Posts tagged ‘political’

September 2, 2018

let our government fix all of your problems for you, because it can if you believe it can, believe, you pay for it

“Minnesota has a progressive income tax with rates that are among the highest in the nation. Property and sales taxes are also above average.” –smartasset.com

***

i want more officials voted into office who want me to do better for me by me, through hard work.
that said, bigger things dont
necessarily mean better things, plainly.

my mom says dont help.

(i dont want to be labeled or seen as unusable–i have hands, feet, & a head, like most.)

more bloat, more unhinged, more confusion, thanks Chuck Todd… And CNN… Their ads…  
my television and your Facebook tells us so.  gives me something to fear about today.

QUICK look over there:
more taxes, more need for unnecessary, IT’S necessary–we make it so, so…

but come November forget what we charge you to be in charge of you and remember to vote to look good not feel good.

(i think i can do anything, or most things, when i think i can do those things.  irregardless of production or support. )

still throwing money at something
without a plan is still throwing money
at something without a plan still: blue solutions = bigger institutions.

when you fail to plan, you plan to fail, so many have said.

i want local politicians to stop talking
and stop taxing and stop spending on special interest and change
the size of the potholes on my Midway block,
change the size of my American made pockets and pocketbook to bigger, and less empty.

(i have a goal and lists and chores that could use it. :))

yet many worry about how someone in a white house might do something that the media says is such and such and that is not good, you must obey that thought and act on it without question…  but it probably wont happen. very unsure..

you know the guy down the street in charge of the town wants to have you pay him more money, right?  his buddies up the way want to gather more bucks from you to give as gifts in their honor to their voters to keep them in charge…  you pay for that probably.

tho maybe your tax dollar flies overseas
for things you dont believe.
tho maybe those taking have unknown friends
with no sight of the end. IDK.

could use space, could us paper with faces on it as well to better my community, my yard, my rental, my commitment, my family, my potholes–like the ones i give you.

i want to change my life for better every day–i try,
with every dollar of my time it takes, then those
around me will be better themselves too,
with their time the same. just good old fashion trial and error.

i have a plan.  plans…
capitalist for hours and minutes, optimizing my abilities and resources.
even if one is anger or disdain or confusion.

could drag just about anyone and their name through the mud.
that’s easy. thoughts of what was.

and usually when i ask for handouts it’s into a mirror with silent facial expressions,
usually i can find crumbs, water, and hope.

usually when i ask for handouts i dont ask, i ask but it’s remote.

So here:
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February 26, 2015

Bakken through Minneapolis

Night black as Bakken
oil, which malignly pours past silent
communities,

shipped in cryptic-marked tanker cars
under cover of darkness, rightly
so, they move obtusely opaque—

opposite downtown lights which stick to a wetted haze
in the distance, making this Midwest city glow
for miles—some say 150 of them away.

The shit we’ve seen, and haven’t.

That which creeps along can be found in a jet, in
a car, or on foot,

in hardened
rock snow-crust, cold as a
flushed-toilet shower’s mist—you know; everything
is connected, retraced, unplugged,
tubed, tied, aborted,
and rewind.

Truths for lies:
This is safe,
This is fact,
This in fact is safe,
We care about you.

It is snug-up, or snug-down, or
just snug enough, or caught in between comfortable,
and I can’t go outside,
I have to decide.

Then it is: A pub visit, a flipped
switch, a lit door in the distance—these
palm trees have become foreigners
in desert sands which have turned to mud
by native rain power in your very living room
by way of: your very hand;

the vessel you hold,
repurposed from some ornate
decoration, from some ornate
description, from so-and-so’s ornate party,
or from some ornate magazine—ornate parts
of these

-Cult clubs.

And that is life:
black as night as petro ships by, as exhaust fumes fly,
as exhausted you sleeps, you snore, you don’t think;
as an “elected” official’s bank account goes cha-ching,
as a CEO draws outside of the lines, and talks energy.

(of course we need)

as the air goes in and out
of his mouth,
and in and out,
and in and out—

Like fucking, really.
Hey, you thought it. 🙂

Humans without a care,
they are there happily unawares.

With smiles on their dreaming faces,
as that napalm tube rolls on steel wheels in their backyards.

February 22, 2015

No Frac, No Question

When our drinking waters have been set aflame,
and we’ve destroyed our pristine rolling bluffs;
the people of the Coulee Region will be ashamed,
while the mining corporations won’t have enough.

*

No frac,
No question.

June 4, 2014

Local Odds and Ends

Currently my ears are to The Current:
1.) I need to do a membership drive.
2.) I need to tell you what I have to offer.

You may need me.

The someday sun guides these moments,
Skimming and scanning words for entertainment.

Dessa Darling writes of trendy folk
Sitting somewhere in Uptown
In a hyped-up exclusive dive
She frequents all the time.

…How natural.
Feeling somewhat deprived…

Locally famous can get you work—
Haven’t you heard?
Can one person tell us of life?
Exposing us to worth

__Describe what to like,
And what’s cool, new, and authentic! (Right?)

Stories retold
Mundane to old
Fresh to mold
Hot to cold
And I digress,

I do so, but
So it goes.

Who decides the content?
What did they accomplish?

A fine print promise

Only allowing what we should know;
Ads and Marketing pave the road.

Candle to the sun
Eyes attempt escape
Another torn notion
Another empty page

We read on:
We read on.

Their sales people and prospectors betray
Their photo editors have much to display
Constantly political in profitable ways
Constantly cynical; printing what pays

And we run off to a book, to a poem, to a forest, to a river,
To hear nothing but the truth.