(87 year-old man to his great-grandson)

I speak to you of history

of facts

But you are having

none of that

They have taught you instead

to avoid facts

As facts get in the way

of your career

I speak to you of art but

you are into design

The computer has become

your culture

I fought against Hitler & the Nazis

you haven’t a clue

I speak to you of injustice

against women

And you reply you are

pro choice

I ask you to consider the planet

you see it as a market

I tell you of the wars of the sixties

you say you have the CDs

I want you to think about ideas

you say it’s all in the data

When you were four I gave you

your first real book

At twenty-four you read for self-help

so you can prey upon others

I should take my gun from the wars

and put an end to you

Before you make everything

so much more worse

Yet I still have these foolish hopes

you will reject all this evil

That you will learn to think and act

like a human being

You say I am old and full of hate

but you are hatefulness itself

You talk of political correctness

I know about right and wrong

I will not give in to death because you

have already canceled me out

I must live to see the world

as it would have been

Long ago if we had lost that first war

if I had died in it

If we had never had your mother

if you had never been born

If I knew then what I know now

making all of it meaningless

And that is what you want it to be

isn’t it?

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, VT.

66 years old and nobody’s

cutting your funding

must be nice to be an atom bomb

and not have to worry about

whether you’ll get your next

Social Security check

well I hope they’re taking

good care of you

you being so old now

wouldn’t want you to fall down

and break something

yeah these young punk WMDs

didn’t know what the world was like

when you were born

back then they treated you

with respect and handled you

like the delicate baby you were

now they just slap together

some plutonium and deuterium

stick it in a warhead and add on

an order of fries

sad

well we’ve got all this nuclear

waste and all kinds of radioactive

crud that needs to be used

for something

they don’t make ’em like you

anymore old baby boy

happy birthday

you get around on a cane now

watch yourself crossing the streets

and when some punk WMD comes rapping

on to you about how cool he is

you tell him–listen sonny

just hope you never get blown up

I’ve lost a lot of friends that way

you know with all that’s going on

in the world I almost forgot

about you and your birthday

funny the things you forget

you take care now

and stay inside

there’s some bad stuff in the air

coming from Japan

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, VT.

(and say hello to Vishnu for us)

(On the Republican marriage ‘pledge’…Or…Slavery as ‘Retro’  Ya know, Hitler & his bunch did this in the ’20s & ’30s.  When you put out an outrageous idea over and over again, even if sometimes you say: “Oops, sorry about that one,” eventually the outrageous idea becomes part of what’s the norm.  Then gas chambers become acceptable. )

John Brown didn’t know

blacks would be better off

on the plantation

where a poor black child

didn’t come from

a broken home

he didn’t know

a black child would need

soldiers to take her to school

that some white folks would force

a black child to marry

outside her God-given race

that all this would lead

to rioting and looting

and the occasional lynching

John Brown didn’t know shit

about the value of being

bonded to your own people

that these chains of bondage

were actually a freedom

from everyday woe

according to John Brown

it’s good for a black child

to be hooked on crack

live in a ghetto not knowing

who mommy and daddy are

until she dies of AIDS

but we now make the pledge

to change all that

to go back to the good old days

when a black child lived carefree

and was secure in her place

with her mommy and daddy

when all black people

were our precious little childs

watched over by us their guardians

back when women too

walked the righteous walk

and did their duty without woe

oh this woe John Brown!

you flaming socialist abortionist!

abolition to your hateful legacies!

we pledge now to turn back the clock

on John Brown’s Godless revolution

restore the love of proper order

now and forever we pledge

no black child will walk the streets

with a hate-filled heart

because John Brown didn’t know

what would come to pass

when finally our eyes

have seen the Glory!

