SLIMY GREEN CESSPOOL REFLECTING CAPITALIST RULE

by Raymond Nat Turner

AI-generated graphic by NightCafé for The New Verse News.

Capitalism says corporations are people… It says,

Money’s speech… Buying, bossing, sock-puppet

politicians on Capitalist Hill; White Supreme Court; and

Offal Office’s corrupt cabinet of Epstein class War House.

Capitalism pulled One Big Beautiful Bank Job, stage whispering, 

DOGE really means Department Of Grifter Enrichment! Then,

boasted about looting fruits of our labor; while its Cruel Reich Cult 

casually kills on our streets and strolls unaccountable into the sunset.

Capitalism’s painting our streets crimson, killing class bothers and sisters 

San Diego to Maine. Turning cobwebbed warehouses into torture, murder,

Mengele Medicine hells. Bombing humble boats full of fish on the high seas.

Reducing apartment buildings, hospitals, schools teeming with dreams to rubble…

Capitalism crowned a chainsaw prancing prince of apartheid

First Techno-Fascist Trillionaire. And celebrated his warped

worldview of spastic stiff salutes and spit-shined jackboots—

Mirroring the stinky, slimy green, cesspool—reflecting capitalist rule.

The stinky, slimy green, cesspool—reflecting capitalist rule

Mirroring testosterone-intoxicated, pomade man, obeying orders 

of Captain Morgan, Jack Daniels and Jim Beam. Foolish Fox-box 

foot soldier lusting blood: Blowing up schoolchildren and teachers!

The stinky, slimy green, cesspool—reflecting capitalist rule

Algae attack, metaphor for war. Peeling paint, Pentagon pimps

shredding social safety net with looped, weapons-testing, wars

Horrific, eternal, trade shows of terror… 

Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet; Black Agenda Report's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC.

BOOING BOSS TWEET’S CRUEL REICH CULT WHEREVER THEY GO

by Raymond Nat Turner

Rise Up, Sing Out: Watch from Home

The boos are growing stronger 

The boos are lasting longer…

Crescendoing class-war bugle calls—

thundering tsunamis—

from factory floors, from stadiums, from arenas, from 

concert halls, bouncing off white supremacist border walls

The boos are growing stronger 

The boos are lasting longer…

Lions and elephants roaring, rejecting orange ICE Age rampage. Rejecting bassackwards 

Wayback Machine Making America Grate again. Splitting families up in profit-driven 

torture centers. Rejecting double-dipping, rights-stripping, grifting, gerrymandered Jim Crow

$campaigns and $elections turning our sweat beads, blisters, callouses into their personal ATMs.

The boos are growing stronger 

The boos are lasting longer…

Background vocals for SNAP songs stolen from babies’ growling bellies.

Harmonies for cancer patients’ plug-pulling laments

and dirges of screaming farmers fucked by their Tariff Sheriff arresting

our development at 2 bags of groceries for the price of 6…

The boos are growing stronger 

The boos are lasting longer…

Foghorns warning fishing boats ‘bout mass murder on high seas and 

War Of The Week. Warning of walking waste, fraud and abuse by 

2,000 lb. bomb-worshippers—

Department of Class War on working-class—home and abroad.

The boos are growing stronger 

The boos are lasting longer…

Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet; Black Agenda Report's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC.

GAMBLING MAN

by Raymond Nat Turner

 

Even though the table’s tilted; the dice are loaded;

and the cards are marked; even though light-fingered

double-dealers declare that we “don’t have the cards;”

I’m a gambling man.

Betting on The People

everyday.

I’m a gambling man.

Betting on The People

everyday.

I’m a gambling man.

Betting on Everyday People

everyday.

I’m a gambling man.

Betting on Everyday People

everyday.

Betting on ordinary ones

doing extraordinary, all hands on deck, things.

Doing disbanding circular firing squad things.

I’m a gambling man.

Betting on ordinary ones doing extraordinary things—

magic—magic that made Mrs. Marcos flee the Philippines

leaving behind hundreds of pairs of her pricey shoes.

Magic that lifted The Shah from peacock throne and made 

Mobutu, Batista, Baby Doc, The Samosas and Assad… disappear…

 

 

 

 

 Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet; Black Agenda Report's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC.

EVERYTHING THEY TOUCH TURNS TO RUBBLE

by Raymond Nat Turner

Tiny backpacks, bloody body parts litter pulverized apartment and charred-

car-streets. Stolen lives litter flattened hospitals and schools. Litter crimson

coffee shop floors. Litter blackened fields of vaporized crops.

