Their stories were tolled, is the best answer offered to such overwhelming tragedy and criminality.  Simply to have some of the countless untold stories of uncounted victims was the only path to honor the murdered and begin the healing of a war-ravaged nation.  The damning awe of the truth cannot be successfully covered up by however neat or sterilizing monuments over which the dead are encrypted from the light of day.  The terrible truth must be tolled — exacting unpayable pries.  Good People Disobey Bad Laws POLITICAL BUTTONThe river of denial must give weigh to the river of blood teeming underneath “A broken body politic.”  That a broken body politic can re-member at all is the only redemption realizable.

May we never forget the lessens of war and its many patriotic and cowardly crimes against humanity.  May we have the necessary courage and bounding love for humanity to empower us to defeat the scourges of nationalism and that bastard of patriotism: fascism.

POEM: Loving Your Enemas

The legal lists
Were longing
With who hurt
And who not heard
Attesting too
How much they love
They’re enemas
Only wading
For sue a side
As eminent just us
And inevitably knot
Passing the smell test

Look Ma No Arms (Peace Dove picture)--FUNNY PEACE BUTTONThis is a poem about the intractable mess of trying to love your enemies and kill them as well.  American Christianity generally considers pacifism a quaint way of life, tolerable in direct proportion to its relegation from the halls of power in church and state.  American Christianity has bought rather wholesale into war as a practical necessity — the necessity of evil, that is.  Wince again, the necessity defense is the greatest offense.  Is the oneness of humanity to be cleaved by the body of Christ?  For badder or worse, the inconvenient truth of dying for one’s enemy reliably leaves American Christians more than cross.  Object of War Not to Die for Your Country But Make Other Bastard Die for His--ANTI-WAR QUOTE BUTTONAt best, nationalism, and at its worst, imperialism, become the legal ism for such a knotty morality.  And if any prophets may bedevil such an undertaking, their fate is bound in the hands of a certain high priest, possessed buy inescapable logic: “You know nothing at all!  You do not realize that it is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish.” (John 11:51)  Yep, to gain the world and halve the whole world parish.  American Christians all to often worship a bastard son, pax Americana, a modern day roamin’ umpire, overruling with just US, and as per fuming so extravagantly that we don’t even realize we fail the smell test.

May awe of US unearth humility enough to execute amorality, in a creation fit for all — for Christ’s sake!

 	 I'm not a pacifist. I'm not that brave. Phil Donahue quote PEACE T-SHIRTPeace - Won for All - Peace Dove-PEACE BUTTON

Check out more pacifism designs.

POEM: Peppered With Violence

Bland and tasteless souls
Often pepper with violence
The salt of the earth
Writing a vicious cycle
In rehashed seasonings
Winners of discontent
The Fall’s harvest
Yet even sow
Hope springing eternal
And summers of love
As have know choice
In what sow ever fallowing

Spring is a season of hope.  It may very well be no accident that the Easter season coincides with Spring.  Spring is a profoundly palpable metaphor for resurrection in nature and inhuman experience a cross human history.  That Spring follows Winter with perennial reliability seeds hope amidst the fallow seasons of human life and those cold spells witch bedevil the human heart from claiming its natural endowment of patience, hope, and love.  Awe of the seasons of human life must navigate the epic realities of violence, proffered as both the cause and solution to all of our problems.  Violence Will Not Silence Us POLITICAL BUTTONLife coexists with death and death coexists with life in the undulating pulse of human experience.  The fear, even hatred, of death presence us too hour rationalization of lethal violence as the irreconcilable solution to an inescapable dilemma.  Unfortunately, such fear and hatred, blithely beating the conundrum of war and repression, is incongruous with the true pulse of life.  Winter happens.  And sow does Spring.  The eternal question posed is weather we cast our lot with Spring or Winter.  To wear due wee target our lives?  Untoward the tender shoot, or effacing bearing lives?  Either weigh, Spring shows up.  Due we poor our lives in too the riches of this earth, even if not living to seed what happens, daring that life will cede us?  The quest in is up to us.  Will we lift more than a single finger to the won-ness of humanity?  I, for one, will root for all of my tender buds to emerge from winter.

