The Fourth

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: AMERICAN HISTORY

 

The Fourth

 

Two and a half centuries ago

We declared our independence

Mad King George felt the blow

And sang a long lament

 

No longer would we serve

A master far away

We took what we deserved

Our Independence Day

 

Our founders were the best

In mind, heart and soul

Old Ben Franklin and the rest

They kept the union whole

 

We thank them to this day

Though their faults are very clear

Their light would shine the way

Through many troubled years

 

This day we remember them

And the nation they envisioned

A circle of enlightened men

Who made a hard decision

 

They created a democracy

The first in the modern age

They defeated an autocracy

And sparked a monarch’s rage

 

Today the kings are figureheads

The queens do not hold sway

We’ve followed where the founders led

It’s Independence Day

 

(Happy Fourth of July!!!)

 

ICE

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: MASS DEPORTION

 

ICE

 

ICE is the new Brown Shirts

The American SS and the KGB

A force buried in American dirt

From sea to hypocritical sea

 

Is this the look you MAGA’s want?

All jaundiced and diseased

Tired, ugly, bloody and gaunt

Beneath our desperate pleas

 

America the true and free

Has vanished with the wind

A land we thought could never be

A fortress built of tin

 

What happened to our liberties?

We’ve lost what we revered

Gone with our democracy

Submerged in blood and tears

 

Our darkest days will linger on

Until we stop them cold

The opposition must hold strong

The resistance must be bold

 

 

 

America First

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: MIDDLE EAST

 

America First

 

Is this what we are fighting for?

When you pledge America first?

The Middle East in flames of war

Could it get any worse?

 

Israel wants mass destruction

Iran wants the bomb

Feel the blast, quake and suction

The bombing of Tehran

 

We had our massive wars of choice

Afghanistan and Iraq

America’s most horrific voice

Meant to awe and shock

 

It didn’t go as we had planned

The shock was to ourselves

Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan

A journey straight to hell

 

The way of war has gone too far

The path of escalation

We’re chasing ghosts and falling stars

The scourge of every nation

 

 

Immigration Gestapo

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: IMMIGRATION

  

Immigration Gestapo

 

The émigré gestapo is coming

To spread terror in your town

Factory workers start running

Before you’re beaten to the ground

 

They don’t care about your rights

Your rights expired yesterday

They’re more than ready for a fight

Your people do not have a say

 

You are something less than human

So our president has decreed

His gestapo friends are fuming

They would love to see you bleed

 

Towns and cities across the land

Get prepared to be invaded

Unless you want to make a stand

The light of liberty has faded

 

It seems our nation’s gone astray

Our doors and gates are locked

The new gestapo is here to stay

The road to freedom has been blocked

 

The Insurrection Act

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: INSURRECTION

 

The Insurrection Act

 

What despicable irony

That the leading insurrectionist

Should summon the Insurrection Act

To release the military hounds

The few, the proud, the Marines

To fight back their own people

To suppress a lawful assembly

To oppress a peaceful gathering

Within the confines of our nation

 

This is not an insurrection

It’s a plain and simple fact

We have gone the wrong direction

We are on a vicious track

 

We remember insurrection

It was not so long ago

You cried out for insurrection

Then you said it wasn’t so

 

You pardoned all your followers

For breaking down the walls

For pushing through the barriers

For answering your call

 

For provoking mass disorder

For striking fear in all

For following your orders

Put ‘em up against the wall!

 

Now you call the soldiers in

A ruthless show of force

This is where it all begins

Our democracy off course

 

 

A Long Hard Road Part IV

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: TRUE HISTORY

 

A Long Hard Road Part IV

 

They came to California on a promise of jobs

Where there was fruit on the vine and peaches

on trees just ripe for the picking

But there was way more refugees than

there was jobs

 

And there was a whole lot of people with skin

a shade darker working those fields of plenty

long before the dust bowl migration

 

They gathered together in sprawling camps of

makeshift shelters and worked like slaves of labor

 

Long hard hours for little pay

Kicked and spit at like stray dogs

 

When the boss man came up short on his payroll

Or got a little greedier than he usually was

He’d call the immigration bulls

 

The Mexicanos would go a running

Those who weren’t fast enough or were

Just too tired to run would be rounded up

Like cattle and took down to the border

 

Sometimes they took em in planes

A man name of Woody sang about it:

 

  The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting

  The oranges piled in the creosote dumps

  They’re flying em back to the Mexican border

  To pay all their money to wade back again

 

  Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita

  Adios mes amigos, Jesus y Maria

  You won’t have your names when you ride

  the big airplane

  and all they will call you will be deportee

 

