I, John, your brother and companion in the suffering
and the citizenry that is America say that it began with
a piece of cake baked with salvia super-skunk
because I had to match the crazy, I had to do something
to understand
the Congress,
the President,
the Media,
the Chuck Todd,
the goatee,
the police,
the average Joe
and this is the journey
into the madness of America,
for when there is no trust-worthy Virgil,
because he has been bought and sold
a million times over like a high-priced whore,
our poetic tour guide must take the form
of mind-bending hallucinogenics.

IT started with the weapons of mass destruction
I found them, for only I knew where to look
because they were imaginary
and you had to be insane to find them
and I am insane by any definition

AND He, the Hairy One Less Than a Tree, spoke to me thus:
We found the weapons of mass destruction.
We found the biological laboratories.
The mission has been accomplished.
This is the new economy,
The old rules do not apply.

THIS is about our Heavenly Father
who knows what ought to be in Heaven,
it’s where everybody wants to go, a righteous undertaking,
as it is, they want to go to Heaven and live out an enterprise,
one that Jesus says is willed by the watchful eye that knows
9/11 never happened, he’s been working toward what the people want,
a system of towers that fall in the aughts, which is considered
vastly inferior to those jumping to their deaths.
The answer is something that follows them all the way down,
that no one says aloud, but films without a hint of respect,
in high def, to show people what they were never invited to see,
and call them by only vague references to president or prime minister,
although I’m sure they are emotionally, intellectually all the same,
they need someone to live it.
Jesus knows I am physically
pretending to tell them
how to live it.

AND Jesus was a sailor when he sank beneath the waves
and spoke to me thus:
I tried to calm the storm, but being mere mortal,
though as I am,
I could not match
the expectations of Suzanne,
who knows Constantinople is the key;
and I heard Jesus speak, with many a moan and scream
and there were no elegant memes
and he looked confused,
like he couldn’t believe his bad fortune
like a man who plans a coup at work
and gets shit-canned instead.
He’s completely naked, to add to the humiliation,
and then there is the big rescue,
whereby the aforementioned Jesus of Nazareth
of a personal God quaquaquaqua is prevented from being crucified,
thereby leading to a world history that does not change
as much as you’d expect

WE found the weapons of mass destruction
We found the biological laboratories
This is the new economy
The mission has been accomplished
The stock market will continue to rise indefinitely
For those that call me crazy
know they said the same about Saint Paul
who knew crazy is associated with the moon
and the moon is a celestial body
much closer to God

I would vote against raising the national debt ceiling.
I would vote against not raising the national debt ceiling.
I would not vote against not raising the national debt ceiling.
I would not vote against not not raising the national debt ceiling.
I want to help my fellow man, but you won’t let me.

THE band plays on
and on and on,
and I, John, hear an acoustic guitar,
simple chords, C, F, G, C, F, G
two beats, two beats, then four.
The sounds of water lapping against the boards of a wooden ship,
distract me as I feel the cold, freezing cold, and I see my breath,
but my blood is hot and my
heart pounds in anticipation of when we reach the shore.
I am on a ship, you know.
On of conquest.
And a voice joins the guitar, a bass-baritone with a
bluesy texture and jazzy tone
It is John Adams!
Goddamn, can the sing!
He sings to me thus:

I’ve got some guys and a boat
And they all know how
To smash down your walls
And get across your moats

I am on a Viking ship, on the bow, viewing the approaching coastline
beyond the dragon head in the foreground:

We’re sailing to your land
You’d better run
As fast and far away as you fucking can

We are in a fleet of over forty longships, an awesome sight to see,
and one that pleases the other senses as oars beat the ocean surface in time
to the song, and lithsmen grunt and solicit moans from the hull as it gives
under the strain of their might
The salt in the air mixes with their sweaty stench as gulls hang above us,
then dip and dive,
then cry out as they are driven away by large black vultures that await
the coming carnage, they glide above the coastline as the inhabitants of the village
run frantically in all directions, some mounting pitiful defenses,
others run off with their children in tow and with as many possessions
as they can carry, still others kneel and pray to a god that cannot save them
The vultures know this, no one can save them, only we can save them by
calling off the attack, but we won’t

All of our helmets have big horns
And they shine in the gaining light of early morn
But as horny as they are
You outta know
We are much hornier by far
And we love to rape!

The keels of our ships leave jagged scars on the shoreline that portend
the violence to come.
Something dawns on me
I know this song
I’ve sung it before
I’ve sung it for thousands of years

We’ll fuck what’s not nailed down
For the church or for the crown
Wherever people can be found
Yeah, we love to rape!

