Poetry – Trump – The One Game in Town

Trump – The One Game in Town

There’s only one game in town:

Who’s stealing the election?

Trump claimed victory – shouting ‘Fraud’

That he says requires correction.

Yet the corruption seems all one way:

Republican states suppressing registration,

Reducing numbers of polling stations,

Creating long lines and much frustration.

It is they who steal elections

With their underhand tactics,

Claiming that all is fair

In the world of politics.

He who is shouting loudest

Is the biggest conman.

Frying lies, propaganda and threats

In his dark frying pan.

Opher – 4.11.2020

Trump has lost – though he now chooses to dangerously stir up his base with unfounded accusations of fraud. He claims the election has been stolen from him. He’s a sore loser. He’s trying every trick in the book to steal the election – every lie, every false accusation. He’s still stirring up hate and division.

Yet the real theft lies with the Republican states. They have conspired to steal the election. By preventing blacks and poor whites for registering to vote, by limiting the number of polling stations they have tried their hardest to make it as difficult as possible for the Democrat party. That is the real fraud.

One only has to see the ease of registration and voting in Republican areas and the obstacles and long lines, with hours of waiting, in the poor areas.

That’s where the real fraud is!

Allen Ginsberg – America

This was not so much a poem as a dialogue with a country – a country with a personality. He addresses the injustices, the shallowness and paranoia as well as his own situation and relationship.

This was a poem written in the mid-50s in the anti-Russian paranoia following the 2nd World War. There was a great fear of communism. The world was in a mess and the fear of atomic war was claustrophobic.


Allen Ginsberg

America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.
America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956.
I can’t stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb
I don’t feel good don’t bother me.
I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I’m sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don’t think he’ll come back it’s sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?
I’m trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I’m doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven’t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid and I’m not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there’s going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I’m perfectly right.
I won’t say the Lord’s Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven’t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over
from Russia.

I’m addressing you.
Are you going to let our emotional life be run by Time Magazine?
I’m obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It’s always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie
producers are serious. Everybody’s serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.

Asia is rising against me.
I haven’t got a china man’s chance.
I’d better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals
an unpublishable private literature that goes 1400 miles and hour and
Twenty five thousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in
my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I’m a Catholic.

America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his
automobiles more so they’re all different sexes
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they
sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the
speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the
workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party
was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother
Bloor made me cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have
been a spy.
America you don’t really want to go to war.
America it’s them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia’s power mad. She wants to take
our cars from out our garages.
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader’s Digest. her wants our
auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our filling stations.
That no good. Ugh. Him makes Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers.
Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.
America is this correct?
I’d better get right down to the job.
It’s true I don’t want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts
factories, I’m nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.
America I’m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

Poetry – A poem for America! The Teflon Man!

Vice and Verse cover 51K9Up4uCYL__SX331_BO1,204,203,200_ 61U89AzgoAL__AA160_ Rituals, Odes & Mystic anxieties Prose Cons and poetry cover

The Teflon Man

Some people get away with anything – nothing sticks. No matter how serious the crimes they come out smelling sweet. People react emotionally. They make their excuses. They believe what they set out to believe. They suck in the lies. The Teflon man shrugs it off and goes on telling lies. In his world all the shit lands on other people.


The Teflon Man


Pussy groper


Tax dodger








Hate monger


Attention seeking



Russia loving

Mafia moving

Rich kid



Liar and


Wall builder



Racist and


What you sow

You reap!


Opher 5.11.2016

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Has America turned into a backdoor theocracy?


As a Brit who is looking in from outside I am seeing a huge influence of Christianity on the election process and legislation. A theocracy is when religion runs the government (eg. Iran or Saudi Arabia).

Is American run by religion?

Is it possible for a non-Christian to be even nominated into high office?

How much power does the Christian lobby have over the laws that are passed?

At what point do you say that religion calls the shots?

We seem to have very flaky groups, such as the creationists, running schools or setting the curriculum. How involved are they?

Or is my perspective giving me a false picture?