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Original Content at https://www.opednews.com/articles/Chauvinist-Pigs-A-Poem-by-John-Hawkins-Arrest_Bush_Democracy_Fascist-200908-251.html (Note: You can view every article as one long page if you sign up as an Advocate Member, or higher). |
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September 8, 2020
Chauvinist Pigs: A Poem
By John Hawkins
Poem that jazz raps a riff or two to George Floyd and its aftermath. All you need is love, said GW Bush. That's all you kneed.
::::::::
Chauvinist Pigs
for George Floyd
by John Kendall Hawkins
The riot squad is restless
They need somewhere to go
- Bob Dylan, "Desolation Row"
Derek the chauvinist piggy
Up to his knee in neck
All coz George wanted a ciggy
And paid for a pack with dreck
.
Repeat: I can't breathe, he said
I can't breathe: twenty times
Like a mindfulness exercise gone code red
Or Derek, George's smoking gun coach,
Helping him kick the habit
Lawdy, why, just yesterday it seems
We were modelling new Covid kerchiefs
On blue screen catwalks, zoom-zoom streams
Buffer zone fantasies, locked in like thieves
.
And now twin cities tumbling
Into their own jackboot footprints
An empire's nasty stumble-bumbling
Riot squads ready, be-bopping ever since
.
Arrests in 140 cities
Like characters garroted in tweets
Dusting off our rage and protest ditties
We're bringing our isolations to the streets
.
Whoa, what's that cop there doin'?
Rubber bullets, tears, and stuns
Hey look! Harmon Killibrewin'!
Beating the snot outta Rod Carew's sons
.
Two police cruisers accelerated -- zoooooom --
And disappeared through time
Other fascists used a sonic gun -- boooooom --
And protesting brains turned to slime
.
Then, inexplicably, GW Bush
Was asked for his take on events
And all hell broke loose
When he said all you need is love
Love is all you need, he said
My Pet Scapegoat all over again
.
Twin cities falling
Goodyear drones overhead
Call 9-1-1, someone's calling
Freedom's just another word for bang! you're dead
.
Hep two three four, laughin' laughin'
laughin' to the times
Cuz I'm thinkin' of Bill Murray in Stripes
And that egg beater scene
(Why, what'd you think I was thinking of?)
.
Cops firing point blank paint
At the people who ain't
Joe Biden people
Like fascist machinegunning pointilists
Angry at the canvas for being blank
Or being at all
.
Thugs, tweets Trump, thugs
And Cepi is quick to agree
When he sees what he sees
America with Kurds disease
.
Trump holding a bible
Some say like a confederate flag upside down
Face all Wrath of Con
More hot air than a balloon
should have to don
.
Veiled threats of violence
In the corona age
A headline reads:
Democracy Dies in Darkness Daily
.
Cops charged with excessive force
Like Kathy Scruggs charged with excessive journalism
After the Atlanta Olympics bombing
Both sponsored by the voice of god
Deus ex machinas outta control everywhere
Someone call the cops
.
Po-lice
Po
Lice
Po people
Licentious
License to kill
We don't need no stinking badges
Take away their funds and jail them
Predators overhead
.
Feminist patrols of local women
Foxy femme fatales
Like Sirens from Smith College
(O, I remember well)
Enforcing curfews
Against chauvinist pigs
Godivas with batons
Pestlemortarin' their palms
Knees on the necks of creeping Toms
In search of a little carnal knowledge
No happy ending for Nicholson this time
.
Light em up, one cop said
And thus began, the Boston Massacre
Crispus Attucks, a freed slave
(Did you see what they did there?)
Taking one for the team
Way before Jackie Robinson
Paul Revere rode all day and all night
To warn about the black and white
And then, when the craze was over
Settled back in with his favorite nightmare
Chicago '68: The Love we loved to hate
.
Remember how in school
A private one, of course
We limned the world's end
And had to choose between
Three Wise White Men
Archibald MacLeish, TS Eliot, WB Yeats
Compare and contrast
Circus crash or whimper bang or falcon-masked women
Who just won't listen
.
Justice in a Just Is world
Curfews in cities coast to coast
Curlews in ditties ghost to ghost
I really miss Johnny Most
All you kneed is love
Love is all you kneed
.
Fade to black
.
This poem first appeared in Jerry Jazz Musician on August 30, 2020.
(Article changed on September 8, 2020 at 19:48)
(Article changed on September 8, 2020 at 23:04)
John Kendall Hawkins is an American ex-pat freelance journalist and poet currently residing in Oceania.