The first hut is engulfed in flames because the Greeks and Romans beat us to it,
as they run about, smaller in stature than we, but meticulous and
organized beyond compare, with exquisite linens, and we cannot match the sheer
number of their infantry, but history is on our side, our marshal leads the assault,
he looks familiar, like me, but not like me, and is a hairy beast, as we are every one
We enter what looks to be the common square and I grab the first pretty young girl
I can find with nascent breasts, all of thirteen years
We rape her savagely, and I don’t want to do it,
but it’s meant to be a team-building
exercise, so I volunteer to drive the bus,
but still I hear, Asshole! Get over here
and be a team player!
I have to be a team player
Americans hate people who aren’t team players
You see all that, says Adams
Pretty grisly, eh?
Look out the window, Johnny, a voice says in my ear
I know immediately that is Jefferson, and the sound of his voice makes me forget
about all else, and my heart explodes in my chest
As the author of the Bill of Rights, he is my favorite, and I bow before his magnificence
We are in the air, flying in a convertible Chevy, the ground below laid out like a parcel
map, cirrus clouds pass in the distance, but level with my eyes, and hawks dogfight
over the limp carcass of a sparrow that passes back and forth between them
Now tell me, says Jefferson
Did you write the book of love?

And do you have faith in God above?


Do you want to save this great land of ours?
Then buy yourself a Chevy, then take it to the Levy, even though it might be dry,

Find yourself some good ol’ boys, and drink yourself some whiskey and rye.
It’s so simple, but most really important things are. It’s as simple as the First
Amendment, music will save this country, as it always has, all it takes is music,
and love, and music and love and the love of music

I hear water, water laps against the wooden boards

of a floor underneath a toilet in a men’s room
The waitresses wear cream-colored tank tops
and navy blue skirts that are hiked up

in the back, exposing peach-colored bikini bottoms,
such perfect asses,
each one a tight, inverted heart

It wasn’t rape, I swear it wasn’t
And the white people misappropriating black culture spake thus:

We got rid of all those suckers
We called them cousin fuckers
Hillbillies, savages, white trash
But they made us lots of cash
Boy, we love to rape!

And the colored girls go:

Do, de-do, de-do, de-do-de-do, do…
We found the weapons of mass destruction

We found the biological laboratories
For those who say we haven’t found them, they’re wrong
We found them, for this is the new economy
The housing market will continue to rise indefinitely
The government surely must know something we don’t know.
The government surely must have intel that we don’t have.

We changed all that, you know, Jefferson says, gesturing toward the slaughter

I turn toward Jefferson, but then hear a sound like the sky has been ripped open,
I look, and a tornado comes out of a gigantic hole, followed by a great cloud,
and a fire unfolding itself with a brightness about it, and out of it comes the color
of Amber, out of the fire
And then out of it comes the likenesses of four living creatures, and they are the
likenesses of men, they are the likenesses of Abraham Lincoln, Alexander Hamilton,
Andrew Jackson, and Benjamin Franklin, and each one has four faces, and each has
four wings, and the faces of eagles
and their feet are those of eagle talons, and their teeth are of wood turned to pulp
and sparkle like the color of brass, and they have the hands of men under their wings
on their four sides, and the four have their faces and their wings
And they are like gold, but not of gold, and they are able to fold in every direction,
and do fold in every direction, and they are not lighter than air,
but can float on the wind, and I hear the searing crackle of a lightning strike
and I see wheels descend from the hole in the sky upon the presidents,
and their appearance is like the color of #85BB65,
and the four have one likeness, and their appearance,
and their work are as a wheel in the middle of a wheel,
and the spirit of the one living president is in the wheels

and I hear the noise of their wings, like the noise of the Twin Towers coming down,
and above the firmament that is over their heads is the likeness of a throne,
and upon the likeness of the throne is the likeness of George Washington

I see the appearance of fire around him, and it has a brightness about it,
and this is the appearance of the glory of the Founding Fathers
and Washington holds what look like lightning bolts,
and he throws them down upon the Vikings and coastline raiders,
and he decimates them,
and he rains lightning bolts down, in a withering aerial bombardment,
and nothing on the ground can withstand the awesome air assault,
and everything on the ground lay in smoldering ruin,
and there is not a single creature left alive,
and there is no more suffering,
and there is no more pain
There is only serenity and peace.

