Father Knows Best

Shouting frantic hyperbole 

over some non-existent attack 

on the right to bear arms, 

while what you truly came for 

was the right to their womb 

The thief in the night, 

the snake oil salesman, 

the father who still thinks 

he knows best 

Sixty-seven years later, 

the television sitcom, 

still the perfect title 

for the poison of patriarchy 

Father Knows Best, 

you've always convinced yourself, 

as you reminisce of the days 

when your TV screen was 

black & (heavy on the) white

 

Father Knows Best, 

how to run your segregated 

nineteen fifties life, 

your quaint little home, 

closet doors kept tightly shut 

Father Knows Best 

how to sit in his easy chair, 

newspaper in hand, 

and demand obedience 

Twenty-years before 

Jane Roe's left hook 

sent Henry Wade 

and all of Dallas County 

to the mat 

When you came to, 

you were bruised and scarred 

from the knockout blow, 

the court having the audacity 

to tell you someone's uterus 

did not belong to you, 

You’ve been plotting 

your revenge ever since 

Father Knows Best, 

you still declare, 

even decades into 

the 21st century 

Father Knows Best 

about fallopian tubes 

he does not have, 

about a clitoris 

he never even bothers 

to find 

Father Knows Best, 

as you continue to glorify 

the father of your country, 

who thought he could own 

and control the entire bodies 

of hundreds of humans 

Father Knows Best, 

The father of your party 

grabbed 'em by the pussy 

and you decided you had 

the right to do the same 

Father Knows Best, 

say four thousand three hundred 

ninety-two Catholic Priests 

I guess fathers still can't 

keep their hands to themselves 

24 Oct 2021

Watch the video

Tricked, Without a Treat

 

Your political sign,

the horrifying 

Halloween ornament

still decorating

your lawn, 

 

even as the calendar

continues its

repetitive cycle 

into the holiday

of colonization,

 

lingers obliviously,

like a child in

November hoping

his Trick-or-Treat bag 

 

would now

suddenly and 

miraculously refill

 

 

26 November 2020

Watch it performed with Daria Quinn

Continuity Flaws

"Villainy wears many masks, none so dangerous as the mask of virtue."

-Ichabod Crane, in the 1999 film, Sleepy Hollow

America bursts

out of our elementary 

school books

 

with glorious fanfare,

fife and drum,

flag waving in the air,

 

looking dapper

in a red bow tie,

tails and top hat

 

or dressed for battle;

red boots, red gloves,

indestructible circular shield

 

either way,

making sure to highlight 

those broad stripes 

and bright stars

 

Stand, we are told,

hand proudly over heart,

pledging blind allegiance

 

to the virtuous defender

of this land of the free,

this home of the brave,

 

the amber waves of grain,

the open arms for

the tempest-tossed,

 

the country, we are told,

God shed his grace upon

 

Self-proclaimed hero 

of our own story-book,

regurgitated repeatedly 

into school children’s

unquestioning ears

 

grooming good little patriots

 

But with closer inspection,

with the benefit of time,

we came to see the blood

dripping from the shield,

 

the stolen land 

beneath our feet

 

We learned that what we 

“shared with the Indians,”

despite parading our 

paper pilgrim hats in the hallway,

was smallpox and

the bullet end of a rifle

 

Our Captain, America,

was trading slaves

and sewing white hoods

 

always in the way of progress,

always protecting the patriarchy

 

Preemptive attacks,

misplaced retaliation,

oil wars and arms deals,

 

for-profit prisons,

children in cages,

the tempest-tossed

tossed away

 

Our claim to be 

the hero of the story

started to conflict 

with the body count

 

Liberty and justice for all, 

but hollow words on a page,

still waiting to be realized

 

America, the super hero,

revealed to be just another

comic book fantasy

with continuity flaws

 

 

 4 Oct 2020

The Illustrated Video 

Idea for the poem suggested by Brett Voina

The Question on Everyone’s Mind

 

Mr. President, a question

I’d like to pursue,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Every time your mouth opens

the words are untrue,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

At the victims of a hurricane,

paper towels you threw,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Seventy thousand dollars 

for the hairstyle of a cockatoo?

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Twenty-six sexual allegations,

you claim all are untrue,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

While “grab ‘em by the pussy”

is what you do,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

On Hurricane Dorian’s map,

with a sharpie you drew,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

“In my great and unmatched wisdom”

your mouth did spew,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Racial diversity training 

you try to subdue,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

You mocked the disabled,

so I ask anew,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Windmill noise causes cancer,

Believe me, it’s true,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

If she wasn’t my daughter,

we’d probably screw,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Liberate Michigan!