POEM: Until Hell Frees Us

Be very frayed
Terrorism comes
From know where
Deep in the recesses
Of kindergarten bullying
Capital vocations
And martial lawlessness
Awe rapped up in won’s highest I deal
Those unspeakable prophets
In security
Detained indefinitely
Until hell frees us
Ever more reckoning
The other
Who war like
A mirror reflection
Knot of won self
But a puerile of grate wisdom
Selling all
Having bought it
With bigger barns
Taking life easy

This is my third published poem in a row on the theme of terrorism.  You might say that I’m on a role in combating hypocritical fearmongering and conveniently overlooked accountability for vicious cycles of violence plaguing our whirled.  War: What Are We Frayed of?  ANTI-WAR BUTTONThe prison of necessary evil is the bedrock upon which militarism is built.  Of coarse, the jailbirds sing oft-repeated jingles of in-group unmistakable righteousness and the presumptively incomprehensible evil descending upon their already worrisome state.  Fear is the only effective tool to fuel such jingoism and blind obedience to longstanding systems of oppression that conveniently turn justice into just us.  That such fear can swirl in a sea of privilege is the fundamental disconnect that makes chronic injustice passable.  Pointing out profound privilege and hyperbolic fears is heretical to the god of war.  Not surprisingly, the god of war, Nike, is well characterized by the slogan, “Just do it!” which has a singular ring to rule all idioms.  The inescapable prison of the permanent war on terrorism, with violence begetting violence begetting violence, based on the damnable logic of necessary evil, can only end with the absurdity “When hell frees us.” As Dante, in Inferno, signaled in his sign at the entrance of hell, “Abandon all hope, you who enter here.”  How can we free ourselves from this parent prison of necessary evil that infantilizes our moral development, and stultifies children of God into spawn of the devil?  How burden some is at the crux of this issue.  What must we sacrifice?  What must we cede?  What must we feed?

Bringing about peace and justice to the whirled is formidable work that takes a lot of time to cede itself and seed itself.  In the mean time, there is a need to endure sum violence, as an existing reality with its own inertia.  This brakes the cycle of violence.  As well, we need to address the causes and grievances powering violence and dis-empowering nonviolence.  This is required to prevent violence from seeding itself, and to feed nonviolent alternatives.  This breaks the cycle of violence.  This is not easy.

That violence can save us is as owed as life and death itself.  The myth of redemptive violence is deep-seated in human history and culture.  Walter Wink put it best: “The myth of redemptive violence is the simplest, laziest, most exciting, uncomplicated, irrational, and primitive depiction of evil the world has even known.”

This poem ends with a tip of the hat to two of Jesus’ parables.  First, the parable of the rich fool (Luke 12:13-21) who has so much that he tears down his barns to build even bigger barns, only to have his “eat, drink, and be merry” life on earth end precipitously.  Next, the parable of the hidden treasure, a pearl of great value, for which we will trade all we possess for it (Mathew 13:44-45).  That pearl of great price is peace.  May each of us be barnstormers for peace, not barn-storers fore violence.

Our lives can begin the long weigh to peace when we get beyond the myth of redemptive violence.  May we each critically examine our own privilege and personal hurts that prompt us to take the low road of violence.  May we each meditate and daily work on awe the things that make for peace and a whole, new world.

POEM: A Brother Lying

Prey fore the dead
In the name of Jesus
In resurrection of those soully asleep
Getting a phallus rise
Out of Christianity
That is, US
More sow then radical Islam
In violate fundamental lists
Dissembling faith, hope, and love
As our trinity project
Our won God triumph a writ
With a Cain due attitude
Over awe that is Abel
To spill the good word
Buy blood crying out
Too me
From the ground
A brother lying
Knot knowing
The hollowed meaning
Of I am
One’s keeper

I often write about stuff triggered when I hear the news.  I listen faithfully to Democracy Now on weekdays.  It’s not unusual to stop in the middle of a show, or even a news story, to write a poem about something that touched me: a phrase worthy of seeding a poem, an issue baffling human kind, or simply a heartfelt emotion.

