The Plane That Never Flies

Mr. Wig! Brotherman Rock ‘n’ Roll

Blind Lemon

No snow in Alaska
No bees in the field
No frogs by the river
No hands on the wheel

No leaders in Congress
No brakes on the booze
No magic experience
No truth in the news

No teachers on the playground
They can’t protect themselves
No songs on the airwaves
No food on the shelves

Low wages for the workers
No workers getting hired
No rights & no more unions
Speak up & you get fired

No days off the schedule
No end to the tasks
No answers to questions
that everyone asks

No pause in the battle
No one gets a pass
There’s no break for the poor
& no more middle class

No fire alarms’re working
The fire escapes are locked
No lights in the hallway
The fixtures have been hocked

No whales in the ocean
No robins on the lawn
No colors in the sunset
Firing squads at dawn

No social security
It’s stolen by a lie
No more going bankrupt
You’ll pay until you die

This was the land of plenty
& everyone gives thanks
Now its all gone to shareholders
& the CEOs of banks

They can’t agree to fix the roads
They’d have to raise a tax
They’ll never ask the rich to pay
When they can load it on some poor folks backs

They’ll make it in traffic tickets
They’re raising all the fines
If you can’t pay you’ll go to jail
Put you to work making traffic signs

heard the story on the evening news
‘bout the Capulets & the Montagues

ryan’s dream
on a private highway airport bound
the convoy speeds past shanty town

bannon’s vision
dragons on the sidewalk angels in the trees
children on the border cut down like Christmas trees

ryan’s sermon
he’s my rock & my salvation I shall not be moved
& tho a fire awaits you your credit’s pre-approved

miller time
the hate truck that yr driving
the wheels will soon fall off
the other pigs yr riding with
will push you from the trough

the union won the civil war
it ended in a rout
hatred never wins the day
Hitler found that out

yes on no
you lost your taste
for hearing truth
then got lost
in a polling booth

the city is silent
the sea is black
the sun is cold
the cables slack

the sky is brick
the clouds are fake
our votes were cast
into the lake

fortune cookie
“to see what is in front of one’s nose is a
constant struggle.’