Full Blotto Again Poem by jerome moore

dinning in the wine glass, its cheap

Jimmy says to me
'Relax kid,
dames come and go,
let em!
nothing keeps you warm at night
like a bottle of scotch,
and it dont talk back neither'
And the pamphleteers click their heels to the rev rev revolution, counter clicks chanting a tragicomical cha cha in the spriit of sacco and venzetti.
The spider women patch up our social unions, with Goldman waves in their hair. Helen Keller reading from their well embroidered quilt.
The workers discuss economics and property, Marx-like oiling the machinery.
They march, but not to destroy!
They dance, but not the dance to death!
They sing out but not out of tune!
They chant and drum, locked spirits in solidarity.
Under earthly clouds that look like Gandhi and Che, Huey Newton and Malcolm X
Denizens flout the banksters, thumbs to the air from ruby noses,
passing shoulder to shoulder the maudlin ladies of unbridaled appetite, whos faces are in the blender.
The kids who sleep on the crusts of the street venders peddling Bakunin to the holes left in the wall.

In lady liberty reflects a femme fatale, while sleepy dreamers wait for godot.
and the sponsored law derisively cracking peace like a tin egg,
with drug deals going down in Harlem.


I take action to my breast and she has vanished in my cataract passion, spirit of my being, heart of my house, she opens her blue umbrella which seems to be lost in the sky, tragedienne, audaciously taunting the NYPD her Artimus bow strung with chortling and yelps, her legs bursting out of her red dress. mother revolution, She is in the air.
full blotto!
and I took my rights for a walk.