Herr come Count Ghouliani

“9-11 cigarettes, loose—
Got blood orange juice!
I got bone fragment,
Desiccated flesh,
Thermite-laden dust
Best 9-11 products,
In God we trust!”

“Step right up,
Get your 9-11 shirts and caps
9-11 speeches, photos, maps
Controlled demolition DVDs
Why, I even sell 9-11 PhDs
Simulated first responder cancers
Building 7… religious answers…
Get W’s 9-11 speech thru bullhorn
XXX-rated war-profiteer porn—
“Bad Guys with Box-cutters” song
Making Haliburton, Boeing strong!

Step right up my Freedom
Fry friends, this is where
The moral arc bends—
I am Count Ghouliani
With my 9-11 cart
Transforming hustling
Into a ghoulish art…
When I am not sucking
Blood from ‘black on
Black crime—’ on the
State’s dime, Ghouliani
Time, I live on my 9-11
Royalties-Il Duce loyalties…

I sell fine 9-11 red and white wine
In old bottles from along the Rhine
I’ll soon have my Charlie Hebdo line…
Yes, my 9-11 cart’s been a goldmine—
Sir, step out of line and read the sign:
I don’t do the Congo or Palestine!!

Former forklift driver/warehouse worker/janitor, Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet; BAR's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC. Read other articles by Raymond Nat, or visit Raymond Nat's website.