The literal life and death issues of war and peace, militarism and pacifism, have been close to my heart my whole adult life.  The latest flavor of this is the unending war on terrorism, which easily commiserates with virulent patriotism, nasty nationalism, presumptive racism, and irreconcilable religious bigotries.  Our unconscious privilege, convenient distance, and well-earned ignorance of world affairs is complicit with any easy alliance of violence as a lazy alternative to costly self-sacrifice as the true weigh of incarnating justice for all.  Nominal Christianity and its state-sponsored sheep, hawk a cheap grace bound only by an unequaled military budget and unquestioned reverence for a mercenary class.

I have a more generous perception of a frightened citizenry in deed resorting to violence in an increasingly secular, postmodern worldview.  Violence seems inevitable, certainly unendurable, without a resilient weigh to measure the sacred worth of an other, a brother human, who peers threatening.  I have a less generous view of normalizing violence by those aspiring to be religious, deeply commuted to any of the major faith-based worldviews represented by the world’s religions.  In the case of the U.S., the purported rock of our moral lives is Christianity.  I assert that an honest appraisal of American Christianity regarding its world military domination is that it is ruggedly cross.  War and Peace - What Would Jesus Do? FUNNY PEACE BUTTONAmerican Christians quiet reliably in efface of violence, instead of bearing the rugged cross, demand the blood sacrifice of “others” as their savior.  To this I can only say, “Jesus Christ!”  Whose image due we bear?!  What about state violence has to do with the heart, life and death of Jesus — other than the fact that it was state violence that executed Jesus.

To add insult to injury, the budget-sized war we christen as terrorism, we blame on Muslims, or worse yet, on the sacred tenets of Islam.  The real competition may be about who has the shallowest understanding of their religion: nominal Muslim terrorists or nominal Christian war apologists.  I strongly suspect that the farces of Christianity have killed more people than the farces of Islam.  Regardless, the age-old story of Cain and Abel, shared in the sacred texts of both Christianity and Islam, plays out over and over: brother kills brother and denies the essential nature of their kin relationship and how family should care for one another.  May people of faith lead the way in ending violence between all peoples.  This goes triple for “People of The Book” (Jews, Christians, and Muslims).

Browse anti-terrorism designs.

Is Killing In The Name Of The Prophet Worse Than Killing In The Name Of Profit? ANTI-WAR BUTTONTerrorism War of Poor War Terrorism of Rich--ANTI-WAR QUOTE BUTTONWar Is Terrorism With A Bigger Budget ANTI-WAR BUTTON

 

POEM: Lamenting Violins

Wince agin
Their is a terror
In the fabric of our lies
Buy and buy
An other
A tact
Against our weigh of life
As if
Versus from the Koran
As mirror dogmas eating dogmas
And due what
We no best
Selling sects
For a faction of the true accost
As so so frayed
To efface the music
As lamenting violins
Playing well on the civilized aside of the border
Though knot so much on the other

Ending Poverty: Anti-Terrorism that Works - POLITICAL BUTTONI just wrote this poem in the wake of another terrorist attack and the ongoing repose of colonial rule.  Is terrorism some kind of wake up call?  That is, to our highest hopes and ideals rather than our lowest, most base instincts. Terrorism may be likened to hating the alarm clock but loving the wages from the work of imperialism.  The alarm clock is part and parcel to the work necessary to grimly reap the wages of sin.  In this case, imperial power is simply the ability to make the wages of sin somebody else’s death, not one’s own.  Will men and women of good will tolerate this?  Ask not for whom the alarm clock wrings, it wrings for ewe.  Human Rights: Anti-Terrorism that Works--POLITICAL BUTTONThose living in so-called civilized nations pretend that it is they who value human life, yet, how many Americans feel comfortable, even giddily patriotic, to kill ten, a hundred, or a thousand “others” to save a singular American life?  This commonplace logic is like water to fish.  In the real whirled, it is like blood to the world’s peoples.  May we not be swept away in hour fear and lifelong privilege.  Wake up!  There is much more than first meets the eye in a world of just us.Justice for All: Anti-Terrorism that Works--POLITICAL BUTTON