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

yes let’s celebrate revolution

freedom of speech and religion

the right to a fair and speedy

trial by a jury of twelve peers

freedom from fear and want

the right to assemble in groups

for a redress of grievances

the checks and balances which

insure protection from plunder

by government taxation or unlawful

activities in the private sector

the pursuit of happiness

the freedom to love and partner

regardless of race or gender

the right to object strongly to

and not participate in an unjust war

freedom of the press and access

to all necessary information

the right to seek and hold office

without being restrained from doing

so by economic or political influences

yes and the absolute unabridged right

to vote in all elections and on all

issues by secure and secret ballot

and to have each and every vote counted

o and how about the right to hold

all elected and appointed officials

accountable for their actions or inactions

why hell the freedom to seek gainful

education and employment without

pregudicial restrictions and the right

to keep and bear arms responsibly

the total unbiased freedom of all legitimate

ventures and the non-discriminatory use of

lawful authority for the public health and safety

yeah all that good stuff and much much more

now tell me please where the hell do I have

to go to live such a wonderful life?  what’s

the name of this wonderful place?

hello?………………………….

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, VT.

The Unbearable Fecklessness Of Being

(Like man the young can teach the old–Words of wisdom about the ‘karma’ of Fukushima from the Nuclear Regulatory Commission’s new twenty-something PR DUDE.)

well like all this responsibility

stuff is like soooo sixties man

so the fucking reactor broke a little?

no biggie  haven’t you ever

had your coffee maker glitch-out?

and what about the brakes on your car?

man like shit happens  get over it

you didn’t get your Social Security check?

hey man those people are really stressed

it’s all this responsibility crap

that makes all the world’s problems

you ought to lighten up and chill

go with the flow and stop bitching

like times have changed man

you have some kind of superiority complex?

you ought to sign up for my Workshop

it’s very Zen  all about how responsibility

is responsible for making people uptight

and nervous and prone to fuck-up even more

throw the Earth’s karma out of whack

make everybody feel like they’ve got to

fix everything  man if it ain’t broke

don’t fix it  and if it is broke

well who fucking like gives a shit?

look at our leaders  do you see them

getting all ripped about every little thing?

like this global warming?  so what the fuck?

you fucking like winter man?  and the wars?

those are because everybody’s telling

everybody about being responsible

like they’re somebody’s mother or something

when you go with the flow you don’t

get all stressed and then you don’t fuck-up

and like everything takes care of itself

cause I’m telling you man…I don’t need

to hear another goddamn radiation rap man

I’m doing maybe the best I can at this shitty job

they’re not paying me enough for more stress

I like think Barack Obama is really cool

he’s not into this responsibility trip

he’s going with the flow and I’ll bet you

he takes a few good hits now and then

maybe that’s what you need man?  I can get

you some really good shit  mellow your stress

make you hip and hop into the twenty-first century  

and look at things the way they ought to be

looked at  like who gives a fuck about anything

anymore?  right?  you need to get laid man

like I know this seventeen year old chick…

man…responsibility?  some kind of word they

ought to politically correct out of our language

radiation?  like I give a flying shit-fuck

it’ll just go away  like everything else does

man don’t you have more important things

to worry about?  like going to the mall

and buying yourself some duds that don’t

make you look so frigging OLD man?

I’ve got to go now  and like if I hit someone

driving home or cause a ten car pile-up with

people killed or whatever…well shit happens

I work for the fucking government  you think

I’m going to get fired from this shit-eating

job because somebody got dead?  get real man

you can’t change the whole fucking world

so forget about it  only fucking God can like

change the world and I guess if He wanted to

the dude would have done it already

why don’t you get on His case about radiation man?

and make Him stop all this fucking rain  

for some reason it’s making me itch  go figure    

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt…man

 Put That Fucking Thing Away!!!

       (by Harry Dean Stanton)

cell phone ugly dildo dipshit asshole

can’t have a real live conversation

anymore cause calls and texts

keep coming not to mention

he’s in a big hurry today and he’s

a very important person he is

here in the library they lock

the bathroom door get out the phone

and make a few calls  busy busy

like to smash your little phone

to little pieces  make you eat them

cell phone All American asshole

almost got run over in the crosswalk

cause cell phone dildo is driving

as an afterthought and oops he gestures

so sorry I almost killed you but I had

to take this call  very very important

and you shouldn’t be walking anyway

where’s your car?  are you a terrorist?