Let the violence ensue,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Rake your forests

to keep fires from coming through,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Bleach injections

will make you feel brand new,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Stand by, Proud Boys,

wait for my cue,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

The only question 

I have hitherto 

is What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

I hope we can scrape

from the office the residue 

of whatever the fuck

was wrong with you

16 Oct 2020

Watch the video performed

The Daily Show's Trump's 100 Most Tremendous Scandals

McSweeney's "Lest We Forget the Horrors"

Disrupted Democracy

The debate a sad chorus of disruption

from a president who basks in corruption

He winks to his Klan

“Will you shut up, man,”

Democracy’s deadly malfunction

1 Oct 2020

Land of the Free, Home to the Slave

The following piece is what I am calling a “gathered poem.” All words are direct quotes by slave owner and anti-abolitionist, Francis Scott Key. I’m putting these words together to contrast the blind patriotism often eagerly bestowed to the national anthem with the blatant racism of its writer to highlight the need to relegate this song to the scrap barrel of history.

 

The words in red are from his 1814 poem, “Defence of Fort M’Henry,” which was put to music to become “The Star-Spangled Banner.” It would not become the national anthem until 1916 by congressional resolution, signed by the 31^stpresident. The words in blue are from the often ignored third stanza of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” The words in white are from Key’s final address to the jury, as he prosecuted a man for possession of anti-slavery publications. 

 

O! say can you see 

Are you willing, gentlemen, 

by the dawn’s early light,

to abandon your country,

What so proudly we hailed 

to permit it to be taken from you, 

at the twilight’s last gleaming

and occupied by the abolitionist, 

Whose broad stripes and bright stars

according to whose taste it is 

through the perilous fight,

to associate and amalgamate with the negro? 

O’er the ramparts we watch’d

Or, gentlemen, on the other hand, 

were so gallantly streaming?

are there laws in this community 

And the Rockets’ red glare

to defend you from the immediate abolitionist, 

The Bombs bursting in air,

who would open upon you the floodgates 

Gave proof through the night

of such extensive wickedness and mischief?

that our Flag was still there;

 

O! say does that star-spangled Banner yet wave,

No refuge could save the hireling and slave,

O’re the Land of the free, and the home of the brave?

from the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave

18 Sep 2020

Key's address to the jury can be found in this article:

Francis Scott Key, Wikipedia

This article from The Intercept does a nice job of, among other things, looking into Key's intended meaning in his usage of "hireling and slave":

More Proof the U.S. National Anthem Has Always Been Tainted with Racism

I Guess All Amendments Didn’t Matter

After every mass shooting

since the tragedy at Columbine,

I hear the same damn 

automatic recording

escaping your lips

“Don’t punish  

responsible gun owners!”

You insist any meager

attempts at gun regulation

infringe upon your rights,

no matter how many

children lie beneath the rubble

The price of freedom,

the smoking gun

Yet now, as the president

calls for those guns 

to be turned on protestors,

enraged at the actions of a few,

I hear not your vocal defense

of the constitutional rights 

of the responsible majority

only your nods of agreement 

or your chilling silence

Could it be that you value

windows and buildings

above the lives of the children

forced into lockdown drills 

inside our schools? 

Or is your devotion 

to constitutional rights

limited to the amendment 

that came immediately after the first?

4 Jun 2020

Your Signs Hurt My Senses

To my neighbor 

with the nine Trump signs

lining your driveway,

I see you’ve been on board

with the re-election campaign

since he first lost the popular vote,

eagerly anticipating

how many more pussies

there were yet to grab

I see your signs as a wall,

a feeble attempt to keep away

those you’ve never met,

yet still somehow despise

I see these signs 

forming the cage

surrounding and trapping

those naïve or hopeful enough 

to think they could seek

refuge in a country

that treated them 

slightly less shitty

than the one they

were running from

I see them as a wall

around a uterus

you have tried 

to seize from its owner

I see your signs as a cry

to open the beaches,

letting us swim with sharks,

our torn flesh feeding

the unquenchable economy

My closed car windows 

don’t prevent my ears

from hearing your

regurgitated epithets of

“I’m not racist, but…”

 and “all lives matter” 

and I imagine the 

mental gymnastics 

you must practice 

each morning with 

unfaltering dedication 

to allow yourself 

to believe your sincerity 

in either claim

Your signs scream with

the piercing pops of gunshots

and the rumble of tanks,

a war you have declared

to silence the protests 

against an injustice

you pretend does 

not even exist

I hear your 

boastful proclamations 

that facts are irrelevant 

and science is a liberal plot

you’re too smart

to fall for

I smell the sexism,

the racism, 

the entitlement,

and the stench

is more than 

I can handle

Not wanting to get

close enough to touch, 

I quickly make the turn 

towards the respite 

of my own home,

with the poor taste

still lingering in my mouth

25 May 2020
stanza added 3 Jun 2020