You might wonder how the poor white folk

couldn’t see that what happened to them back

in Oklahoma is what happened to the

Mexicans here in California

 

Cheated out of their homes and pushed off

their land

 

You might wonder how they couldn’t see that

What happened to them happened to the

Cherokee a way back in Tennessee

 

It ain’t about the color of your skin

It’s about how much you have in your pocket

It ain’t about how you talk or where you’re from

It’s about greed

It’s about never being satisfied with what you

have but always wanting more

It’s about not caring who you have to cheat or

abuse to get what you want

 

It’s all connected

One long hard road

It’s all the same thing

And we’re all in it together

 

  This land is your land

  This land is my land

  From California to the New York island

  From the redwood forest

  to the Gulf Stream waters

  This land was made for me and you

 

(for Alan Arnopole and Woody Guthrie)

 

 

A Long Hard Road Part III

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: TRUE HISTORY

 

A Long Hard Road Part III

 

A dust storm came and it never left

It stretched out half a continent

High as any man could see

(of course you couldn’t see a thing)

 

Those were the Dust Bowl days

Hard times multiplied a hundred times over

Ain’t nothing you could do about it

Some say it was the farming ways

Swept out the natural brush, dried out the

land and made it ripe for the taking

Some say it was the revenge of the Cherokee

Payback is a punch in the gut

(but the Cherokee are not vengeful people)

A dust storm the size of Texas picked

up the land and blowed it all away

 

A man named Guthrie grew up in those

times and put it down in a song:

 

So long, been good to know ya

So long, it’s been good to know ya

So long, it’s been good to know ya

This dusty old dust is a gettin my home

And I’ve gotta be drifting along

 

He joined the army of the great migration

Thousands of poor folks with all their belongings

stacked up like hotcakes on an iron skillet

heading down the highway of the lost and

misguided looking for the land of plenty

 

When you think about it (and I do) it

sounds a lot like the Trail of Tears

Only there weren’t no people lined up to

watch the long loathsome trail of hardship

It came a way too close to home

 

Busted down and nearly broke

They came west to California

Where they hoped things would be better

For some maybe it was

For many it just weren’t

And that’s another story

 

A Long Hard Road (Part II)

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: TRUE HISTORY

 

A Long Hard Road Part II

 

The great war between the states

The war of the whites over black slaves

was a blessing to the Cherokee and

all other native tribes

The whites with their weapons and their

endless thirst for land and treasure

left them in peace

The Cherokee thrived

against all odds and all manner of adversity

the Cherokee survived

 

But when the great war ended and the slaves

were freed the whites remembered

They saw what the Cherokee did

That their tribal ways and culture endured

They saw and didn’t like what they saw

Injuns were supposed to learn the white ways

They weren’t supposed to live in tribes

The were supposed to live in homes

with fenced yards and small farms

 

So they passed laws that broke up the land

into small lots that couldn’t survive hard times

 

So they passed a law that paved a highway

over the red road of days past

 

They called it the Oklahoma Land Rush

 

So the Cherokee and others were pushed

out of their homes once again

They became tenant farmers working the land

alongside poor white farmers for next to

nothing just to put food on the table

 

The Cherokee found a way

The poor white farmers not so much

But that’s another story

 

 

The American Crisis

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: CANADA

 

The American Crisis

 

Mark Carney* and the Canadian nation

Have arrived at a critical crossroad

Like a runaway train approaching as station

They are asked to carry a heavy load

 

He must deal with the brute at the border

Who has neither a heart nor ears

Who isn’t concerned with the mass disorder

Caused by the ship that he steers

 

More than two hundred years of alliance

Shattered in the quick of an hour

Our friendship and trade were reliant

Now they’ve turned rotten and sour

 

They must find a way to appease him

Without becoming his pet

Any moment the wrath could seize him

And send us all into massive debt

 

Oh how I wish we could turn back time

To a place where we all got along

When the northern winds were calm and sublime

But that was only a dream in a song

 

* Canada’s new Prime Minister

 

Revenge and Retribution

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: AMERICAN DEMOCRACY

 

Revenge and Retribution

 

Have you no shame?

Your pledge of retribution

Beyond a simple blame

Shames the institution

That upholds the rule of law

A solemn vow of fairness

A crude and ugly flaw

An absence of awareness

So heartless and so raw

You take the final straw

 

You, sir, are a disgrace

Beyond all comprehension

An actor out of place

Far too dark to mention

A man without a heart

A fool without a soul

You’re tearing us apart

Destroyer is your role

You are a piece of art

Destruction is your goal

 

We don’t know what you think

Are you really such a tool?