sitting on the bench with a good book

along comes cell phone asshole

to stand and talk right there in front

of me like I want to hear his frigging

important conversation  like to beat

him to death with my cane  stick cell phone

up his ass which he probably does to himself  

all the time  phone sex being all the rage now

the All American need to appear more

important than life itself  your credit card

holding up the line at the corner store

and you talking on your teeny tiny phone

which is probably bigger than your dick

even if you knew how to fuck  and I’ll bet

even if you could it would be a quickie

cause you’d have all those calls coming

yes I want you dead cell phone dildo

dipshit asshole  I want to kill you with

my second hand smoke which you claim

is polluting the environment while you

yak it up on your little phone with some

other cell phone dipshit about the gadgets

you both bought at WalMart’s 4 am sale

you lowlife cell phone-aholic piece of shit

your IQ all in your clothes and a gadget

to do your thinking for you and probably

also wipe your ass for you when you go

to take a really runny one and make a call

I go to the bar for some action and start

talking to this babe and her phone goes off

she has to take this call  most very important

who the fuck is calling you here sister

the guy down at the other end of the bar?

I look around and everybody is on their goddamn

little teeny tiny phones  enough to make

a man drink but I can’t get one cause

the bartender is on his asshole little phone too

guess I’ll go talk to the pigeons cause at least

they listen but the fucking teenagers and

twenty-something shitheads have taken over

the benches again and guess what?  that’s

right  they’ll all talking on their teeny phones

about how life sucks and it ain’t worth

getting a job cause with global warming

we’ll all be dead soon and if that is so

I’ll bet when I get to Hell everyone there

will be talking on their teeny tiny dildo

dipshit asshole phones for all fucking eternity

nice  something to look forward to

now  put that fucking thing away!

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, VT.

and then there’s this one:

 The Predator Generation

(The aggressive cigarette-bumming style of the youth of Montpelier and America)

no we don’t have jobs

or intend to get them

or even look

you got an extra cigarette?

haven’t you heard old man

we’re the new lost generation

the new dharma bums

or just plain bums

worked for Kerouac

we’ve all read him

got any spare change?

these lattes cost a fortune

you old people have fucked-up

the country and the world

you’re makin’ the planet die

I wanted to be a CEO

now I’ll never even collect

fuckin’ Social Security

you got a cigarette for my friend?

hell I’m not goin’ to work

on some shit job

just to make you happy

might as well just hang

go on Food Stamps

do they have disability

for a guy my age?

didn’t think so

shit

yeah I could volunteer

to help change things

participate in real life

and all that bullshit

help the really needy

but they don’t have cigarettes

you got a light for this cigarette?

that’s a nice lighter

can I have it?

fuckin’A man life’s a bitch

I’d go back to school

but it all sucks

rather just hang here

maybe there’ll be a party

wanna come old man?

an old dude like you

would be a real trip

you’ve got the money

to buy the beer

the wine and the booze

and the cigarettes

you got another?

hey chill old man

I’ve got no fuckin’ future

you had yours

and you fucked-up mine

you fuckin’ owe me

this is a knife man

now gimme your wallet

and your cigarettes

fuckin’ old guy

too fuckin’ many of you

walkin’ around

with your money your jobs

and your cigarettes

you ought to learn

how to share

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

“Today, my fellow Armenians, we almost celebrate the almost 70th anniversary of the American landings in North Africa which broke the German-Arab hold on the nations of Egypt and Palestine, and made America’s victory, two years later, over Japanese controlled Red China and Tibet, the beginning of the end of the beginning again once and almost for all.

I’m here today, wherever it is, to say to you that, had it been for those brave Americans who joined the National Guards in 1942 to march across the endless frozen and bitter cold wastelands of those North African deserts to insert our flag inside the Suez Canal, we’d be at the mercy of the Japanese oil barons who still taboo atomic power after the accidents, in 1945 and 1946, at their nuclear power plants in Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and Bikinis.

Today, we see again in North Africa, a conflict enfluxing the world in more nonstableness and disability, and blocking the establishment of a free democratic and kosher Jewish state in Iraq.  Those Americans who fought under our great general, Ernie Rommel, would remember that, had it been for them, Hitler, Stalin and Fellini would have taken over the entire automotive industry in the Middle East, forcing us to buy itty-bitty cars made in Japan by itty-bitty Japanese eating itty-bitty fish heads.

So leave us always to remember history, because, if we don’t, someone else will remember where we left it when we forgot it.  And that someone will probably be a Jap.  

