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The Devil & Dan Jones

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    by BAR Poet-in-Residence Raymond Nat Turner

    Dan quizzed, “Don’t you have Dyson?”

    Satan quipped, “Damn right, my son,”

    “And Reverend Al and Harris-Perry—

    What the hell—the more the merry!”

     

    The Devil & Dan Jones

    by BAR Poet-in-Residence Raymond Nat Turner

     

    Once there was a mule

    Head named Dan Jones

    Who went deep green

    To make his bones…

    Grateful, his don dubbed

    Him as Green Czar

    Hitching him up to the

    Mule in a sidecar…

     

    But, soon came an awful,

    Terrible dragging sound—

    The don had Dan shoved

    Beneath a Greyhound!

    Witnesses all swore that

    Dan had come to grief

    Taken out by his

    Commander-in-chief…

     

    A rather cunning feller

    NY Times bestseller

    Dan was nobody’s fool

    Trussed to the ol’ mule—

    Lashed to the state machine

    Like a great stunt scene

    In back of the mule team

    Clutching his rebuilt dream…

     

    FLASHBACK:

     

    Years ago, Dan met with

    The Devil and cut a deal:

    To paint things green,

    While “keeping it real”

    Spinning double-talk into obfuscation

    Dealing dope of disinformation

    Spinning his Don with sick skill

    In Operation Chlorophyll

     

    Dan quizzed, “Don’t you have Dyson?”

    Satan quipped, “Damn right, my son,”

    “And Reverend Al and Harris-Perry—

    What the hell—the more the merry!”

    Dan whined, “What if people discover?”

    Satan whispered, “I’ll give left cover,

    I’ll handle doubters and haters,

    The left Luddites and agitators!”

     

    And when Dan asked outta the deal

    Satan snapped, “Now, let’s be real—

    Your chances are none to slim

    Your ass is mine like Unca Jim,

    Or like the Clintons and Gore

    You belong to me forevermore…”

    “Why, Dan, you’re a good man,

    By having you, “Yes, we can!”

     

    Come commit pen and tongue

    You’ll be big as Andy Young,

    A pulpit to plot and scheme

    All in the name of “the dream,”

     

    But dreams don’t pay rent—

    Come manufacture consent

    With your smarts and pedigree

    Come and be all that you can be!

     

    Yes, you and Mike will be tops,

    Big Word-Men, running Psy-Ops

    Why, we’ll be keeping dope alive

    Re-filling Negroz heads with jive!

    Dan, we knew you had it goin’ on

    Now, let’s green the Pentagon:

    Ooh, organic cotton jumpsuits,

    Bamboo batons, recycled boots!

     

    Solitary confinement, ionized air,

    A solar-powered electric chair;

    Armored division, hybrid tanks

    Solar drones covering flanks—

    Doesn’t matter how obscene,

    You’ll just paint everything green—

     

    Smear stories with left lacquer

    Go wild with me as your backer!

     

    Come meet the Brothers Coke,

    Eating fire, blowing smoke!

    Think girls are sugar and spice?

    Well, meet Condi and Susan Rice!

    Meet Long Dong and Collin Powell

    “Who?” Dan, don’t act like an owl…

    Here, meet Henry and Zibignew

    Chaps with “hella” love for you!

     

    “Hillary’s a legend?” How true

    Allow me to do the same for you!

    Why, yes, that’s sulfur you smell

    My son, you have arrived in hell

    Now employed by the rouge state

    I’m your Devil Incarnate

    Dan stammered, “…You…tube was grainy—

    But… YOU is fuckin’ DICK CHENEY!!”

     

    Raymond Nat Turner can be contacted at upsurgejazz.com.

     

    Raymond Nat Turner © 2013 All Rights Reserved

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