Mar-a-Lago Burning

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: AMERICAN JUSTICE

Mar-a-Lago Burning

 

The rope is lowered ‘round the neck

The wheels of justice turning

The dealer playing out the deck

That’s Mar-a-Lago burning

 

He thought that he would never pay

For instigating revolution

He did the deed, he got away

Too late for a solution

He didn’t think, he didn’t know

The time has come to let it go

Nobody cares about the past

That ship has left the port

The next election’s coming fast

We don’t have time for court

 

But justice strikes like thunder

The tide is finally turning

At last the guilty will go under

That’s Mar-a-Lago burning

 

Pouring Rain

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: CLIMATE CHANGE

Pouring Rain

Rain came down like a runaway train

Listen to the pouring rain

Listen to the pouring rain *

 

Listen to the rhythm of the pouring rain

A jackhammer of the gods

To the driving drumbeat of jazz

As you listen don’t you think it’s odd

That the earth needs so much cleansing?

Like a rusted-out bus that you keep in

the garage, the one that threw a rod

Back in nineteen sixty-nine

Back in the days of glory and youth

Back in the days of cheap red wine

When every day was a new adventure

When peace was the sign of the times

 

Rain came down like a runaway train

Listen to the pouring rain

Listen to the pouring rain

 

I’ve never heard a rain so hard

Seems like the sky is falling

Pounding on the roofs of homes

To remind us of a calling

Back to the glory days of youth

When the world was in our hands

Reminding us of a simple truth:

Take care of this sweet land

 

Listen to the pouring rain

Listen to the pouring rain

 

* Number Nine: The Adventures of Jake

Jones & Ruby Daulton

 

Tucker's Reign

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: AMERICAN MEDIA

Tucker’s Reign

 

Three million viewers daily

And not a particle of integrity

He pedaled propaganda to the masses

Not the facts, not reasoned opinion

Not a particular point of view

But raw uninhibited propaganda

An alternative universe

A purely imagined reality

 

He was the King of Conspiracy

An instigator of insurrection

A Russian pawn

An apostle of the Don

No one could take him down

Until they did

 

Not even the first amendment

Could protect the blatant lies

The unbridled hatred

The fake outrage

The unashamed racism

Of Tucker Carlson

 

He made Fox News a lot of money

But in the end he cost more

Than he made

 

What price integrity?

 

Crack in East LA

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: AMERICAN HISTORY

Crack in East LA

 

Remember back in the nineties

When the CIA delivered crack cocaine

To the gangs in East LA

Transforming the crips and the bloods

Into well-armed citizens militias

The CIA used the money to finance

The Contras of Nicaragua

A force against democracy

The CIA doesn’t push drugs anymore

But the gangs don’t need drug money

To buy weapons of mass destruction

It’s easy to buy guns

Any kind of guns

From sawed-off shots to M-16s

If you’ve got the money

They’ve got the guns

The forces of law’n’order don’t need

To start wars in the hood

To kill off the poor people

The people of color

The people who don’t vote

The people who don’t matter

Give ‘em the guns and they’ll

Do it themselves

Shoot ‘em up bang bang

Another black or brown dead

Why not give ‘m an education

Instead?

 

Remembering Ronald Reagan

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: AMERICAN DEMOCRACY

 

Remembering Ronnie

 

I remember Ronald Reagan

The man Republicans used to love

Now that we’ve experienced Dubya

and the Don we know he’s not

as bad as we once thought

 

He was bad but not that bad

He never started a war on one nation (Iraq)

for the crimes of another (Afghanistan)

He never drove the economy over a cliff

He never called for open insurrection

He only sold arms to an enemy (Iran)

He only punished poor people

He only turned his back on gays (AIDS)

 

Some of it was not his fault

He was largely absent in his second term

His dementia was clear enough

His Alzheimer’s was diagnosed later

 

Reagan was elected to his second term

at the age of seventy-three

Americans may soon face a choice of

two elderly men to lead the country

One would be 77 at his inauguration

The other would be eighty-one

 

Give all that America and the world faces

Global climate change

Russian military aggression

A Chinese-Russian alliance

Challenges to democracy

A world in constant crisis

Do we really want to trust the next

four years and the future of the planet

to a man who may not remember

who Ronald Reagan was?