Today, as our troops gather in Afghanistan for the long awaited penetration of the Japanese mainland, I want us to offer prayers for victory over a people who crash their planes discrimatorically and terroristically into the fabric of the heritage that our Found Fathers wrote in blood on their hands at Gettysburg.  Had it been for our Founded Fathers, I don’t know how we could have stopped the Japanese from making the fish head, as opposite the bald egret, our National Anthem.  And making us play banzai instead of baseball.

We are a nation united by an uncommon and yet untoward history of resisting the aggression of those who would seek to make us think every other way.  And, as you all know over there and out here, we have not yet begun to think.  

So, think about it, today, on this Day Of Infamy, June 6, 2011.  As another great general of ours, Bob Hope, once said: ‘Thanks for the memories,’ because without memories there can only be peace, and that’s not what we’re fighting for.

As I tour this Nation Under God, I promise to take my own memory in hand to think of things unthought of and to speak of things unheard of, so that all of you can be free to remember what I said and left unsaid, and know that you’re not thinking about remembering any where near as much as me or as much as you think you remember you are thinking you were, and to thank God you live in a nation where there will always be great Americans to help do your thinking for you.  I think.

There are those that would make fun of our history and our remembering of it and our thinking of it, but they will never forget nearly any where near what we have forgotten that I can remember to think of.  So don’t let them think we don’t know what they’re thinking, lest we find ourselves living under the Swastika of Japan, driving itty-bitty cars to fast fish head restaurants all over the hollow ground where our Funded Fathers found the handwriting on the wall and sent men on horseback to gather the arms of the hands in was written on forever in gory.

Thank you.  God Bless The USA!  And Remember The Alamo!–I love that team!”

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(Inspired by comments on Memorial Day posts.)

   Marketing Meeting Bullets

We have the fashions and we have the photos.

Just look at Ms. Vermont National Guard.

Ain’t she hot holding that compress to her breast?

I mean, this will sell itself–Support The Troops.

War is Sexy–War is Powerful–War is IN!

I’ve done all the work–The Youth Market.

And the kiddies–they’ll want the camos for Daycare.

Look at this–an armored ‘Smart’ SUV.  It seeks out Malls.

These Lean Mean Real Bloodstain Jeans–Wear ’em to hip-hop concerts.

I’ve got Vanity Fair and Vogue.  And a page in the Times.

And all the cool youth mags, including the Goth ones.

We can go with this next week.  In time for the 4th.

I’m tellin’ you, it’ll be bigger than Rock ‘n’ Roll!

Wouldn’t you like to fuck Ms. Vermont National Guard?

In the backseat of an armored Mall-seeking SUV?

The whole country gone nuts on a new kind of Sex.

Rap songs and movies and TV and even goddamn books.

Better than that Vampire/Zombie shit.

I’m getting the hard-on graphics on the victims too.

Rape and sexy refugees.  Salacious slaughter and pillage.

And when this takes off, then we can do the weapons.

The Pentagon will want in on this.  Shoot its load.

Even the Christians–they love fuckin’ War!

So, are we agreed?–I mean War is our new Viagra.

Americans want New Sex.  Never-ending Sex through Never-ending War.

Ok, get one of the girls to bring in some drinks–the one with the Tits.

Remember the Fifties, guys?  All those boobs?

Shit.  Marilyn Monroe jumping out of an Apache?

The whip from the rotors blowing her vest off.

And legs.  We’ll make a fortune with the mini fatigues.

It’s all about Eye Candy, boys.  It’s all about War.

Goddamn!  When the Nukes start, I’ve got a great idea!

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

a bloody hamburger

smoke from the grills

the game on channel 3

beer cans in the road

a politician grins

children scream

traffic piles up

radios go ballistic

stores have sales

the three day party

yes I remember you

seen your face before

belly-up at Betio

numbed out in the Nam

blown to little pieces

over the decades

so all Americans equally

could have this day off

there’s these parades

the kids love them

some one is selling flags

an ambush in Afghanistan

we hope it won’t rain

you hope it won’t hurt

when they take off your leg

ship you home on crutches

thanks for everything dudes

we honor and salute you

it was worth dying for

just look at all that food

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(Couldn’t resist–PB)

Dear Journal Of Mine,

It’s lonely being a terrorist.  I miss those long walks in Mecca with Ari.  I miss those wonderful nights at the Sheik’s palace, counting money and listening to Bob Dylan.  Sometimes, we got to behead an agent from the IDF.  Those were the days.  I miss my camel and my Rolls.

