Long Baghdad Poems
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RED SUN DAWNING OVER THE NEW EMPIRE
The dawning sun raises bloody red
Over the traffic clogged streets
And noxious polluted air
Of the capital of Imperial America
The sun with its bloody red glare
Reminds me of all the people who died
This last year in Emperor's Bush's Three Wars
We are the American Empire
We are the power, we are the power
We are perfect masters of the universes
And will remake the world in our image
In the so-called war against Evil
The invasion and occupation
Of foreign lands
Because our leaders say
They might, someday be a threat
And the old words of ancient Rome
Comes to mind
Carthage must die
Baghdad must be destroyed
The heart of the evil empire
Must be invaded
And the evil of Saddam must be expunged
So our great and glorious leaders
Proudly proclaim
Every day every moment
On the conservative media
Now owned, operated and controlled
By the powers that have taken over
The shadow government that runs
The New American Empire
And soon the entire world
Will be under its sway
We are the American Empire
We are the power, we are the power
We are perfect masters of the universes
And will remake the world in our image
We still have some freedom left
Some space to rant and rave
And grumble
But soon, oh so soon
This paper and that paper
And this internet site and that site
And this TV station and that TV Station
Will be shut down
In the name of national security
We are the American Empire
We are the power, we are the power
We are perfect masters of the universes
I continue:
+
Only the Gospel is the goodness to be fulfilled,
By the cross tree with grapes and olives,
The medicine for Adam and Eve, yet teens,
Gold with ruby,
The crown of life in eternity,
Worship before the humblest Redeemer,
On Wind of Creativity,
Who gives to be co-redeemers by co-redemptrix Miriam,
Celestial riches for "the poor in spirit,"
Voice from desert, wilderness,
Regardless of rank, is this dignity,
Else mountains weep,
Cities and villages,
Twins of false paradise - "Sodom and Egypt" from the Apocalypse,
Also Paris, Baghdad, Kiev, Isfahan, skyscrapers of Tel Aviv,
Just at the top of the list,
Like the fallen tower of Siloam,
Capernaum, Bethsaida,
When the albatross is on the scene of history and reality,
His pale armor suscitates the tsunami,
The beast that rises from the bottomless pit,
For the root of the other tree of evil,
And people create the atmosphere and earth for Scylla and Charybdis,
Propagandas without the Gospel of littles,
Without stepping on water like Jesus, nevertheless Peter,
Through the eye of a needle,
Dance on sea that produces earth and vine by inspiration from the ribs,
Like from asleep angel's ribs, Dove takes the virgins of virtues.
the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that Hitler and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11, the cup that JFK drank before he was blown away, the coffee Jerry drinks while driving in cars with random celebrities and political figures, the coffee that Jon Stewart drinks before he goes on an epic take down of some foolish politico, the cup of Arabic coffee that Sadaam drank the day he was executed, the coffee that GW and Cheney drank when they bombed Baghdad, the Indian cup of coffee that Bid Laden drank before 9-11 and just before the seals blew his ass to hell, the cup of coffee that Tiger Woods drank with his mistresses while playing a 3, 000 dollar round of golf at Sandy Lane golf course in Barbados, the last legal drug that does what drugs should do, the cup of coffee that Obama drank when he became President, Vietnamese, Vienna brew, wacky, whimsical,
Whisky Tango Foxtrot, wild, weird, wonderful, WOW, Yabba dabba doo! Yada Yada yada Zappa’s favorite cup of cosmic coffee, and Zorro’s last cup of coffee, Good to the last drop rolled into one simple cup of hot coffee
As I pound down that first cup of coffee
And fire up my synaptic nerve endings with endless supplies
Of caffeine induced neuron enhancing chemicals
I face the dawning day with trepidation and mind-numbing fear
I turn on the TV and watch the smarmy newscasters in their perfect hair
Lying through their perfect blazing white teeth
about the great success the government is having
Following the great leader’s latest pronouncements
I want to scream
and shoot the TV
and run out side
Shouting
Stop the world!
