Journalism Of The Americas

There were three
Middle Eastern boys
driving around
with a car bomb.

That’s all they ever really do,
drive around with car bombs.

I am Mexican.
I watch TV.

I am black.
I watch TV.

I am white.
I watch TV.

Whitey. White people.
TV good and grand for white people.
Clean your moustache, Officer Mitchell.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

My President Of The Shakespeare

“I believe that freedom and commerce
are values worthy of defending,
that those who may try to shake
the foundation of American prosperity
shall be ineffectual in their attempts.
I believe that terrorism and terrorists
no longer have caves to hide in,
nor governments to protect them,
that all the world is allied
in the fight for the preservation of
what is good.
I believe in a high protein, low fat diet.
And that the evil ones shall be dealt
a great talk with freedom.
Americans, knowledgeable,
sleep tight by your justice,
an economy awaits whose perseverance
shall triumph
the resiliency of freedom.”

— My President Of The Shakespeare


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

A Winter At Valley Forge

We took drugs,
we charged on the military.

The military filed reports
saying
“you can’t charge on the military.”

The President filed reports
stating
there was a new war against the military.

CNN covered stories exonerating
War Machines.

It was opened a
Henry Kissinger School for Diplomacy.

It was a four for one sale, Margaret.

We loosened our diapers and
played with our doo-doo.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
antipoémus thumbnail image Antipoémus (poetry book)

Tactic Racial Lullaby

When the twilight was falling
American soldiers took their babies.
. . . for babies must be taken . . .
Whose babies?
Where babies?
Babies gooby goo-goo?
Do people still need babies?

When the war against the Arabs started
Americans hid their babies.
This baby.
My baby.
Cannot babies live subterranean?
They are very tiny diggers.
Teensy tiny, dig, dig.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
antipoémus thumbnail image Antipoémus (poetry book)

Best O’ Best Bentley

best-o-best-bentley

All of these buildings in New York City,
for whom have they fallen?

Should we build a city for the Master Humans,
to outer space,
to Disease Central Hospital with the power of satellites?

Disease Central Hospital
is the end of the line for heaven.

The end of the line for awards and winning.

The Capital of Capitalism has synthesis
in perception and cancer

and certification circles,

a.k.a. children.

All of it
born in
D.C.H. Systems.

The Whispering Star

From the CIA’s poor planetary
management
we rise
From the movements in October
first drawn in window panes
we rise
within Detroit
From the codes of the Widow
then passed onto these ions
we rise
We wake we rise
in Calcutta
in Nebraska
in Santiago, then Ultima Thule

We rise from what is unformed
for the whispering star of night

James, I know not what I’ve done