We fear a missing link

Or are you simply cruel?

Do you want to be remembered

As the worst who ever ruled?

The one and only member

The one who bears the name

The last of burning embers

The man who has no shame

 

The Hand of Vengeance

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: AMERICAN DEMOCRACY

The Hand of Vengeance

 

Kash Patel is the hand of vengeance

J. Edgar Hoover reincarnate

He will serve at the president’s pleasure

Wo to those who arouse his hate

 

He has sworn to have his vengeance

Against all and every enemy of state

Members of the opposing parties

Journalists for Politico and Slate

 

J. Edgar was an American disgrace

Subversion was within his powers

His enemies vanished without a trace

It was our nation’s darkest hours

 

Patel is cast from the same mold

His reach extends far and wide

His gaze is dark and his hand is cold

He will stand at the president’s side

 

The people must rise to answer back

To safeguard our Bill of Rights

Our republic is coming under attack

We will never give up the fight

 

(Patel to be named FBI Director)

Heartless

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: IMMIGRATION

Heartless

 

How do you tell a child

This world no longer wants you?

How do you tell a child

You must leave your home?

 

Millions of mothers and fathers

Aunts, uncles and grandparents

Must now have that conversation

To prepare for the uncertainty

Of the days that lie ahead

 

Juanita, you are not welcome here

Jose, it is time to go

Your friends are not your friends

Your teachers will not protect you

The police are now your enemies

They will take you from your home

They will place you in a cage

They will make you feel alone

Your family is your only refuge

There is no one else

It is time to go

 

Yesterday is yesterday

Say goodbye to all you know

All that was is no longer

What remains is a lonely road

 

Days of Change

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: AMERICAN HISTORY

 

 DAYS OF CHANGE

The assassinations of JFK, MLK & Bobby

Each event a nation mourned

Each event a hidden element celebrated

We wondered who benefited

Who struck a deal with the devil

Days of sorrow

Days of change

 

The killing of the kids at Kent State

The killings at Jackson State

Shit got real fast

We knew how they hated us

We did not know how much

Days of sorrow

Days of change

 

The resignation of LBJ

Now we knew we could bring change

We could stop an evil war

Bring peace to the killing fields

A new era of hope and wonder

That’s when they killed Bobby

Days of sorrow

Days of change

 

The resignation of Richard Nixon

The man who embraced China

The man who elevated dictators

The man who won 49 states

The man who hired burglars

And kept a long enemies list

Resigned in disgrace

Days of wonder

Days of change

 

The morning the twin towers fell

An act of unconscionable violence

The death of thousands

A declaration of vengeance

The global war on terror

Iraq and Afghanistan

Days of sorrow

Days of change

 

The reelection of Donald Trump…

Jack Random is the author of eight novels (including Pawns to Players and Wasichu), three collections of short stories, two volumes of plays, ten volumes of political essays (Jazzman Chronicles) and six books of poetry (including Life Songs and Lost in Her Soul).  His most recent works are Poemics Americana and Poemics International (Crow Dog Press).

The Fix

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: AMERICAN DEMOCRACY

The Fix

 

The fix is in

Only it ain’t the Democrats

Say what you will

Democrats don’t fix elections

Republicans do

Trump Republicans are committed to it

They’ve dedicated time and resources

To taking over local election boards

It’s always the one who cries foul the loudest

Who is most guilty of the crime

 

Three months before hand

We know what’s coming

Trump Republicans will claim victory

Regardless of the vote count

Their operatives will refuse to certify results

Trump wants the win

He wants his vindication

He wants his vengeance

He wants his retribution

Even more than victory at the polls

 

He wants a civil war

He wants to take the White House by force

He wants his minions to do it for him

You say you don’t believe me?

Wait three months and see

Or take action now to make sure

It doesn’t happen

 

Manchurian Candidate

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: AMERICAN DEMOCRACY

Manchurian Candidate

 

“I don’t really care what happens to

Ukraine.”  J.D. Vance

 

The man has no backbone

No conviction or restraint

In his grand quest for power

A man of principle he ain’t

 

He once stood for justice

And the American way

But the man he once was

Is not the man he is today

 

He has sold his very soul

For a chance at that ring

He would eat a lump of coal

He would do anything

 

He would kiss the man’s boot

If there is something to gain

It took him less than a second

To sacrifice Ukraine

 

He will bow to the Don

The Don bows to the Vlad

As for our democracy

The prognosis is bad