 

Untold Casualties of War

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: WAR

 

Untold Casualties of War

Two tours in Iraq

Two tours too many

The carnage he witnessed

The carnage he inflicted

Tore a hole in his heart

Large enough for his soul to slip through

Large enough to bury the man he was

 

His friends and family said he was okay

They said they thought he was okay

But he was not okay

He was never okay

They should have known

They did know

They didn’t want to know

The young man they gave to war

Came back filled with flames

Teeming with rage and ready to implode

 

One day for some reason nobody knows

The building rage inside exploded

His victims didn’t know

They never saw it coming

A sudden burst of gunfire

A flash of blood and darkness

A rumbling chaos and silence

 

He was his last victim

An untold casualty of war

India

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: GLOBAL POLITICS

India

 

They count their numbers in billions

They count their poor by the block

There are far too many to ride

The great majority must walk

 

The world’s most populous republic

The caste system keeps them in place

To keep up with their growing needs

They are constantly in a race

 

They have marketed cheap labor

They’ve developed a technology force

While others have fallen behind

India has stayed the course

 

Trapped between west and east

Kashmir and Pakistan to the west

To their north the Chinese beast

They must always pass the next test

 

They are giants in economy

Arts and culture are on the rise

And when it comes to population

India wins the prize

 

Vladimir Kara-Murza

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: RUSSIAN OPPRESSION

Vladimir Kara-Murza *

 

To the defenders of Russian actions

To the apologists for Putin’s aggression

To those who curse the western reaction

As they point to our past oppression

 

If you resided in the Kremlin today

You would be facing a charge of treason

There’d be nothing you could do or say

There would be no point to your reason

 

If you but dared to criticize the leader

Or spoke out against the nation

You’d be labeled a trouble breeder

A spreader of “false information”

 

You would spend your life behind bars

Never again to breathe free air

No longer to gaze at the stars

Would you finally begin to care?

 

To you who disseminate Russian lies

We know who butters your bread

Respect for the truth defies

All the falsehoods that you spread

 

And there is no just compensation

For the evil that you have served

You have lost all hope of salvation

May you get what you richly deserve

 

* Russian journalist and critic sentenced

to 25 years in prison.

 

Khartoum

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: GLOBAL POLITICS

 

Khartoum

 

A nation in perpetual war

Where power is determined by arms

A failure of the democratic form

Government by spells and charms

 

A legacy of hatred and genocide

Crimes against all humanity

Religious and cultural divides

Warlords of infinite vanity

Justice can never preside

When hatred breeds insanity

 

World powers are brought to bear

In a land so rich with treasures

Trapped in a treacherous lair

War as a pastime of leisure

 

Will this bloodshed go on forever?

Or will it finally come to an end?

Will the roots of war be severed?

Or will Sudan into hell descend?

 

Cultural Courage

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: TRUE HISTORY

 

Cultural Courage

 

Children have the courage of conviction

Unfiltered truth can only make them strong

Facts will serve as sound-of-mind nutrition

Sorting out the righteous from the wrong

 

History cannot survive as fiction

America’s a place where all belong

The stories of betrayal and sedition

Will not remain well hidden for too long

 

So let the truth be rendered loud and clear

Slavery and genocide were real

Confront it without compromise or fear

Let our wounds at last begin to heal

 

When finally our reckoning begins

America will light a shining flame

When we freely tell the story of our sins

The promise will be more than just a name

 

Ft. Lauderdale Flood

 RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: CLIMATE CHANGE

Fort Lauderdale Flood

 

Spring break in Fort Lauderdale

Shortened by a thousand-year downpour

That’s what they’re saying on the news

A thousand-year downpour

Like a sign of the apocalypse

I say how do they know?

Were they here a thousand years ago?

How’s about the weather Martha?

Bet your daddy didn’t warn you about this

They say its Goble Climb It Changed

They climbed up and couldn’t get down

Two feet of water on Main Street

A water slide through the middle of town

Can you believe it?

The Oldsmobile will never be the same

We ought to sell that damn thing

While it’s still worth the parking fee

Buy a rowboat for chrisakes

One darn thing after another

Helluva thing for chrisakes

Who’s idea was it to move down here?

Mine? Shows you what I know

The whole darn state can go to hell

And no one would even notice

 

Before the Flood

RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: LIFE SONGS

 

Before the Flood

 

Remember Notre Dame before the fire

Remember New Orleans before the flood

Remember how things used to be

Before a series of calamities

Took away our muse

Swept away our sense of glory

Stole the very heart of magic

Absconded with our soul

 

We know nothing stays the same

Even memories must change

Yet we remember with our hearts

We see through our emotions

We remember how we felt when

We first set eyes upon the Mona Lisa

We remember our exhilaration upon seeing

The Grand Canyon or Stone Henge

We remember the strange sensation that

Ran through our spines when we observed

The burial site of Geronimo

Or the ghost dancers of Wounded Knee

We remember the awe that knock on our

Doors when we entered the chamber

Where Mozart once played

 

We will never forget how it was

Before the flood

Even if it wasn’t