Tag Archives: Militant poetry
¡ Viva el CHE !
I ask you righteous Justice-lovers:
can it be that art uncovers
fiction passed as fact?
(is Cubism abstract?)
Behold the Caribbean glory 
pass the bong —uh, torch. My story
cries for sober ears
to modulate our fears.
Ask the ones who fled that island
why they left their tropic homeland;
if they think it’s cool
to glorify Red rule . . .
The noble face of Revolution,
CHE provides the cheap solution;
earnest young Ernesto
lived out the manifesto.
Martial hippie, beatnik butcher
bravely gazing toward the future
beams the brow of CHE
their shining knight of day.
Brand-new bloodshed—same old song
for guerrilleros of the bong
who rage against machines
confounding ends with means.
Such semi-informed fools display
a heady ignorance of CHE—
as if he played the bass.
(I hold them in disgrace.)
Though CHE was tough on Rock n’Rollers,
he abetted thought controllers;
jailing small and great
in Fidel’s prison-state.
Yet they’re convinced that CHE was righteous:
militant against injustice;
worshiping his name,
impervious to blame.
“Yo, CHE wuz for the PEOPLE, man.
(They’re not too sure about his plan . . .)
He died to make men free –
immortal—isn’t he?”
Vaguely Leftist youth display him,
not quite clear on how to play him:
Bearded god of Vision:
immune to all derision.
Ahem. A different Bearded One,
God’s other revolutionary son
borrowed from CHE—or stole
the liberator’s role.
Yet, let us not be blown off-course.
My words must gather rising force
to set the record straight
and hotter heads deflate.
The hairy Argentinian medic
left a lucrative esthetic:
facial meme of war—
his T-shirts rock the store!
Outworn by posing poetasters,
dreamers, thugs and hero-wasters
ignorant of history
and high on Marxist mystery.
He glowers with a lit cigar:
the noble hippie Commie/czar
for kids who went to Kollege
emerging void of knowledge.
Now hailed by rappers, clueless starlets
Hollywood saints (and leftist harlots);
everyone’s a fan
of Cuba’s Magic Man.
What was his plan to save the nation?
Proletarian dictation!
Eliminating classes
while kissing Party asses.
Classic Leftist liquidation:
bathe the land in blood. Salvation
comes much later on.
For now let’s get it on !
(Let’s get his T-shirt on that is.
The taste is flatter than the fizz
of Revolution Cola;
go ask the Ayatollah).
One serious thing I beg of you.
Do NOT discern the truth. Just view
his face with pure devotion
to set it all in motion.
CHE was a merciless father-mucker
(translate THAT to Spanish, sucker).
Put away your bong.
My poem’s too long
(thus ends the song).
MAD poster available from Dark Arts
IMAGE CREDITS: kgbclothing.co.uk
nevermindthebuzzkills.com
libcom.org
godemperorofhell
Multicultural Suicide: an epitaph for K. Mueller
I am re-posting my poem originally dedicated to Code Pink Activist Medea Benjamin, this time as a memorial to the anti-Israel activist Kayla Mueller – deceased while abetting and aiding Islamist thugs. Was she killed by a Jordanian airstrike – or by her captors ? The God of Israel, the only true God, knows the answer…
She was an earnest devotée.
Her ideals, birthed in Chardonnay
were globally diverse (read: white).
A liberal bark preceded bite.
Her crystal clearer than her vision;
she provoked bemused derision
as she breathed intolerance
toward all who would not dance her dance.
She swooned for distant pagan tribes,
attuned to their exotic vibes –
rapt in multi-culti piety
strangely deaf to her own society,
judged by her as abomination;
unredeemed. The background station
always stuck on N.P.R.
(the soundtrack of her culture war),
Pacifica News and Democracy Nows,
and other Progressive holy cows.
Her motherland a shameful mystery:
guilty first, and void of history –
its origins defiled, corrupted…
while she enjoyed uninterrupted
freedom to pursue her whims:
misguided one-world global hymns.
The sisterhood of hu(man) kind
was foremost in her zealous mind –
even should that same sisterhood
be sealed with her well-meaning blood.
Out on a date with global death
she hoped to unify the earth
in solidarity with causes
led by killers, warlord bosses,
thugs she never knew existed
who, if she’d met them she’d have resisted.
Her theory landed far from her praxis
spun, by default, on an evil axis.
Hot with zeal she fumed and stormed
quite certain she was well-informed,
at benefits, non-profit functions
rallies, boycotts, left-wing luncheons;
warm with righteous spite for Israel,
aiding and abetting Ishmael
with fellow-travelers, like-minded
similarly hateful, blinded,
rattling sabers, scimitars, axes…
(lunacy never wanes, but waxes
hotter with the passing years
as activists confront their fears).
She finally shilled for the Intifada
(stopping short of reciting Shahada),
reaching out to the terrorist
with righteous raised progressive fist…
offering thus her neck to blade:
collateral to be repaid
by murderers who couldn’t care less
about her open-mindedness.
NB: Any resemblace of poetic protagonistas to actual people is pure coincidence
IMAGE CREDIT: AP Photo/Rahmat Gul
Agitating the Spin Cycle

