A cold piece of work

Hillary Clenton -go fuck yourselfkisses and hugsan orchersted  smile, hand clapping,finger-popping

 lips without smear. living a lie.

Thus Said the Lord: I AM THAT I AM

OM, OM, OM,
OMnipotent, OMniscient, OMnipresent -
Without equal  and unblemished
as are snowflakes  and solar flares, 
fire and smoke.
AUM, AUM, AUM, 
Aumnipotent, Aumniscient, Aumnipresent,
Perfect, without kind and likeness,
as with cobwebs and shadows
auras and raindrops.
Aum-Ah, Aum-Ah, Aum-Ah:
Ah-life, Ah-joy, Ah-pain, Ah-death
Om-Ah, Om-Ah, Om-Ah,
Ah-triumph, Ah-surprise, Ah-pleasure.
Om-Aum-Ah,
Sure as lightening and grains of sands,
Om-Aum-Ah,
 Above and beyond comprehension,
Spotless and sacred:
yAHveh, brAHma, allAH.
Thus said the Lord:  I AM THAT I AM
THE  ALPHA AND OMEGA .

To Kevin Christopher Navarro (Little Horse) (Ode)

When the bugle sounds
and leaves abandon trees
and the passage of time
traipse beyond finite reality,
REJOICE. Possibly,the barrier
separating life from death
is not so bad, but a blessing
in disguise.
You have hurtled this illusive sphere
of physical nakedness, shape and form,
where judgmental shadows
do a danse macabre in the background on
phantasmagorical spider webs.
Your wholeness and knowledge remain
in unknowable and undeniable dimensions
free of weighty and backlash baggage
amassed over time by thoughts and deeds.

You are alive forevermore  
in the system of my pulsations,
vibrations and inhalations.
our destiny is renewed and begins
because a pow wow never ends.

twentyfirstcenturypoets

A LOVE SUPREME (Song )

She's not that pretty
She's far from being ugly.
She's kinda in between,
She's not that chubby,
She's far from being skinny,
She's kinda in between,
She's not that smart
She's far from being dumb
She's kinda in between.
O, how I love her,
Can't do without her,
She's my love supreme.

She's not that rich,
She's far from being poor,
She's kinda in between,
She's not that bossy,
She's not passive,
She's kinda in between
Oh, how I love her,
truly adore her
She's my peaches and cream,
She's my love supreme.


She's my angel
She's my heaven
She's my earthly queen
She's so insightful,
She's delightful
She's my love supreme,
She's my love supreme

The Rape (Poem )

The night was drenched in blackness,
only fireflies and cat eyes witnessed
the life and death struggle taking place
in a garbage littered alley. A purse emptied
of contents: lipstick, mascara and money
evidenced splattered blood. High-heeled shoes,
seemingly, toed each other. A scuffle accompanied
by pants and moans, punctuated
a deafening silence.

The woman's eyes, bruised and blank,
lips smeared with the corpuscle of victory
tasted bits of flesh along ridges of her gums.
and between her biting teeth.
The stickiness of blood stained her palm and fingers
She dared not engage the dead man's face
who had tried to rape her
as she pulled the knife from his chest.

Drew Lesso & Dr Mongo @ Pasadena Art Gallery of 911 Exhibition - now in collection @ The Library of Congress in Washington, DC

Iconic Images bl (Poem )

A has been -
no longer what he was,
once, tried and tested
with blazing AK 47's,
rockets launchers
on battlefields,
against Mongols and Tartars.
taking comfort in the cavernous
bowels of Afghanistan
and mighty forces spitting the
tongue of death from superior artillery,
supplied by a future enemy.
A has been -
once a symbol of revolutionary bravado,
an egomaniac steeped in delusions of grandeur,
who breached the homeland of
the Green Lady.
A has been except for
posters: bounty on his head
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE ...

