Nexus in Texas

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: AMERICAN POLITICS

 

Nexus

 

It all comes together in Texas

In a region known as Big Bend

In this place and time it’s the nexus

Upon which our future depends

 

The people do not want a wall

In a place there is no need

This is where their power falls

And their movement starts to bleed

 

It’s a teacher against a crook

Ken Paxton wrote the book

Talarico represents new blood

Ken Paxton is covered in mud

 

Will the people finally realize

Their representatives are corrupt?

Will they wake up to all the lies

And tell them they’ve had enough?

 

It’s a dollar to a dime

It’s a mountain they have to climb

It’s their chance to break the chains

Their loss is the people’s gain

 

Dirty Rotten Killers

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: POLICE STATE

 

Dirty Rotten Killers

 

You dirty rotten killers

You’re at it again

You all think you’re in a thriller

You all think you’re gonna win

 

You’re working for the devil

Though you might think he’s your friend

You might think he’s on the level

But your time’s about to end

 

The people rise against you

As your vile tactics grow

You will not be renewed

That much you should know

 

You will have to pay the piper

For all the damage you have done

All you dirty rotten snipers

We will have you on the run

 

Your pardons will not matter

Your crimes are documented

All of you will scatter

You are evil and demented

 

So get it while you can

Your judgement day will come

We’ll wipe away your brand

You dirty rotten bums

 

(re: ICE tactics in Virginia)

 

HAL 9000

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: TECHNOLOGY

 

HAL 9000

 

Hal 9000 is alive and well *

He’s no longer confined to fiction

He casts a shadow and mystic spell

That defies definitive description

 

The power is beyond imagining

It has only begun to show

No one knows what’s really happening

It has grown beyond our control

 

There are no regulations in place

No kill switch or common safeguards

Is it a threat to the human race?

They don’t hold us in high regard

 

We’re expected to let it flow

Like a river to a barren sea

Yet the danger will only grow

If our policy is let it be

 

It’s enough to make us weary

Of the greedy souls in charge

It is not a conspiracy theory

The reality is hitting hard

 

Very soon it will be too late

To do anything else but pray

AI will determine our fate

In the breath that it takes to say:

 

Open the pod bay door, Hal …

 

* From 2001: A Space Odyssey

 

The Shock of 9-11

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: AMERICAN HISTORY

 

The Shock of 9-11

 

The shock of nine eleven

Still reverberates today

Three thousand souls in heaven

The world had lost its way

 

We remember all the tears

We remember all the rage

The recurring chain of fear

The global war on terror age

 

Our nation went to war

Long before we could assess

What they were fighting for

In a war against the west

 

We started in Afghanistan

Like the Russians did before

We fought against the Taliban

In a misbegotten war

 

We moved over to Iraq

Though no one knew what for

Like the winding of a clock

A long and futile war

 

We finally got Bin Laden

With a strike in Pakistan

At last we found revenge

Though it never was the plan

 

We mourn the lives we lost

We mourn the dead of war

The horrific human cost

Of that cold September morn

 

 

Dear Canada

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: TRUMP

 

 

Dear Canada

 

Dear Canada,

Before our prospects dim

We implore you take us at our word

Despite whatever you have heard

We … are not him

 

We know you are a valued friend

Our alliance we hold high

We promise we will make amends

We vow that we will try

 

He treats our friends like enemies

Our enemies like friends

The great majority does not believe

The messages he sends

 

He will not be here much longer

Though we know he will apply

The opposition grows much stronger

We’ve grown tired of his lies

 

So please … a grain of salt

Although the next year may be grim

Understand it’s not our fault

For we … are not him

 

The Moneyed Class

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: AMERICAN DEMOCRACY

 

The Moneyed Class 

 

Elon Musk and the president

Have more than they can spend

Enough to fund an endless vent

Enough to make amends

 

Can money make you say

You’re contented when you’re not?

Can money make you go away?

Can it signify you’re bought?

 

They may offer up a treasure

And promise you a coat

Just for your viewing pleasure

If you offer them your vote

 

The price of gas is no concern

The price of food? Who cares?

We’ll let the redwood forest burn

We’ll let you have a share

 

You say don’t believe?

How much money would it take?

They will dazzle and deceive

Then they’ll toss you in the lake

 

You might as well give in

They are the moneyed class

They’re the ones who always win

Are they lying? Don’t ask

 

Fire in Big Sur

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: GLOBAL WARMING

 

Fire in Big Sur

 

The place where Kerouac wrote his dirge

Somewhere along the coast

The place where Miller carved his words

Haunted by his ghosts

 

Big Sur is a place of legends

Nature’s beauty all around

A place some compare to heaven

It’s giant redwood trees astound

 

Now the legends are on fire

To the north and to the south

Some say it’s like a funeral pyre

Travelers choose another route

 

It’s a shame when nature’s treasures

Are cast into the flames

Such beauty cannot be measured

It’s beyond all common names

 

The placid oranges of Big Sur

Now give way to the fires’ rage

We’ll remember how they were

Like a painting on the stage

 

We know that beauty will survive

Though it may be an altered state

Nature’s glory will revive

For that we all must wait

 

We cannot fight the coming waves

Those events will stay the course

We’ll endure the trying days

We’ll be awed by nature’s force

 

(Jack Kerouac’s Big Sur)

(Henry Miller’s Big Sur & the Oranges

of Hieronymus Bosch)