 	 Religious Tolerance: Anti-Terrorism that Works--POLITICAL BUTTON

POEM: A World Without Boarders

Mother earth bids us
What rend must we pay
For such fear in dwelling
In apprehending tenets
In discriminating borne
Giving no quarter
To mother and child
And presumed fodder
Taking the place
Of wear every won re-sides
Drawing lyin’s in the sand
And hiking up shields of water
In a tsunami of divine just us
As fences of steal
Wherever we land
Keeping out nothing worth wile
As per sever demeanor
From our guarded kind
As all is wall
In the confines of what is ours a loan
Yet in efface of
The largesse attract of common ground
Enjoining to gather
What is the lease we can do
Inter or gate
Only wanton to ax
How to occupy that territory sow dear
Between haves and halves not
As humanity cleaves
To that intrepid hope
Of a world without boarders
In habit awe
As kin to won sky
Our only limit

This poem addresses the theme of borders and the human propensity to divide us up into cliques, clans, classes, and territories.  Such divisions are often to the detriment of the common good.  While often under the guise of security, such social stratifications unjust as often reinforce lazy conveniences and guarded advantages.  No Human Being is Illegal / No Ser Human Es Ilegal POLITICAL BUTTONIn this great nation of immigrants — and conquistadors to indigenous peoples — there has been much political rhetoric about building walls.  Xenophobia and scapegoating seem to have found more openly vulgar expressions in contemporary politics.  The peeling back of the veneer of civilization may simply be a necessary process to move from unconsciousness to consciousness of institutionalized racism, first-worldism, the seeming necessity of permanent war, and xenophobic fears of all sorts.  As our ways of life reveal themselves as ways of death, the choice for life becomes more clear — perhaps not any easier, but clearer.  This poem begins with the context of Mother Earth and human mother and child.  We are all children of Mother Earth, who only considers walls and borders as scars on her beauty.  Each of us is a child, daughter or son.  We are all brothers and sisters, cousins and kin.  We are one humanity.  We either realize that blood is thicker than water or our water will be thickened with blood.  We are all boarders on planet earth.  Activism Is My Rent For Living On This Planet -- Alice Walker quote POLITICAL BUTTONNo human being is illegal.  Nation states only deserve to exist inasmuch as they serve humanity and Mother Earth.  Without such stewardship, we just might find out the hard weigh what a world without boarders looks like.  May we rekindle a deep affection and connection to awe of our sisters and brothers near and far, for the healing of the world.

FREE CHRISTMAS POSTER: Homeless Refugee Nativity

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…with all of those homeless Middle Eastern families.  This free poster offers my take on the hypocrisy of Christians in a co-called “Christian” nation worshiping xenophobia and fear rather than the radical hospitality and unconditional love that Jesus modeled from his birth.  The widespread and sniveling calls to limit refugee immigration and brand all Muslims as a threat to national security is a national shame and a profound shrinking of our humanity.