I see the golden city descend from the clouds and replace the coastline village
It lowers itself on top of the existing village,
crushing it,
obscuring it,
erasing it from history,
it never existed,
and the wheels dismantle themselves and become the temples to the
Founding Fathers,
and in each temple there is a throne,
and each one takes his place on his throne
Lincoln onto his,
Jefferson onto his,
and Washington who resides within and lives within his obelisk

I hear a distant, low-frequency drone, and I look and I see thousands of gigantic
dragonflies coming up out of the Potomac,
each one easily twenty-seven feet long,
they fly straight for us,
and Adams as he mans a mini gun
The dragonflies approach from all sides, swarming,
coordinated as if a central intelligence controls them,
they fire at us with machine guns and rockets,
and Adams unleashes a withering assault from the mini gun,
but the dragons dart toward us, and then away again, buzzing our vehicle
and coming in close repeatedly, so close that I can read what is inscribed on them
and I realize that these are not living creatures at all but mechanical beasts
of the Merkwürdigliebe brand

And then I see a black man wearing a White Sox jersey,
he seems be controlling the mechanical dragonflies
we will surely die, we will surely die, calling all of you big strong men
but then Black Hawk helicopters appear and come to our aid,
but the dragonflies double back and attack them, but do not destroy them,
and instead attach themselves to them and take control of them,
and they attack us with machine-gun fire, but Adams, takes the wheel,
And in the confusion I lose track of the Black Man in the White Sox Jersey,
but then I see him again, and watch him retreat to a large building
made entirely of white bricks
It is a building that is meant to look ancient so that citizens will think it has always
been there, but it gives itself away by its departure from the classical style,
with rectangular columns instead of round, and a symmetrical façade that looks
like a prison

I catch the Black Man in the White Sox Jersey in my peripheral vision
as he disappears inside of the building, and the dragonflies
and Blackhawk helicopters
soon after retreat to that same place

We bank hard and dive-bomb toward the building, faster and faster,
but as we approach the top of it opens, and out of it pour exact replicas
of the Founding Fathers

There are hundreds, then thousands, then millions of the copies
They swarm the city and the earth.
and I see the Black Man in the White Sox Jersey walk out into the desert,
and all paths lead him out into the desert,
and his melancholy can sadden the earth,
and I hear him him say that he would like to help his fellow man,
but they won’t let him

We fly from the golden city, and I see it vanish over the horizon
I don’t like to pray, but do anyway, and I fall to my knees
and bow my head and fold my hands, and the words come involuntarily

Dear George Washington, please hear my prayer

You shouldn’t have done that, a voice sternly says

Adams’ face is ashen and grave

The worst thing you could have done, my boy, the worst you could have done
There is a flash in the sky above the golden city,
Adams’ sits in the midde of an nuclear holocaust
And the leader singer does not sing
she acts in bad movies,
and sells bad perfume,
and dances with the stars,
and there is a void,
and the void I sense is pulling me down,
the void for musical outrage,
but there are no songs
Where are all the songs?
She and the others packed up their shit
and moved out of Ohio,
no one lives there no more,
they moved above Clark Kent’s State,
where the wizard is real,
and he is real good at math,
and used the Lion for skin,
and sold the Tin Man for scrap,
but the straw man he kept,
to beat the hell out of
and to kick him around
because a straw man is good
for when bad shit goes down
I fall, fall down, crash straight through the roof
of a log cabin in Valley Forge
and land flat on my back,
the wind is knocked out,
and I gasp for air
I see every star in millions of colors,
and I manage to fill my lungs
as a siren on the guard tower near the Center for guests,
it rouses to life and penetrates my bones
Floodlights pop on the Grande Parade
as I look through the bars of my cabin window,
I check the door, but a metal slab is there,
I pray Jesus will move it,
but he only moves stones
I look out and see that the parade is filled
with cabins like mine,
tens of thousands of them,
and guards march prisoners back and forth between them
What trickery is this?
I see a man in a white sheet,
and a matching white hood,
and underneath he is dressed from
his hat to his boots, in red, white, and blue
and his long white beard,
and his white head of hair
and an ailment he has had for
four score and seventy,
doctors gather ‘round,
with their cutting instruments,
to cut out what is wrong,
it’s a splinter they see,
a deep nagging pain,
and they make the first cut,
and pour grain alcohol to cleanse it,
and forceps to remove
the most painful part
And the surgeons pull it out,
and in one great scream
Uncle Same cries out,
I can’t believe the American people
elected a nigger!
to be president of the United States!
And this cry it is echoed
from precinct to House,
from Speaker to Majority Whip,
from judge to jury,
from hand that holds the taser
to one that holds the gun
Oh America!
Why do you retreat
from the progress you made?
Is it binary math, or feedback control,
with a first-order response
damped fully to the whole?
Was the set-point changed
too much and too soon?
as we oscillate like tides
back and forth, accomplishing nothing
but erosion, controlled by the moon
which is a celestial body, too close to God?
I say I can’t breathe
with both hands in the air
the door unlocked and opened to fresh air,
and a powerful light shines in my face,
six arms grab me and drag me out into the parade
they throw me to the ground, and stomp on me with boots,
I lie on my back and wipe my bloody head,
and nose, that is broken, with the back of my wrist
I look up at the guards huddled above
I blink and there are six,
then nine, then more
I lastly count twelve,
before they shut the door
and break the cameras, and put on their gear
and a hood is thrown over my head
as I shake
and shake
and shake
until it is over
and I mercifully don’t care

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