I hate the shoot up of this wad.
If I use sexual imagery you’re bound to buy me.
We are not at our survival,
and there’s not a bear chasing us.
You’re in your kitchen
or master room,
hanging on every word
to get clear reasons to put me in jail
or finally prove I’m wrong
you public think.

Let’s unload this on the public floor.
I don’t know what it is either.
I’m hearing things write down,
a used garbage pail
to most of you cats.
Chop me to pieces will yah?
I’m on Earth today
getting pretty desperate
election time
on that world bar America.
Trump just got elected,
and I’m sorry folks he’s dead.
The vehicle would shoot everybody.
We can’t have him in office,
understand?

What’s gonna happen?
You can’t get America right again.
The Right will take over,
and all the policies that will police yah,
and religion will have a field day
brewin’ public opinion
Christianity stalks.
We can’t even stop it
only aware of our own agenda,
not necessarily nice.
The world will change.
American mean in it.
To grow up in the new country,
to grow up in the United States,
you will see foreigners as twisted sisters
come here and buy all of yah.

What’s the inner being like?
It’s your pick this evening,
to bring that nightmare further:
oh my God America’s change.
It will really throw rights out the window.
You can’t play anymore
puddin’ and spice.
Get fuckin’ outta here!
Who knows
how many crossword puzzles
paid for breakfast,
and they weren’t even supposed to be admitted in the news.
I’ve been here my whole life,
and I study reality.
Never mind,
they were makin’
I need paper towels,
but this won’t happen:
nobody mops up the spilled blood.
They talk about more than fuck out.

I thought maybe you’d
grab a horn
and keep America from gettin’ in office
where Trump runs it.
It’s dire emergency.
Get with the lesson plan:
we need a new world,
the divine human being
getting ready on our tops,
not the Bible said today,
a religion in office.

Spider monkeys,
somebody’s
gonna have to put lead in their bullets,
and do more than just chime,
and vote them suckers down
far out of thirty minutes,
like a rollin’ pin.
You need elections,
this election,
beat her up,
go out there and get milk,
from the Statue of Liberty.
That’s not all she wrote.

My own show,
it is very opening. (vision with the line of scrolling down my blog Harm's End, but the only image showing was one which illustrates a post, a photo of a Black man of about a 100 years ago holding a guitar, obviously an expert on it. The post is about my past life as a Black guitar player who was killed by the KKK, burned alive, for playing in White joints. The vision ended there and the scrolling down)
Poetry as a means to communicate words of action
is nobody’s pick me up.

They suck.
They tell the truth.
I’m out of fields today,
and I don’t know what more expression I can write,
hallelujah, amen.
Keep Trump out of office.

I’m actually a century before.
I don’t know what they had in mind,
the colony
who populates divine word.
Give ‘em an hallucinogen,
the reader I can’t see.
It heightens everything,
even Auroville,
but no I didn’t take one today,
or since I became better at knocking on wood,
years ago.
I can’t stomach your audience.
Is that Auroville?
No I speak to America from,
doggy style.
Don’t get Trump in office.

Is this the Hallelujah Trail?
No it’s not it’s language.
I eat camera’s all the time,
the one I told you about yesterday in your own cabin.
In the history of Trump
I stop wanderin’ around.
These are the votes.
I’m the vote
that let’s you know divine will
in the matter.
Compared to our official engagement,
even Saturday Night Live can’t keep up.
This hole in the ground,
this hole in the wall,
has consequences
I’m gettin’ away.
Grandiose title, ain’t it,
Thought About Rainbows?
Try on Earth some more.
You deserve them.