I see you grab that SS patch
from out of daddy’s SS drawer
TSOL is playing and you gotta be dressed just
right
words from Mein Kampf
scrawled on your leathers
iron cross
—original model—
dangling from chains as dumb as from the necks
at singles clubs or Hot Tub
Fever
well lemme tell ya (Jack)
it’s time you updated the pose:
no more swastikas
you’ve made your point
f’r fucksure I’ve made it myself
but mommy & daddy
2,000,000,000 Republican geeks
and all the nuke-powered ships at sea
are no longer shocked
if in fact
in their heart of hearts
they ever really were
and boys in blue
who tug on Black Flag’s cord at the drop of a
beer
chuckle at all the silly boys & girls
stirring the playpen.
this ain’t the trenches no more
it’s more like the pits.
let’s look at Adam
that pathetic insect simp
two steps back from you
(which really ain’t too far)
with that stupider than shit AMERICAN FLAG
on his belt
and low-level fascist antpoop
in all his songs—
time is ripe to take it two steps ahead
and challenge the fascist
in symbols that give him no yuks:
hammer & sickle daddy-o!
(wear it with pride)
and piss the living urine
out of bladders weak and strong.
yes I am a kike
a goddam yid
a hooknoser and all such shit
altho in certain lights I could pass for Italian
but fuck a duck
Hitler was a vegetarian who dug blue-eyed
South Bay
surfer boys
is that your idea of apocalypse now?
pardon the expression
but it’s time to
GO FOR IT
go for the hammer
go for the sickle
you’ll be glad you did.