Remembering the Victims and Heroes of 9/11

yes,
us people are just poems
we're 90% metaphor
with a leanness of meaning
approaching hyper-distillation
and once upon a time
we were moonshine
rushing down the throat of a giraffe
yes, rushing down the long hallway
despite what the p.a. announcement says
yes, rushing down the long stairs
with the whiskey of eternity
fermented and distilled
to eighteen minutes
burning down our throats
down the hall
down the stairs
in a building so tall
that it will always be there
yes, it's part of a pair
there on the bow of noah's ark
the most prestigious couple
just kickin back parked
against a perfectly blue sky
on a morning beatific
in its indian summer breeze
on the day that america
fell to its knees
after strutting around for a century
without saying thank you
or please

and the shock was subsonic
and the smoke was deafening
between the setup and the punch line
cuz we were all on time for work that day
we all boarded that plane for to fly
and then while the fires were raging
we all climbed up on the windowsill
and then we all held hands
and jumped into the sky

and every borough looked up when it heard the first blast
and then every dumb action movie was summarily surpassed
and the exodus uptown by foot and motorcar
looked more like war than anything i've seen so far
so far
so far
so fierce and ingenious
a poetic specter so far gone
that every jackass newscaster was struck dumb and stumbling
over 'oh my god' and 'this is unbelievable' and on and on
and i'll tell you what, while we're at it
you can keep the pentagon
keep the propaganda
keep each and every tv
that's been trying to convince me
to participate
in some prep school punk's plan to perpetuate retribution
perpetuate retribution
even as the blue toxic smoke of our lesson in retribution
is still hanging in the air
and there's ash on our shoes
and there's ash in our hair
and there's a fine silt on every mantle
from hell's kitchen to brooklyn
and the streets are full of stories
sudden twists and near misses
and soon every open bar is crammed to the rafters
with tales of narrowly averted disasters
and the whiskey is flowin
like never before
as all over the country
folks just shake their heads
and pour

so here's a toast to all the folks who live in palestine
afghanistan
iraq

el salvador

here's a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
under the stone cold gaze of mt. rushmore

here's a toast to all those nurses and doctors
who daily provide women with a choice
who stand down a threat the size of oklahoma city
just to listen to a young woman's voice

here's a toast to all the folks on death row right now
awaiting the executioner's guillotine
who are shackled there with dread and can only escape into their heads
to find peace in the form of a dream

cuz take away our playstations
and we are a third world nation
under the thumb of some blue blood royal son
who stole the oval office and that phony election
i mean
it don't take a weatherman
to look around and see the weather
jeb said he'd deliver florida, folks
and boy did he ever

and we hold these truths to be self evident:
#1 george w. bush is not president
#2 america is not a true democracy
#3 the media is not fooling me
cuz i am a poem heeding hyper-distillation
i've got no room for a lie so verbose
i'm looking out over my whole human family
and i'm raising my glass in a toast

here's to our last drink of fossil fuels
let us vow to get off of this sauce
shoo away the swarms of commuter planes
and find that train ticket we lost
cuz once upon a time the line followed the river
and peeked into all the backyards
and the laundry was waving
the graffiti was teasing us
from brick walls and bridges
we were rolling over ridges
through valleys
under stars
i dream of touring like duke ellington
in my own railroad car
i dream of waiting on the tall blonde wooden benches
in a grand station aglow with grace
and then standing out on the platform
and feeling the air on my face

give back the night its distant whistle
give the darkness back its soul
give the big oil companies the finger finally
and relearn how to rock-n-roll
yes, the lessons are all around us and a change is waiting there
so it's time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets
and clear the air
get our government to pull its big dick out of the sand
of someone else's desert
put it back in its pants
and quit the hypocritical chants of
freedom forever

cuz when one lone phone rang
in two thousand and one
at ten after nine
on nine one one
which is the number we all called
when that lone phone rang right off the wall
right off our desk and down the long hall
down the long stairs
in a building so tall
that the whole world turned
just to watch it fall

and while we're at it
remember the first time around?
the bomb?
the ryder truck?
the parking garage?
the princess that didn't even feel the pea?
remember joking around in our apartment on avenue D?

can you imagine how many paper coffee cups would have to change their design
following a fantastical reversal of the new york skyline?!

it was a joke, of course
it was a joke
at the time
and that was just a few years ago
so let the record show
that the FBI was all over that case
that the plot was obvious and in everybody's face
and scoping that scene
religiously
the CIA
or is it KGB?
committing countless crimes against humanity
with this kind of eventuality
as its excuse
for abuse after expensive abuse
and it didn't have a clue
look, another window to see through
way up here
on the 104th floor
look
another key
another door
10% literal
90% metaphor
3000 some poems disguised as people
on an almost too perfect day
should be more than pawns
in some asshole's passion play
so now it's your job
and it's my job
to make it that way
to make sure they didn't die in vain
sshhhhhh....
baby listen
hear the train?

Ani Defranco - Self Evident

I do the same thing every year
usually i post it in the early hours of the morning
but i got to sleep in today

I am hereby declaring today to be "International Poetic Justice and Karma Appreciation Day",

The Eleventh of September IS International Poetic Justice and Karma Appreciation Day

When we take the time to recognized that there are consequences or playing god, and those who make a habit of playing with fire wind up with ashes.

I was asleep at my dads place in china lake CA. and the phone rang and my dad answered and said my finance was freaking out about something and tossed me the phone. When I grogly answer my finance immediately started talking very excitedly about how a plane had just ran into the one of the towers and that it was a terrorist attack. I was all like no I'm sure its just a freak accident, some kind of malfunction with the plane. As I'm saying this to her I notice on the television screen there is another plane flying around and I start to think Hmmm WTF is that doing so low? and it did a big loop and just ran strait into the other tower. Then I knew it was premeditated and was essentially glued to the TV for the remainder of that day. I don't think I left the house that day at all. Oh and I had a flight out to Australia the following month and man was LAX fucking crazy. They had tanks blocking the roads in to the airport a 1/4 mile out and were not allowing any traffic passed that point I had to have my dad drop me there and walk the rest of the way in while being stopped 3 times by national guard asking for everything from passports to tickets. It was surreal.

Why don't we honor the memory of the people that died on 9/11 by reopening the totally unanswered questions that remain (like why are some of the hijackers still alive? or why did building 7 collapse? etc. etc.) from that day and prosecuting any governments or corporations that may have been in collusion to profit off this event or the coming war?

Wouldn't THAT be a good way to honor those men and women? By getting the truth and prosecuting war crimes offenders? I think so.

I had just given a speech at a conference in Colorado Springs and was walking through the lobby of the hotel when I saw people clustered around a big television set with the strangest expressions I had ever seen. Once we realized what happened, the hotel was abuzz with rumors that similar planes were targeting Los Angeles. I found a rental car and drove 800 miles back to Montana. Halfway through Wyoming I was pulled over by a cop who was waiting at the bottom of a long hill to catch people who couldn't fly home because all flights were grounded. The ticket was $200. I remember thinking it was such a small thing...and then wondered what kind of mentality it took to set up a speed trap on 9/11.