September 7, 2005

everyone is an actor, everybody lies

icons at big easy, william a. smith

-- by chuck d, September 2 2005

New Orleans in the morning, afternoon, and night
Hell NO, we Aint Allright

Now all these press conferences
breakin news alerts
this just in
while your government looks
for a war to win
flames from the blame game, names?
where do i begin?
walls closin in
get some help to my kin
Who cares?
while the rest of the bushnation stares
as the drama unfolds
as we the people under the stares
50% of this son of a bush nation
is like hatin on haiti
an settin up assasinations
ask Pat Robertson- quiz him…..
…smells like terrorism.
racism in the news
still one sided news
saying whites find food
prey for the national guard ready to shoot
cause them blacks loot

New Orleans in the morning, afternoon, and night
Hell NO, we Aint Allright

Fires, earthquakes, tsunamis
i dont mean to scare
wasnt this written somewhere?
disgraces all i see is black faces
moved out to all these places
emergency state
corpses, alligators and snakes
big difference
between this haze
and them diamonds on the VMAs
we better look
whats really important
under this sun
especially if you over 21
this aint no tv show
this aint no video
this is really real
beyond them same ol ‘keep it real’
quotes from them Tv stars drivin big rim cars
’streets be floodin, ‘b’
no matter where you at, no gas
driving is a luxury
state of emergency
shows somebodys government
is far from reality….

New Orleans in the morning, afternoon, and night
Hell NO, we Aint Allright

I see here we be the new faces of refugees
who aint even overseas but here on our knees
forget the plasma TV-aint no electricity
new worlds upside down-and out of order
shelter? food? wsssup, wheres the water?
no answers from disaster them masses hurtin
so who the fk we call?–Halliburton?
son of a bush, how you gonna trust that cat?
to fix sht
when help is stuck in Iraq?
makin war plans takin more stands
in Afganistan
2000 soldiers dyin in the sand
but thats over there, right?
now what’s over here
is a noise so loud
that some cant hear
but on TV i can see
bunches of people
lookin just like me.

-- by Gregory Corso

is Life
It flows thru
the death of me
like a river
of becoming
the sea

-- by Tina Brown Celona

She is hiding the poem under the bed. It is dark under the bed and it smells like cat. It is raining out. Fortunately for poetry it is raining.

My heart is a box lined with tears. They sparkle like diamonds. They sparkle for you.

He is in Nice attending a conference. The astronomers are acting like monkeys. They hotly debate the Anthropic Principle while holding on by their tails. They are learned and fearful and they joke as they twist their tails and beam.

There is a string of bees in the box.

She reads about Paul Klee in the hope that it will interest him but she herself is not interested and so she desists after 1902. In 1902 Paul Klee became more interested in God than in his wife.

I write words on the forehead and around the corners of the mouth. My human faces are truer than real ones.

There is a glow-in-the-dark owl in the box.

You are sleeping. Dreams glide through your brain: stars collapsing, universes expanding, numbers assembling. I dream of losing a pair of red shoes.

* nameless voices crying for kindness, by the fugs


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