Everything they touch turns to rubble

Over and over Earth’s saddest symphony plays. Harrowing screams, wails, moans.

Same timbre, same tones. Same saline Palestine tears in Sudan. Same in Ukraine, 

Lebanon, Venezuela, Iran. The same 1% is at war with workers of the world—and

Everything they touch turns to rubble

They bomb, they strut. They prance and ‘dance,’ and bomb and bomb again.

They bomb abroad shouting, “stay sheltered!” Lucrative explosions silence

music of whining saw, pounding hammer raising roofs, housing the unhoused.

Everything they touch turns to rubble

Hubris high off homeland invasion, hostile takeovers weeks before, they dream

of easy money. Quick work of weekend war. But weekend morphs into weeks. 

And weeks into months. And months into long and lean years.

Everything they touch turns to rubble

They send holy warriors striking Saturdays, Sundays, holidays ‘round Epstein news

cycles like pyrite wrecking balls revolving around orange planet, Pedophilia. ‘Round

its death smell. ‘Round sulphur scent and white phosphorus fragrance anointing them.

Everything they touch turns to rubble

They strike when Essential Workers catch fleeting winks on speeding trains roaring

beneath snoring cities. When countrymen and women dreaming of better worlds are

not yet woke. Over and over again Cruel Reich Cult strikes under cover of darkness and

Everything they touch turns to rubble

Cruel Reich Cult strikes when working ones are doubled over panting, catching

blitzkrieg breaths. Or, when they meditate, chant, or pray protecting souls, spirits,

minds from repeated trauma of sadistic Psy-Ops on our damn dime.

Everything they touch turns to rubble

One Big Beautiful Bank Job body count equals wreckage in the wake of DOGE:

Department Of Grifter Enrichment. And drowned, frozen, burned bodies pile up 

at feet of climate deniers battling Mengele Medicine Men for roadkill recognition.

Everything they touch turns to rubble

Ugly omen, J6 white supremacists storming Capitalist Hill, ransacking offices, shitting in

halls, foreshadowed shredded social safety net. Scuttled science and education. Heralded 

War House-Offal Office golden grift; Kennedy Center shuttered; redacted Bill Of Rights.

Everything they touch turns to rubble

Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet; Black Agenda Report's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC.

STATE OF THE EPSTEIN CLASS’S UNION

by Raymond Nat Turner

Cartoon by Nick Anderson

Disabling flying fingers of 14 fact-checkers; blowing out 30 

bullshit detectors. One hour and 41 minutes of Tourettes with-

out regrets. Specious Olympics of Lying—stuck the landing—

flooding the zone with dreck.

Elephant excrement flooded Fox-boxes of viewers and listeners laid

back on La-Z-Boys, red cap electrodes attached to shaved heads, their

Tariff Sheriff telling them, “We’re the hottest country in the world!”

The roaring economy is roaring like never before. Golden Age of America.

Their Tariff Sheriff told them we the greatest. Biggest. Best-est. Most-est

in history. Told them the price of eggs in Erehwon, along with butter, fruit

and rents are way, way down. And gas is less than two dollars a gallon at

Shangri-La stations. And 401Ks are way, way, way up for lil folks of Oz.

His wild-eyed Cruel Reich Cult members wore holes in trousers and skirts

springing up like jack-in-the-boxes applauding long and loud and often.

Some fractured greasy thumbs and bloody hands clapping so hard, for so

long, over and over again. 

Like rabid, frothing-mouthed lynch mob, they cheered Big Beautiful Bank Job

and dastardly deeds of DOGE: Department of Grifter Enrichment. Sidelining

survivors and protecting Epstein Class pedophiles flying Lolita Express 39,000 feet

above borders and accountability they orgiastically chanted, “U-S-A, U-S-A, U-S-A!”

And their Tariff Sheriff told them he’s ended 8 wars, including the Mexican War;

War with Spain; French and Indian War; War Of 1812. Told them he rebuilt and

rebranded the Wehrmacht “Peace through strength.” And doing it is costing a trillion

dollars—along with blitzkrieg-warp speed redaction of our rights and freedoms…

Raymond Nat Turner is a NYC poet; Black Agenda Report's Poet-in-Residence; and founder/co-leader of the jazz-poetry ensemble UpSurge!NYC.