"Oh My God, What a Stud*"

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Elite Force Aviator: George W. Bush - U.S. President and Naval Aviator - 12" Action Figure
Pre-order: Available 09/15/03





Elite Force Tonto: Tony Blair--U.K. Prime Minisiter and Anal Aviator-12" of Figure on Knees, Pre-order: Available 09/15/03






Evil Incarnate: Osama bin Hussein -12" Missing in Action Figure
Pre-order: Available 09/15/03





Private Jessica Lynch Breaks Every Bone in her Body, Gets Saved,Then Saves the World-12"Action Figure,Pre-order: Available 09/15/03





Not recommended for Those of the Age Where They Can Discern Reality From Fiction


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'Shit,anyone can be President. I told ya that a long time ago.' Billy Carter

*As propagated on the Neal Boortz radio show

Duemer Treats Us

to a lovely section from Magical Thinking

...the valley. In the
bible only the
holiest men
are taken up into
heaven without
dying & that
is the feeling of
such sleep near the ocean....

More

Legacy

It’s 100 degrees in London
75 in the deep south,
a pink jane fonda rides
nakedly on a black steed
through the wild bonfire
where a nude brigitte bardot
is tied to a white table
a sober young man
drunken with power
takes out his scalpel
and begins to carve her
while the rest of us
watch and do nothing
in awe and admiration.

Fellini hangs from our ears
like the first Russian joke
ancient Spanish tricksters
tomando mi pelo, hairy
Shakespearean fools hang
from overgrown pants legs
da da da duh doo doo
Let the rivers of the unconscious
wash over: either to
cleanse or to drown us
A man chases his double
til he finally does himself in.

Kilgore was here alright
Coppola and Conrad before him;
Say what you will about the
American psyche; but no one
knows why King Lear went mad;
Bill never let on; Cordelia
left to faithfully carry on.
The spirit of jazz, rock n roll,
the last spasms of the soul
are brought to trial for
attempting the impossible;
Louis, Andre and Wally
arrested for treason.

In the days of Shakespeare,
The fool was the wiseman
who kept the King in check;
Now it seems the fool is merely
The president and wisdom
can’t be marketed.
Jung recommends ancient alchemy
As a way to reclaim the modern soul
The stone sinks like dead philosophy
To the bottom of the ocean.


The lynch mob raises its torches
searching the high desert for the
Frankenstein of its own making
Lynchers and lynchees and the innocent
All come down with some mysterious illness;
But is it all that mysterious?
How many have to die for the world
to become one big corporation,
remnants of the soul left to
beg by the side of the road.


Now I know Eleanor Roosevelt
Couldn’t really fly
But why can’t we have
A leader of the people
Kucinich and Willie
Surely could save us;
Some say we need a woman
A return to some mythical
Matriarchal paradise—
Angel flying too close to the ground.

But is it really gender
Or the nature of power
What’s so funny about Paz,
Amor and understanding;
Paz is a dustmite
that neither comes nor goes
circling around Time
till he becomes a pause.
What can we do?
Bukowski asks.
One last chance
at Romance in Durango?
Nothing. No one escapes.
Unpoetically the poet
answers himself

Between Paz and Bukowski
Young Eleanor writes her first story
Without the aid of the alphabet;
Love was not good to me
Nor I for love; but perhaps
Being childless is not so bad
When I think of the legacy—

Who knows what Yeatsian mammal
Might emerge from the desert waste
Dictators come and go;
Empires too; and perhaps
In this heart of darkness
And the quest for eternity
Depleted uranium, radioactive
dominance was the best we could do.