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The left hand is holding something
very valuable.

You need what is in the left hand…

Keep looking at it, the left hand
sure to contain that which will—

Thanks, I’ll see you later, and the
interaction ends.

Weeks later, you check your piggy
bank and notice all the money is gone.

I stole your money with my right
hand, as you looked at my left hand.

But the left hand was important—we
needed it to survive!

“We killed them in the interest of
National Security.”

“We stole the documents in the interest
of National Security.”

“For the furtherance of Democracy and
Freedom, we invaded the country
and deposed their horrible leader.”

The pious fraud, better than God—it
makes okay every single sin so
sin away!

Because in the end, friend—the end
justifies every mean thing we do
or say!

We are the CIA!!  The FBI, we’ve got
your back!  We keep you safe, so
you can just live out your day, it’s
on us!!

“We go where others cannot go,
accomplish what others cannot
accomplish,” says CIA on Twitter
to us schmucks—us, the lowly
American with normal people rights.

Those agents with super-people rights!

Wow, can I be one of them?

Sure, here are the steps:

1. Have a shitty childhood where truth
is on edge or upside down, Dad drinks
and love is scarce.
2. Go to an Ivy League school, get good
at computers—join a Fraternity, get good
at telling and keeping secrets.
3. Secret Society membership is a plus.
4. We like Patriots, who can put “country
before anything else.”  Even God.
5. Don’t believe in God—he or she cannot
keep America safe.  Only we can.

***

Stop to take a breath.

6. Get used to lying.
7. Lie to yourself, God and others
every day.

***

We lie in the interest of National Security.

(National Security is often code for
“not embarrassing the Agency.”)

You might fall into a crack, if it’s
wet enough.

Pregnancy is another thing, altogether.

The Wife of Your Youth is most likely
behind you, but we make due with the
me and you we have in front of us.

You, too?

“Ready, shoot, aim” is the plan of
the orange, golf-playing orangutan “president” —
unless a Russian is calling the shots from
across the sea, look at me,

The MS-13 gang members are “animals?”

Yes, so are we.

You mean it as a curse?

So was it a curse for CIA to support the
killers of El Salvador’s archbishop, Oscar
Romero in 1980.

MS-13 came from his ashes.  And there,
an American “president” bags on the guys
our own murder created.

Bags on immigrants in an immigrant
country like the dis-United States.

Great Spirit, native spirit, the mother
Earth reaching out to touch us, but
your motorcycle gets in the way,
helicopter blades and sirens ruining
the day.

Shhhhhhh!

God wants to talk with us, we could
make him or her king!

Ignore Samuel and his walk to
the top of the mountain to
represent us.

“Jews will not replace us” the rally
call of hate, which comes from fear,
which produces anger—

all leading to suffering over time,
Yoda from Star Wars stopping on a dime.

Eternal life!

To secure and clean L.A. outside our
means because the rich council can’t
see it yet.  The mayor choked by his
tie, all a cliché of what Mom wants,
when she doesn’t really know what
she wants, going from high to high,

and when not high…

duck.

Ready, shoot, aim… Trump is drunk
with the buck so duck, it’s MS-13
that are the “animals!!”

So lock your door, another prejudice
is coming.

Ends and means line up, the pious fraud
catching up; we’re trying to evolve,
God help us to with your will align.

Today.

The only day, sublime, it’s wet when
slippery—slippery when wet.

The curse we all feel when we let…

her get away.  The wife of our youths,
we let her go.

Our forefathers stealing native land, we
let our own mother go!

“We’ll see what happens,” there’s
always another side to a story!

The real Gold was Native American wisdom,
not the yellow rock in Georgia, made them
march away and cry,

a trail of tears brought on by Trump’s
idol, Mr. Jackson, stick a needle in
their eye.

My mother said to pick the very best
one and Trump is not it.

Easy targets.

Ready, shoot, aim!

We’ll see what happens.  Kill Kennedy,
Martin, the other Kennedy, Romero
and Lennon,

and we’ll do it again…

***

unless.

Unless, says the Dr. Seuss Lorax when
hoping against hope.

Lao Tzu smiling the smile of
the longevity god, oval-headed and
jovial in the night before an unknown
dawn, the magic of change
in the birth of babies and a new day!

It’s slippery when wet!!

It had better be, if you want to
see us multiply and a future supply,

mountains moving from there to here
because fasting and praying was not
just for the religious but for the wise.

The atheist must sigh.

“The power greater than me has a name,
just stop calling it God.”

Without saying a word, the baby
just is.  The uncarved block, the truth—

sex for the celibate.

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