These Infants Rule All Things on Thanksgiving Day

all witness 'day of sorrow' white man blues

Neo untribes, out of the Black Friday
blues, they sing for Big Gulps
roller coasters at the mall
they are heaving with their chicken
wings, smeared pepper and punch
diapers filled with the germs of capitalism
the elites watch this play out in pimped
out Playboy box seats

they drive big cars, force me into curb
one jerk on a bike, yelled out, on their
roads, for fun, swerve into me
soon to be uploaded YouTube, guy on bike
one finger up, laugh, they drive madly

big fucking day of buying
insipid heroes on TV, in helmets
boob-tube sit-coms, the talentlessness
is rampant, everything neon and
goofy, broken laws, broken covenants,
amateurs at everything, the pleasure
in the pixel, streaming shit

they belly laugh at thoughts
of old guy talking over this day of sorrow
first peoples gang raped by Christians
followed with debt murder by Jews
the winners write history, take
land, the white culture ghosts
a love story with money
markets maladies madness death

where are they now
these first peoples, never got
the message to survive, move
into 20th century, take the shit
forget those wigwams and sweats
this is digital world, get with it, land
boys, lovers of nostalgia, night magic
your days over, Turtle Island Sea World!

we are the survivors, white puritan Zio-con
evangelical missionary about to pull the plug
on five billion of your brothers, sisters
move out of the way for double triple
ripoff, big sale America, toilet paper’s free
Santa’s helpers, retail felons, delivered to bedroom
mister Bezos, Amazon, deliver it all
instant messaging, IKEA and burgers
keep that beer cold, Mister Drone

twenty-five percent off, free shipping
tell those Indians the days of feathers
beaded pouches, all that jangle dancing
over, make way for us, makers of toys
engineers of everything you can buy
today throw away before two moons
pass, the power of the Junk Monster god

say it, say uncle, you lost
every white man-woman-child
deserving, real human, worth
protecting, the only ones allowed
to suffer, allowed to float in clean air
we are the winners . . . . the First People?
props in this game, Capitalism
our culture, everything you
need to know who you are
guarded by the bombers

National Day of Sorrow
my ass, we burned Tokyo
to the ground, brothers of fire
B-29 liberators, mushroom Nazi’s
toys and goo, a culture floating
backward, the un-Genesis, all
creatures big and small, later
days, we have those GMO farms
and fish grafted with shut off genes
from eels and potato mold
engineered into Salmon

we can bury people alive
bury all the crimes, re-script
your history, make the world
empty of ideas, only money
talks, dead Navajos made
for video games, some silliness
in the schools, soon to be piped
into your homes, Microsoft, Pearson Publishing
the engines of the Great Forgetting

your lives already washed of truth
we are doomed, but we can play
until the very end, gas masks
for the few, the sky filled with hydrogen
sulfide, 1,000 ppm C02, what more
do you need to know we are gods
we stop ocean currents, life as we
know it, gone, stopped in 500 years
gods while you play with baskets and sing
with sage, we are gods of plastic, junk,
gods of the great forgetting
as you remember a time never lived
we are gods, white brothers-sisters say
your DNA will be our next frontier

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.