I want to get
off this ing crazy planet”
The earth does not care a whit
about my attitude problem
It merely shrugs
and moves around the Sun
In its appointed daily run
the universe whispers
in my ear
time to drink more coffee
for an attitude adjustment
And I sit down
The madness dissipating a bit
And enjoy my second cup
Of heaven and hell
In my morning cup of Joe
The Honey of a Fog
If you ever lived in Baghdad by
Bay, you would know
That each night as the sun begins
to set,
The fog casts its sweet honey net
all over it.
With baptismal droplets, a true
sweet, love blanket.
The fog keeps things magically
cool, and add foghorns to this scenario.
The fog still remains, to this day,my
'Eternal Lothario'.
Alas, I have moved and by him no
longer fog honey-blessed.
But by that sensous Lothario, still divinely
possessed!
August 13, 2019
* Poem dedicated to Charles Messina..the idea for it jumped
out while commenting to him.Thanks, Charles!
* Bagdad by the Bay is a term
used for San Francisco.
This aspect is succinctly told by, W.Somerset Maugham from an Arab tale:
The speaker is Death:
There was a merchant in Baghdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, "Master, just now when I was in the market-place I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw Death had jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture; now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me". The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went. Then the merchant went down to the market-place and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said, "Why did you make a threatening gesture to my servant when you saw him this morning?" "That was not a threatening gesture," I said, "It was only a state of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Baghdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra".
(A far older version forms part of the Babylonian Talmud)
At age sixteen you can drive a new car
Although you can't enter (most) taverns or bars
At sixteen you can even drop out of school
If that's who you really think you are
At age eighteen you can legally cast a ballot
If you can find a candidate who pleases your palate
You can gamble the night away at a casino
In Vegas, Monte Carlo, Atlantic City or Reno
You can even join the army and 'see the world'
Aleppo, Homs, Kabul, Fallujah, Baghdad
Places where your patriotism's forever unfurled
So! What's still left for you at age twenty-one?
That's right! --The ultimate in 'fun in the sun:'
You can celebrate -- legally -- with five drinks or ten
And go ahead! Pour yourself another tall one!
~ Then go out and buy yourself a brand-new hand-gun!
“He who pays the piper calls the tune,”
and the piper of your tragedy
was America,
playing its flute through Israel’s fire.
O Qatar, blinded by your own gold,
you mistook greed for wisdom,
and in your thirst for wealth
you invited the wolves to guard your gates.
Did you not see the shadow of betrayal?
The largest base of America rests upon your soil,
its radars sharper than the eyes of eagles—
yet the jets of Israel passed unseen,
like daggers through your unguarded chest.
Do not be naïve.
If you believe America was innocent,
you mock yourselves before the grave.
Have you forgotten the corpses of Baghdad?
The silence of Tripoli?
The endless cries of Gaza’s children?
America is no friend—
he is a merchant of blood.
His loyalty is to profit,
his covenant is with chaos.
He builds his empire
from the bones of those who once trusted him.
You celebrated his protection
as if he were a brother,
but brothers do not sharpen knives
behind the curtain of their smiles.
Learn from the fate of Saddam,
from the fall of Gaddafi,
from the ashes of your neighbors.
For the fire that devoured them
is the same fire that now seeks you.
Qatar, you are not the master of your destiny
so long as you dance to the strings of another.
And remember this truth:
What is done to Gaza
shall be done to you—
for those who embrace the serpent
must one day taste its fangs.
"FAKE" assertions unstoppably
bandied with beef,
(sans doughty deeds done dirt cheap)
courtesy of commander in chief
trumpeted as a way to backout,
embarrassment analogous to the thief
of Baghdad, when culpable faux pas
woe philly pops thought balloon of mine
reckons with transparent "good grief"
within mind of yours truly,
who finds himself dumbstruck
aghast, and shaking noggin with disbelief
how people can be so gullible
who would just as lief
eat a pin cushion to deliver strep throat relief.