The search, unbeknowest as he was sequestered
in a fortified military complex, in Pakistan,
armed with a remote control,
looking at an bygone age of perpetuation,


news updates and pornographic sites
on Al Jazeera, masturbating and lusting at pictures
of dead bodies sacrificed in the name of martyrdom,


a has been, caught with pants below the knees

Iconic Image 1 (Poem )

Through swollen and blurred vision, I glared at her voluptuous body -
a tempting contour of flesh,
as she swayed back and forth,
arrayed in purple and scarlet;
adorned with gold and precious stones
and pearls to eso-erotic music.
She peeled off garments after garments
meant to entice the lust of an idolatrous king,
webbed in an adulterous commitment;
a promise to deliver the desired wish
of a mother's spite.
She swirled amidst incestuous passion,
kissed my uninvited lips,
once the vehicle of rebuke:
"Adultery is sinful in the eyes of God."
I was targeted - cast dungeon-wise
in dark squalor and bleeding walls
splashed with blood-curdling torture.
droplets of my blood spilled from
the silver platter onto the marbled floor
to the delight of the King's lords
and high Captains.
And, before my eyes expired, puffed and swollen,
the seventh veil revealed her wanton nakedness;
etched on her forehead, the prophetic words:
THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND OF THE
ABOMINATION OF THE EARTH.

To Helen (Poem )

The heavens opened to welcome her,
as she lay reposed on her final earthly bed -
a destined sleep, deserved.
Surrounded by bouquets of love and memories,
rains ceased to pepper the chapel's rooftop,
clouds dispersed to allow a ray of sunshine
to filter through stained glass windows
touching her journeyed face.

Ave Maria! Maiden mild!
Listen to a maiden's prayer!
Thou canst hear though from the wild
Thou canst save amid despair
Safe may we sleep beneath thy care,
though banished, outcast and reviled -
Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer;
Mother, hear a suppliant child!
Ave Maria!

The heavens opened and welcomed her.

Iconic Image 3 (Poem )

I was one of twelve
sitting in the upper room,
secretly seething because I was not the chosen.
Jealousy prepped my narcissistic ego,
bombarded my consciousness and reason
unaware that the penalty of betrayal is death.

We drank and supped
of His body and blood,
A sacrament of high holiness.
As He focused on the depth
of my treachery.

The chief priests and scribes
placed a bounty on His head,
declaring Him PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE -
Wanted dead or alive for crimes: false claims,
corrupting scripture, proclaiming Godhead
and violating the demeanor of the synagogue
and established dogma.
The lure of silver salavied my senses;
and I snitched Him out with a kiss,
to high authority with infallible mien,
who washed their hands of Him.
And my ill-found wealth became my curse.

Brain of Dr. Mongo

Dr. Mongo MJ Poem (.movie)

Locus Classicus

Who Are We?

Tanabe

Dr. Mongo, Spoken Word Artist

PENiTENTIARY BY DR. MONGO 01.19.mov

21st Century Poets

FIRST CALL:


Calling all 21st century poets,
hardcore, vitriolic, underground poets,
outspoken, word-guerrilla poets
to change the system,
declare war on class and privilege,
homelessness, poverty, hunger and ignorance;
hoist the flag, carry the torch
of love, peace and equality;
build pyramid pyres, set the world ablaze
with scorching (truth) is power-knowledge.

Calling all 21st century poets,
to condemn, tear down, pulverize
stone-age myth, lore, superstition,
recycled refrigerated hypocrisy, falsehood
and questionable paradigms.

Calling, calling, calling 21st century poets,
underground, guerrilla, outspoken,
spoken-word poets,
to deliver scathing words, harsh verbal assaults,
tauting tirades, oratorical deathblows,
against tyranny, intimidation, torture,
executions, blanket assassinations,
and forced suicides;
against racism, sexism, bigotry
and ethnic cleansing;
against border vigilantism fisted in
discriminatory nationalism;
against executive, legislative, judicial exclusion,
slavery, genocide and extinction;
against pseudo-historians and philosophers,
teachers and preachers personifying hatred,
positing race theory, supremacy -
vocalizing incendiary phrases, sentences,
igniting fiery fanaticism
coded in the written and the spoken word.
Calling to arms all 21st century poets,
dissident, revolutionary lip-masters
to hurl explosive word bombs
at corrupt, self-serving institutions
dumbing down a populace to grovel at the feet
of power-driven, theo-philosophical gurus
and eccentric social planners.

Calling all 21st century poets
to stand and step up, revive
the admonishing, denounciatory exhortations
of Jeremiah and like voices.

In Memory of Rosa Parks

Rosa, you have passed beyond
this abusive realm
of petty trails and tribulation
of manufactured anger
and victimization.
You, too, will occupy the mountaintop,
display your angelic splendor.

It was your energetic demeanor
and majestic dignity - a healing balm,
that fueled the flames of hope,
and stoked embers of pride
in a sorely oppressed people.

Rosa, you will be held sacred
to those of us whose struggle
for justice and equality -
once thought insurmountable,
tested the width and breadth
of your indomitable spirit.