flag burning

criminal conscience
ode to Bush
the weakness disease
duty's calling
a handful of lies, and a world full of actors
literary suicide
smile, so adored
the judiciary
but seriously
the victory song

criminal conscience
i was considered harmless,
the pussycat of the group.
i killed only twelve
and raped twenty-two.

i'm an underclass criminal,
i'm a boy in a man's world.
i have no potential in crime
because i take too little time.

i kill and rape my victims
with the greatest of ease,
i hurry up with my crime
in order to shorten the pain.

i'm a concerned mass-murderer
and a well-mannered rapist.
i'm concerned for my victims,
i care about their well-being.

ode to Bush
oh mr. president
why are you unhappy,
your dentures are in Efferdent
and the rich are so happy?

you ruined lives in Panama,
you've done very little here.
are you going to change all the laws
and wait for a genie to appear?

you're afraid of flying
in your helicopter,
but you go on spying
and eating juicy lobster.

a bush in a basket
is a good as two quayles in a pod.
have you finished your tasks yet
or are you still praying to God?

you succeeded an actor,
but you're phonier than he - Reagan.
you are one of the causing factors
of the rising numbers of pagans.

oh mr. president
why such gloom,
does re-election present
an obstacle that looms?

the weakness disease
My pacifistic bullcrap
That I pour out,
Means nothing.
It is nothing
Anybody wishes to hear.
I am an outcast
In my views,
As well as:
A pussy,
Who would rather find
Peace and love
With openness and caring
Then with
And intimidation.

duty's calling
Send me
Off to war,
Any war,
Start one
If need be,
For I am ready to fight!

My patriotism
Is flowing through my veins,
And I need the chance
To show my loyalty
To this country,
And its flag,
By killing those
Who do not stand
Beneath it.

It is my divine role in life,
To kill God's children
Because of nationality.

Another sacrifice
Is needed
For the great demon
Of America.
So bring on the virgin
For our pagan rite
Of patriotism!

a handful of lies, and a world full of actors
it's true,
i lied to you!

there is food
for the hungry.

there is shelter
for the homeless.

there is money
for the poor.

there is education
for the illiterate.

there is health care
for the sick.

and there is love
for the elderly.

i've been lying all along,
waiting for you to notice.

it's all a big play,
the poor, homeless, hungry people
are merely actors.

At times
I feel as if I want the world.
I long,
I lust,
I desire,
But then I see
All those who
Just need.

Why do I require excess
When others fail
To obtain necessities?

Is it necessary
To spend,
To buy,
To splurge,
To pamper,
When others
Cannot eat,
Cannot sleep,
Cannot stay healthy
And ultimately
Cannot live?

So many
It seems
Would rather indulge,
Then make sure
That others

literary suicide
So many times
upon the safe pages
of my poems,
I commit suicide.
I can only bring myself
to commit it here,
for here
I have the chance to be born again.
To live,
to learn,
to try and find fulfillment
and happiness
where I found none before.

It takes no bold soul
nor a crazy fool
to commit suicide
in words
upon a page.
A suicide of words
is not a physical end,
but only an emotional one.

Through birth
and rebirth of my soul
I grow
and learn to see my mistakes,
before they overwhelm
and drag me down
to a real death.

smile, so adored
I looked.
I studied.
I tried to understand.
But when I returned,
The face with the smile
I so adored
Turned into a snarl
That bit into my side.
The hands
I desired to hold
Turned into the hands
Holding daggers
Stabbing at my heart.
And the feet
I desired to wash
Turned into the feet
That raced far away,
Leaving me alone-
And I still stand
On the patch of sand
Where no one lives,
No one loves,
No one
Ever is.

the judiciary
the hour has come
when judgement
is to be made,
but the judge
has failed
to arrive.

but seriously
The laughing
Shook through the box,
As the announcer
Poured forth the words
That followed along
With the pictures -
Plastered in collages
Upon the screen.
Images of blankets
Wrapping around ragged bodies
For the last bursts of heat.
Uncontrollable laughter
Shook the background
As the camera
Unexpectedly shifted back
To the anchorman,
Shaking with laughter
Of some unknown punchline.

the victory song
"them commies have submitted
to the reign-supreme
of democracy.
we have shown those reds,
and kicked their butts
back into revolution !"
the falling
of a 74-year regime (1917-1991),
brings out
the "told-you-sos" and the "knew-it-all-alongs."
the collapsing of a country
with its people
and its culture,
raises the shouts of victory
and the heckling of defeat.
the demise of communism:
the end of the grand "Marxist Experiment"
has brought smiles to the faces
of the boob-toob-glued generation
of Americans,
who believe that their
red, white, & blue underwear
makes them winners,
among the "communist losers".
"We have kicked some commie ass,
and we can't rest
until them all be shopping
at American groceries,
and watching American T.V."
total lifespan 17:01:20
flag burning
wilted rosepetals

American Freak Show. Copyright © 1991 by Matte Elsbernd. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.