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I video taped, as Team America fucked Allen Ginsberg
By JanedaPain
A poem created in retrospective to Allen Ginsberg's America. What would he have thought about America since his death? Penny Lane is gone, Boulder is not really 'hip' anymore, and politics are in the gutter during the election of 2008. Ginsberg would have been horrified, and disappointed, and he would have called to duty, every pot head capable of fighting the mediocrity, and impending doom of our disembodied nature. |
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I video taped, as Team America fucked Allen Ginsberg
by JanedaPain
America, is home of the Buffs, who Ruffies women during halftime.
America if I went to your game, I would wear a chastity belt and pasties.
America doesn’t see
McCain is like death warmed over, a day old Palin kill.
America we can’t go ‘trick or treating’ with toy guns after Columbine.
America, I can’t travel past the security gate with my buck knife after 9-11
we can’t move our lids through the puffers
seeking those bombs and anthrax for the 5 o’ clock news.
America can we tighten those pants on the lonely flight attendants budge
America I want porn on the back of their seats too
I will wait to ejaculate in the lavatory, when the fasten your seatbelt sign is turned
off.
America can u shove those numb chucks up her ass and twat
as easily as the torch she totes?
America can u remember the taste of day old cum, stuck to his cock
with the lingering of her pussy stench, dressing his skin like perfume?
America from my Grand-Mother’s bureau, where I found her vibrator and enema bag
I thought of how to create an American dream from
bottles of Old Spice and Passion in wake of my headache from
this American marketing nightmare, where brands supersede words and meaning.
America we are selling ourselves like the whores on Colfax and Sherman.
in T-shirts of Abercrombie and Fitch
America is but home to all us vermin.
squirming here at home, in our chains, America you’ve dried my veins.
and I’ve seen those bums drain theirs, a million times in corners along Broadway.
America you’ve tied me up again in my dress of red and blue.
America the ice has all melted and Mc Donald’s and Home Depot still spit
somehow we can’t get enough of this shit.
America I want to grow pot with your welfare
have LEAP pay for me to puff, fuck you and you government stuff.
America we are all Jon Bonnet and our daddies all have clubs.
America you kids sell dope in classrooms, on the cell phones you sold to them.
while DARE is a social nightmare, teaching our children to tell and not question
or maybe this was some sick and demented investment.
America our mothers are all on Prozac and Valium for being human, for being Women,
For not being the perfect woman, for being loathed in comparison to Barbie.
America are we here to fill the cattle cars waiting out side our cities?
America can you really tell me, what you are doing with your FEMA camps?
America my heals are digging into his head
he never should have said, those thing to her, or compromised her sexuality.
America home of the Brave, home of the 3.1 Trillion Dollar Insurance ‘Bail-out’ Scam.
why do we keep this perpetual cycle of shit going
why do we keep buying into these games
America I hate to say it, I don’t have any faith
and my vote won’t count anyway with electoral decay
the last was stolen, this one will likely never happen; I fear.
America there is no home of the free, we're only free to buy and say what you sold us?
I’m calling you out!
America, I can’t watch your syndicated news casts of Terrorism any longer
it makes me sick to see the logo’s blinking in the corner of the
scrolling bar which determines how far your stick goes up my ass.
America I can’t smoke enough dope to deal with you.
once I’m stoned I can eat your pop tarts and snickers, but not until sufficiently
medicated from the nonsense on the TV.
America our prisons will soon out number our schools
what are your rules, really I’m confused; or is it, we are all just used?
America the only Bush worth digging is my mothers pussy and even that’s stale with contented homogony.
America 9-11 was amazing in so many ways
It was the most profound guerrilla installation, movement ever executed by man it was the most profound statement since my death, I stood horrified and captivated with history, with conspiracy, so blatantly derived from the response to our petrol depths of greed which exceed our perceived freedom.
America why are we so deranged?
America why do we seek revenge for something we created, for a world we developed
with our plastics and shops of diversity.
America you know Obama won’t live 30 days past inauguration. He is but a product sold to us in anticipation of his Martyr-ship; you can’t let a nigger be president, let alone a woman or queer.
America we are stuck in this system of pavement and genitals, we are stuck with the
coats whom hide their pricks below Giorgio Armani Jackets and designer shoes.
America have we all gone insane?
America is this not a hate crime, our victimization of the socially determined?
America terrorism is not Steven Kurtz, Banksy, or the YesMen, it is our commercial industry, it is the fear I should have of doing certain things in front of our children.
America, will we let Social Services run away with them, because we choose to not participate in their games of ‘morality’ and socio-economic profiling?
America this is quite serious.
America we have to prepare for the coming shift,
we can’t go on like this, our ‘doomsday’ is approaching America, wake up. America.
America the Apocalypse is near, there is no guide.
America at any moment the lights could go out, the troops could come and secure us from ourselves.
America we don’t have a moment to waste, it is our duty to serve and protect, it is our
right and duty to bear arms and defend our liberties that washed away with the Clorox and Downy they sold me on isle 15b of the Safeway at Meadows Park.
America there will be no more South Park and Married with Children as we know it
the Budweiser in the fridge will not be mass produced in our futures; we hope.
America we can not continue to breathe this manufactured air
there is no synthetic lung to compose me, and the Catholics, Muslims and Buddhist still can’t agree on my state of being, when I have already been.
America it doesn’t really matter as long as there is ‘Cheech and Chong’ and a good laugh.
America I have to quit writing this poem, it is distracting me from the time
and its 4:20 pm Saturday, and all I have is useless paper bills, refried beans in a can from Taco Bell, and this pot that my poetry distracts me from.
-Boulder, Colorado 01.Nov.2008