First amendment teeter totters on brink
of dissolution mainly by the rat fink,
whose defamation against journalists
risking life and limb, yet not shrink
king enlightening liberal minded, who think
similar to myself, imposter
hood drums utter rubbish
while feeling teed off puttering
along Mar a Lago,
or another owned golf link
resorting to silence protesters
whisked off to the klink.
Distortions, (nee outright
blatant lies) saturate
social media platforms,
which followers didst rate
as their numero uno slate
supposedly reliable sources
harkening back to papa retaliate
Tory Bush prez administration,
regarding patrilineal shogunate
where Iraq summarily
targeted for crashing Kuwait
violating, jeopardizing, and
compromising vital oil, literate
folks suspected, that critical
lubricant mandatory to resonate
greasing western civilization
particularly self anointed great
super power USA, hence
alarmists didst exaggerate,
whose military intelligence
industrial leaders got irate
contracting complex projecting
global economy would vacillate
and, perhaps take Kamikaze nosedive
hence procrastination could not wait
demanding based on sketchy accusation
Saddam Hussein, and his ilk ultimate
harbored weapons of mass destruction
despite lack of distilled proof,
would severely truncate
nary a trace sniffed out,
nonetheless damn the torpedoes blitzed
in an effort to triangulate
miscreant running amuck
eventually met demise
with Bush Junior delivering
permanently placating tete a tete,
no matter dispensing top notch
fighting soldiers, whose strong
lifeless bloodied bodies remain prostate.
......The loss of Alexandria,
the burning of Ashburnham House,
the Grand Library of Baghdad
which the Mongolians tore down,
the countless Aztec codices
that the conquistadors all burned...
just thinking of the knowledge lost
sometimes can make my stomach churn.
Even Shakespeare claims a ‘lost play,’
this is not bound to antiquity,
Scott Joplin’s opera Guest of Honor
has been swallowed by history.
Even some tales by Hemmingway
disappeared in a lost suitcase,
happens still in our modern age,
a quite avoidable disgrace.
Only God knows just what we’ve lost,
and isn’t keen on sharing it,
what we still have is half the tale,
we’ve lost so much wisdom and wit.
It can fill a curious mind
with a sense of tired despair,
paper rots and the stone erodes
until it all just goes nowhere…
Perhaps, these days, the bits and bites
will keep all of our knowledge better,
after all, don’t the people say
the Internet is forever?
Isn’t it?
….on an unrelated note, I’m gonna go post this on every poetry forum I can find…
A LEAF WITH A WINDOW TO THE PAST
After lunch, I took a leisurely walk.
I came across a giant leaf, that
whispered, as only a leaf can do,
" Pick me up gently and take me
home with you!"
I did precisly as he requested, such
an autumnal treat, he was, so very
soft and colorful!
But then when in my kitchen, he
made a request,quite mournful.
"Get your scissors, and cut a heart-shaped
hole in the center of me."
I did as he requested, but was more than
sorrowful.
I washed him off with some gentle
soap from Crete.
He thanked me efficaciously and said he
had in mind for me, a special treat.
He ordered that we go on the deck, place
him on the wood and to hold my breath.
"Look in the heart,"I heard him say.
And you will see your love dancing in
San Francisco also known as 'Baghdad by the Bay."
"He will dancing in his Foustenella
and Greek costume complete.
When you first saw him performing
on Eddy Street!"
The leaf was not lying! I watched
my love jump and twirl!
As young as the day, I first saw him.
My heart was all a whirl.
The wonderful part for which I was
not ready!
Is that the street I met him on, as
well, as his grandson, are both
named EDDY!
The wind then blew and took my
leaf-friend with it.
I was so glad I befriended this leaf.
He reminded me that though we
get older, we need not let time of
our memories be a thief.
November 1, 2019
Entered in Chantelle Anne Cook's Contest. ."Anything You Want"