Homeless Refugee Nativity Christmas -- FREE POSTERPlease feel free to download and/or share widely this Christmas poster to help launch conversations about what it truly means to have love and compassion for all of our neighbors around the world.  We might want to stop arming and bombing the Middle East for a start…

FREE DOWNLOADABLE POSTER — VETERANS DAY: Let’s Leave War Behind Not Veterans

Here is my tribute to Veterans Day.  Please feel free to share this downloadable VETERANS DAY poster or meme.FREE POSTER: VETERANS DAY Let's Leave War Behind Not Veterans

This free downloadable poster is based on these designs, available in buttons, T-shirts, bumper stickers, laminated posters, and more:

Support Our Troops - Work for Peace - Justice for Veterans - Bring them Home NOW--PEACE BUTTON

Support As Few Troops As Possible PEACE BUTTON

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nothing enduring can be built on violence. Gandhi quote PEACE BUTTONPeace hath higher tests of manhood than battle ever knew. John Greenleaf Whittier quote PEACE BUTTON

PALESTINIAN JEW JESUS: Yahoo Netanyahu

This first in a potential series of Palestinian Jew Jesus comics was inspired by the latest insanity of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.  In his continuing gross caricature of Israeli domination over Palestinians, he one day claims that Palestine doesn’t even exist, then another day claims that Palestinians caused the Jewish holocaust in Nazi Germany.  In short, The United States needs to stop supporting and subsidizing such brutal insanity.  Palestinian Jew Jesus puts it even more succinctly:

Palestinian Jew Jesus: Yahoo Netanyahu

View all of my Israeli-Palestinian designs.

Justice For Palestine [Palestinian Flag] POLITICAL BUTTONOne Holocaust Does Not Deserve Another [Israeli, Palestinian flags] POLITICAL BUTTON

 

 

 

 

 

 

And if you can maintain a surreal sense of humor after the carnage of Israeli occupation and blithe U.S. support for anything Israel wants to do:

FREE PALESTINE* (*with the purchase of a 48 oz. drink) POLITICAL BUTTON

 

 

 

Obama: I Am The Bomb

As the world careens toward the increasingly surreal, we now officially live in a world where one Nobel Peace Prize winner, Barack Obama, has bombed another Nobel Prize winner, Doctors Without Borders.  I nominate Barack Obama as the worst Nobel Peace Prize winner ever.  I think the the Nobel Peace Prize committee should rescind its award, and, at least, add a proviso that any Nobel Peace Prize winner who violently attacks another Nobel peace prize winner will have their award rescinded.

Obama Nobel peace Prize Winner Bombs Nobel peace Prize winnerPlease feel free to widely share this graphic, which can also be printed out as a poster.

MLK I Have a Dream - Obama - I Have a Drone ANTI-WAR BUTTON

Here is my previous take on a juxtaposition of Nobel Peace Prize winners, Obama and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  Please join me in reminding Mr. Obama that we want our dreams to be realized, not our nightmares!

POEM: Signs of The Tines

At the White House speak easy
Blah blah blah blah blah blah
The media drinks it up
At a mine-blowingly vapid clip
In the mean time
On the plantation
Grounds to a halt
Surrounded by offense
In arose guardin’
At least since 1984
Black sheep a massing
Estate clearly
As to klan destined premises
And as such a tract
An overwhelming farce
Met with all arm
As privates in public places
And wile mill or tarry
As eventuality
Weather picked up for loitering
Or trashing national security
Hour constitutional is put down
And though wee are like
A communal terrain
Pigs offer another forum of public transportation
A signing
This won in the can
Matching our zeal to the maxim
In another banner day
For homeland security
Or whatever it scald
As free speech grows smolder
And another die cast
For the prints of darkness
Wielding a pitchfork for the signs of the tines
A tail never to be told

