Pentagon pimps keep pimp slappin’
and kickin’ us to the curb…
War is the answer. What was the question?
Don’t I protect you from the Pacific?
Don’t I protect you from the Atlantic?
Don’t I protect you from crazy Canucks
comin’ down and stealing our drugs?
Don’t I protect you from Mexican rapists
and murderers on their way to work everyday?
Don’t I protect you from Al? Yeah, Al Qaeda!
Don’t I protect you from AQAP: Al Qaeda Arabian
Peninsula (and Associated Forces)?
Don’t I protect you from ISIS (and ISUL)?
Don’t I protect you from Boko? Yeah, Boko Haram!
Don’t I protect you from the bear, panda, red sun, the
fellow with the funny mustache, the blackshirt baldheaded fella?
Don’t I protect you from the Haitians, Hondurans, and Guatemalans?
Don’t I protect you from Black Lives Matter, Antifa, the
Palestinians, Taliban and Pakis? And didn’t I blow your mind the
time I whacked Bin for you, baby?
That’s why you gotta keep my patriotic pockets lookin’ like they got
Baby, that’s why you gotta get out there and get my money by the 15th
Baby, weren’t you kinda sweet on the Drone Ranger when he blew
in from the Windy City with regime change you can believe in?
And I caught you recklessly eyeballin’ McCain when he sang,
“Bomb bomb-bomb—Bomb-bomb Iran…” And you thought Boss
Tweet looked “Presidential” smokin’ an Iranian general, didn’t
But for you, baby, I’d liberate Kuwait—and I’d build black sites and
Bases ‘round the world; I’ll build NATO for my hoe— and daddy
don’t care ‘bout your pronoun—money makin’ makes it all a
hoe-noun…But baby, I’ll do disinformation, for you;
Misinformation, for you; Tell big lies for you—Even deploy spies,
for you… Baby, you work so hard and you’re so sweet, I’ll give you
the 7th Fleet. You know I’d do anything for you, baby!
Just don’t talk that single-payer/guaranteed income shit—
I’ll slap the taste out of yo’ mouth…
Baby, them other players are all full of jive; I’ve proven my love
with an F-35—I’m your king and you’re my queen, I’ll skywrite
your name with a F-16! Now, go get my money—love can
wait— Daddy’s gotta take care of his apartheid state!
Oh, baby, please don’t you listen to that hater; My henchman ain’t
I’d pivot without a leg to stand on, for you/I’d mobilize
militias and the joint command on, for you…
I’ll fight both day and night ’til the bitter end, for you/I’ll expend
every cent of the ‘peace dividend,’ for you…
I’ll build a wall on the border, for you/Spill blood for a new world
order, for you…
I’ll buy the War House and Capitalist Hill, for you/I’ll make
every new war a bloody thrill, for you! I’ll kill and kill and kill,
I’ll dig more mass graves, for you/I’ll oversee more slaves, for
you… I’ll overthrow Saddam Hussein/ Smuggle Columbian
cocaine/And I’ll even start shit in Ukraine, for you, oh baby!
Darling, I’ll break all the rules, for you/Keep extracting fossil fuels,for
you… I’ll sing like Etta, “At Last,” for you/Even set off a nuclear blast, for
I’ll protect our way of life, for you/Even create world strife, for you… I’ll
drop a cluster bomb, for you/A bunker buster bomb for you, oh baby! I’ll
apply sanctions worldwide, for you/Forever pick the white side, for you…
I’ll shout “U-S-A!” chants, for you/Bomb water plants for you, oh baby! I’ll
destroy wildlife and coral reefs, for you/I’ll even inflame ethnic beefs, for
you, oh baby!
For you, baby, I’ll export death and violence/Don’t go changin’ your lamb-like
I’ll do massacres, bombings and assassinations/Just keep sendin’ me those
We can’t wait for the smoking gun or mushroom cloud/Baby, just close your
eyes and follow the crowd…
Baby, I spend more than the next ten combined spend/And each night I pray to God
Spending will never end!
© 2022. Raymond Nat Turner, The Town Crier. All Rights Reserved.
Former forklift driver/warehouse worker/janitor, Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet;
BAR's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC.
You can Vote for his work at: GoFundMe: https://www.gofundme.com/f/the-town-criers-big-tooth-fund