They musta jumped from my recycling bin

as I trotted past trying 2 catch the train

in time 2 jus pass time.

I am running past my everyday reality.

Seeing only trouble ahead

the good times left far behind.

See

I cannot stop this WAR.

This ever expanding

WAR ON TERROR.

No 1 can now.

& global protests still won’t bring back

the clean H20, clear air

& nontoxic soil, nature spoiled

4 the oil & the gas.

WORLD PEACE

thru pipelines & secure shipping lanes.

The sailors sailing containers

of Colonel Klink’s contraband thru customs.

Carrying cashcrop crates of cocaine

speed smack green & gold

& that’s how we bin sold.

Those sons of daughters

& fathers buying rose gold

& platinum chains,

the blood stains still dripping.

Now draped over once upon a time

lead lined necklines & wrists.

Bejeweled fingers & thumbs

enslaving the young.

I see American children

GROWING EVER OLDER

getting worldly wiser

cloaked in camel hair camouflage

thinking they soldiers in waiting

or rebels revolting thru

SYSTEMIC SELF-DESTRUCTION.

WILL THEY EVER WISE UP 2 SEE?

MOVEMENTS NEED $ & leaders 2 lead

wielding words & deeds

w/ they feets in the streets.

I’m seeing nonprofits & pulpits

protests & primaries as intertwined

w/ street corner poets

penning powerful speeches

drawing radio & TV personalities.

I’m sending voluminous luminous

liminal messages streaming

simulcast over the World Wide Web.

Selling CDs books & DVDs

& putting the dough

in2 radio shows & cable access

storefront ops & billboard actions.

I’m going from the cities 2 the towns

TAKING THE REPUBLICAN RHETORIC DOWN!

Sarcastically shouting & shoving

right wing shock jocks flat on they asses.

Sparking a literary backfire burning away

the layers of the American lie.

I am staring

@ all the people I coulda been

but 4 a single simple X or Y,

surrounding myself w/ strangers

subtly sowing my seeds.

Unseen acorn born growing

in2 gigantic ancient oak

chainsawed long after my time.

I am whispering wisps of wisdom.

Floating truth & lies behind

& beneath, between the seams

of these weighty words streaming

thru this pen & on2 the clean page

forever defiled by my hand.

& I may now understand

my tiny part of the plan

amid all the piles of papers.

THIS IS BUFFALO CALLING!!

Are you hearing me?

Can you hear me now?