This is a poem about police and/or military — sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference these days — putting down a protest at the White House.  Typically, the corporate media give little coverage to such democracy taken into the hands of ruly citizens, and what coverage they give is often superficial and dismissive.  The demonstration in this poem has overtones of a Black Lives Matter protest, making it contemporary, but it could very well be most any protest in modern times at the White House.  The title of this poem, Signs of The Tines, has what may be an easily missed pun, referencing the tines of the devil’s pitchfork casting signs into a bonfire, which might very well be the preeminent renewable energy source in America.  Protest politics and direct nonviolent resistance has always forced America to confront a legal and political conundrum of law enforcement routinely violating constitutional rights, often under the pretext of national security.  Most any perceived threat to the state triggers an overreaction, even an existential crisis, from most any nationalist from right to left.  Exposing the naked sovereignty of the state, particularly when in moral bankruptcy, is one of the most useful effects resistance offers.  The veneer of civilization can be quickly peeled back to witness the assertion of brute force in the religion of nationalism and state sovereignty.  And for those of you who may dare to believe that we are a nation under God, think again.  I confronted this directly in my legal challenge to draft registration.  As a motion to dismiss based on draft registration offering no opportunity to indicate conscientious objector status, the federal judge rejected the motion citing a Supreme Court case from the 1930’s which stated that the federal government has the absolute power to conscript anyone in the United States, regardless of conscience or anything else.  Conscientious objector status is merely a historical and political concession which was literally referred to as “legislative grace.”  I must admit, in this decade-long resistance to forced military participation in Team America, this was the only thing that truly surprised me.  I, for one, am unwilling to concede absolute authority to any government.  I actually wasn’t even very excited about this motion for dismissal, but my pro bono lawyers wanted to test this legal argument.  Frankly, I wouldn’t have registered even had there been a way to meaningfully indicate conscientious objection.  I think I registered my objection quite meaningfully without their approval or feigned “grace.”  You might want to pay attention to the wizard behind the gracefully flowing curtain, dutifully colored, red, white, and blue…

POEM: Attorney General Edwin Meese III

I know of a man I never met
A foe of mine, I can only bet
A very close impersonal friend
To my unknown needs he’s supposed to tend
To rehabilitate me from what to what
Maybe he’s a pure-bred and I’m only a mutt
We make quite a pair
‘cept it’s me in the pound
Yet he’s always around
A thousand miles away
Yet I can hear his voice
“If charged you are guilty”
“If hungry it’s your choice”

I wrote this poem in 1987 while imprisoned for my epic failure to register for the military draft.  Below is a copy of the actual handwritten poem.  I had the original taped on my office wall near my desk for years.

Draft registration was reinstated by President Jimmy Carter as a response to the Russians invading Afghanistan.  Seems to me that invading Afghanistan would have been punishment enough.  We had the opportunity to learn such as lesson later — or not.  President Ronald Reagan, after breaking a campaign promise to abolish draft registration, continued it.  I was in the first batch of young men subject to this new law in 1980.  I spent the entire decade sparring with the world’s greatest military superpower, with a couple of years of probation and community service ending in 1989 — like I need the federal government to sentence me to community service!  Out of the millions of young men in violation of this Military Selective Service Act, less than a dozen were convicted of such flagrancy; all were public in their opposition.  Seems pretty pathetic for a so-called superpower.  I didn’t learn my lessen.

I feel no need for vindication, but I do feel like I have now lived through a full cycle of history, and history is on my side, if you believe in sides, that is.  While assuring my incarceration to make sure that I wasn’t around to not defend our homeland, the U.S. was training and equipping their version of freedom fighters, the likes of Osama bin Laden and the lesser known Frank N. Stein.

This poem is about President Ronald Reagan’s Attorney General, Edwin Meese III.  Though there was a lot of competition, Ed Meese was only clearly beat out as the most pathetic administration crony by James Watt, Secretary of the Department of Interior, which Mr. Watt, in his signature suicidal hatred of government, wanted to abolish; though it’s still not entirely clear whether it was the department or the environment he wanted to destroy.  Ed Meese was infamous for the two sayings recounted in the last two lines of my poem.  In an astounding disavowal of the U.S. Constitution, Mr. Meese, claimed that most suspects can be rightly assumed to be guilty.  Well, it’s not like he was the overseer of federal and constitutional law — sheesh!  The other statement, out of the jurisdiction of even his ignorance, was that if people are  hungry in America, it’s their choice.  When I heard this, I could have swore that his little round belly shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.  Well, OK, it wasn’t his belly full of jelly.

I’ve made my choice, and 28 years later I’m still hungry for justice…

Attorney General Ed Meese III POEM