You know, sometimes I wonder what it’s all about.  I’ve been having these Deep Thoughts lately.  If I were an American, I’d probably be rich and famous like Mitt Romney or Donald Trump.  Hanging out with sexy actresses like Jennifer Aniston and Sarah Jessica Parker.  Throw out the first bomb…I mean, baseball on Opening Day at Yankee Stadium.  Do a rap song with Common.  See Blue Man Group in Vegas.  Ahhhh…I don’t know.  I feel like I’ve wasted my life.  I could have been somebody, a contender, instead of just a terrorist, which is what I am.  The Sheik, he should have looked out for me.

But no, here I sit again with my Journal.  I feel like Emily Dickinson.  I can’t even go on Facebook.  Or blog something on BROADSIDES or COUNTERPUNCH.  Even under the handle I made for myself: progressive-in-vt.  Shit.  I’ve always wanted to go there.  Eat Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and hang out in Montpelier with Bernie Sanders.  Go to Charlie Os and be a pool shark like Paul Newman in The Hustler.  Take a horse-drawn sleigh ride in Stowe, and stiff Michael Colby on the tip.  But here I sit, waiting for the Sheik’s orders.  And he doesn’t contact me.  Not even a lousy Christmas Card.  Last one I got was almost 3 years ago, and all it said was:  “Happy Holidays, Binster!  Hang in there.  This is me and Bathi in our Matching Christmas Sweaters we got at Wal-Mart when Bush had us over to watch the elections in D.C..  Cool hanh?  Listen, don’t bomb D.C..  We may be invited back.  And don’t bomb anything in Alaska either.  Keep chilled, dude.  I’ll be in touch.”  And that’s it.  So I’m stuck knocking around all day in this mansion thinking about the meaning of life.  I’ve read all the self-help books and now I’m reading Kerouac and Bukowski.  I’m bummed.

I wonder if Allah is dead?  I wonder if you explode a bomb in the forest and nobody’s there to hear it, does it make a big ka-Booom?  Why is every explosion different, like snowflakes?  Is my glass half empty or half full?  And why don’t people care anymore?  How can I make somebody care?

“Dear Sarah,

I’ll bet you never expected to hear from me again, but I can’t take it anymore.  Lately, I’ve been thinking about 72 virgins.  I want to hold your hand and go shopping for clothes with you.  Just the simple things in life.  A little house or cabin in the woods outside Hardwick, Vermont.  Our own organic vegetable garden.  Maple syrup and fiddleheads on a properly slaughtered goat.  Running for the School Board.  Shoveling snow and bitching about the town Selectmen.  Talking to the Jehovah’s Witnesses on Saturday morning.  Going to yard sales.  And filling out the Doyle Poll.”  Ahhhh…

She won’t care either.  All right.  It’s time for the Quran.  But it’s so boooorrring!  Hey, I know!  I should do an updated version–Sex And The City And The Koran!  Something hip and now.  With a lot of pictures of Jennifer Aniston half-naked.  Make Muhammad a stud.  Hell, I’ll have half the men in America alone converting and beheading the other half.  And I’ll make a fortune!  Movie deals and TV.  I’ll be on Jon Stewart with Bernie Sanders.  And Julia Roberts.  And Dolly Parton–Yeah, what a pair of hooters!  Do you suppose Dolly would let me…hmmm?  Shit man!  And T-shirts and ballcaps and a micro-brew named after me–binBrewski, Laden Lager.  10 bucks a pint at the Three Penny Taproom!  And those sleigh rides in Stowe, listening to Colby rave about liberal fucks and revolution.  Beheading Ralph Nader!  Hell, I’m going to get right to work on this…

“What’s that, Achmed?”

“No, I wasn’t expecting company.  Oh hell, let them in.  They look like the Jehovah’s Witnesses.  They’ve come at last!  Allah Be Praised……………………………….

Peter Buknatski

Montpelier, Vt.

(Thank you, Salman Rushdie!)