Dreams in Exile

the dream is for three of four
nations, or a splattering more,
dreams of exploration
the incipient id or super ego
only those with nuclear and genetic
time-bombs dream, reality TV
the galaxies of gourmet offerings
dream the frozen French five course
feasts, Merlot tucked away in box
dream the heaven at 11 pm
after the Ten O’clock news

pestilence of the moneyed, super
carbon eaters, the flesh each
micro-square worth a dozen barrels
crude each, ecological footprint
like a Goliath on steroids

who dreams in Peru, the water flows
poisoned by bombs, the making
of iPhones . . . who dreams in the whoring
streets, those bones like cod flayed
a million in Africa frozen, finished
as the nachos are drenched in the blood
of the dollar-a-day mommy, daddy
big Texas-sized toast, heart attack Burgerville

boys chipping at ocean liner hulls
each whiff of lead a syncopated pounding
of pigments stirred, cooked and laminated
for dreams, ’57 Chevys, ocean-liner
RVs, the undeniable double-titanium hips
while the heaps of guts and twisted plastic
serve the Filipino, boys and girls
drifting in and out of heap shanties
the dream big-eyed Americanos
glorious hot-dog day at Home Depot
laughing Koch Brothers, the Jewish
disease of hyper-exploitation, few

chosen to dream a Hawaii respite
or Carnival Cruise
while Gaza is mulled, pulverized
the whiff of billions locked in precision
guided racists’ dreams, joy sticks and robo-cops
Jews stuck in the hell of their technology
hyper contracts of AIPAC and Army

dream boy of Rose Bud reservation
not a chance as the big daddies
and mammas suck another home
in the woods, Florida for winter
dreams of Indiana spring
backhoes for the Laotian
keen deals by slobbering Europeans
the cheques of sin, each child
of Thai lined up for those
pedophile dreamers
German, Dutch, Japanese

dollars like tongues of monitor
lizards, the dragon of dreamers
in the West, civilized, courted
by the gadgets of war, Golan Heights
drifting paralysis in Afghanistan
some watery valley about to be
desiccated by the Euro-Australian-Canadian
miners, triple homes, first-class to Ghana
so many dreams in bottles, prescription dreams

who can dream in a non-revolutionary world
the shrink-wrapped lives of the even poor in
dreamland, the la-la land of the Bezos and Murdoch’s
zombie apocalypse of the Hollywood heathens
lifting the lies of people, the real people, in their
skits, their dreams . . . but who in Chicago dreams
with bullets flying
who in Detroit dreams in the receivership,
Camden, the projects, who dreams
the meth lab nightmare
somewhere in Nigeria, is that a dream?

spoiled goat, curdled blood, some
Somali rotting in a ditch, dreamers
of the defense industry, dream American
those putrid capitalists who sell bullets
for the craniums of children
cluster bombs and Saturday night fever
T.G.I.F. and America and Canada
sweats from the heaves, too many IPAs
some Coppola vintage, dream the
shit psycho-pathetic angst
of struggling millionaires, ennui
dream as the boy in Bangladesh watches
sister burn, the boy in Shanghai drifting asleep
frozen in lead slurry
the favela fury, each clip holstered
some Swedish deal, arms and bullets
loaves and fish
dream boy in Ivory Coast
the whip and the cocoa, the moon
under the bars of captivity
harvest for thirty cents a day
dreams of Hershey, Cadbury
the Halloween tricks
sprayed by Hondurans
dreams of Batman
the white phosphorus
precision propellers
of the drones of the dreamers

Paul Haeder's been a teacher, social worker, newspaperman, environmental activist, and marginalized muckraker, union organizer. Paul's book, Reimagining Sanity: Voices Beyond the Echo Chamber (2016), looks at 10 years (now going on 17 years) of his writing at Dissident Voice. Read his musings at LA Progressive. Read (purchase) his short story collection, Wide Open Eyes: Surfacing from Vietnam now out, published by Cirque Journal. Here's his Amazon page with more published work Amazon. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.