My Letter to Venezualan Embassy

!!Ola Senores!!,

Me llamo Sean Lawlor Nelson de Ashland, Oregon en los estados unidos. Los cientos que no hablo espanol mas bueno. Soy una socialista y tengo mucho admiracion para la revoluciones de Venezeula, Cuba, Vietnam, etc.
I am a U.S. citizen, graduate of Southern Oregon University, and a literary figure of some small note. I'm writing for two reasons. For one: I'd like to share some of my poetry with Venezeula, Cuba, and other leftist nations; It may be used without consent or payment. You'll find some below:

If the War Goes On
(dedicated to the countless slain Iraqi civilians)

If the war goes on,
what but gore shall be achieved?
what wealth shall be accrued but
living upon mourned son?If the war goes on,
what shall be the harvest
in the fields ploughed with trenches
unplanted but with bullets,
and fertilized with human blood?

If the war goes on,
how shall the children ever get to bed
with their ears tormented with dinner-table dogma
and howling rockets overhead?

If the war goes on,
what shall be the spoils
but vendetta piled upon vendetta
vengeance upon vengeance¦covering up the meadows and flowers
till there's no sunshine
that can pierce the fogs of hate,
and "Jihad!, Jihad!"
is the only song to soothe the babes?

"Terror In America"

(!!dedicated to the farmer in rural Phetchaburi, Thailand who saved me from the wild dogs, let me stay the night, and then took me home on the back of his motorcycle, all before refusing my money!!)

There's chaos on the freeways
and maniacy at the polls,
the work-force lives in a caffeine daze
and many of the best sleep in the cold

ignoring Sagan, Darwin, and Dawkins,
the church-bell tolls,
and so many poor crowd the pews
and sacrifice needed dollars!
(all for a crazed and failed branch of Jewry;
it's really sadly funny)

But as the good book states:
the earth is circled by the sun,
and as the TV preacher relates
you must your wayward neighbors shun.

Teens eat pizza, skate and surf;
every wal-mart is full of serf-made wares,
and so many value only profit and shares,
knowing each tissue's price
but no virtue's worth!!

To see guns and violence,
one need not turn on the TV
but if you do it,
you'll be bombarded by vomit:
casual murder, brutal sex
and myriad other mindless banalities and deviancies

Schools and universities teach many facts and lies
as well as anatomies of frogs and flies,
but ideas and principle-based thought
are only by rebel teachers taught

Those who from these horrors
have gone off the deep end,
(and those this matrix just can't understand,
and imbeciles unnaturally old)
are in sterile "foster homes" penned
or sometimes put in sickening psych wards,
but the truth be told,
it's half a loony bin: this whole Yankee land

But compared to the jailed,
the "insane" live grandly;
over 1 percent of the land of the free's population
live in caged misery,
including a tenth of the young black males
of this profane nation

Yes, community, cooperation and civilization
are underground elements in this nation;
yet among hippies, red-necks, and average Joes,
one can find them in abundance Gaiia knows.

And it's not as though
every evil from America grows;
In many nations across the globe
a struggle is on between, I suppose,
evil greed and rational humanity
medieval fanaticism and thoughtful reason

And there's more of the same across the galaxy:
reptilian cyclopses paving their fertile moons,
tentacled industrialists noticing more and more monsoons,
under-water Britons and Swedes who still need a king,
and then there are those planets where nothing moves...
where once creatures would dance, laugh, and sing

"The American Blues"

I got a bad case of the American Blues
it's a weird place and that ain't news

Political hustlers on TV talking about Christ
Military's in Iraq pulling off an oil heist,
The average voter doesn't know day from night
The bars are full of apes looking for fights

Oh, got a bad case of the American Blues
every day just get more confused

Take Ashland, Oregon, this "liberal" city;
All the girls are so nice and pretty
(wearing clothes made in Asia
where the serfs slave away
almost every single day
and sleep on matresses of hay)

Got a bad case of the American Blues,
if I'm crazy, I got an excuse

Millions of souls locked up in prison
There's air-craft carriers doing our fishing,
Meth and scientology spreading like plagues of old
Family values being bought and sold
Half the girls I date mine me for gold

Got a bad case of the American Blues,
It's an empire but that ain't on the news

Police with the manners of thugs
locking up hippies for smoking some nugs,
Little school kids getting too much math
and way too few hugs.
Yeah, it's a strange place to live
but every day there's love to give

Christmas-Time In Shady Pine, America

(dedicated to Sutton the Red and my brother Chris, out on probation)

I grew up here amid the trailers
outside this backward Oregon town;
Ever since I was two
they been tearin the mountain down:
now they're building mansions
and boasting of the view.

My little red-headed pal and I
would play cowboys and Indians;
though there was plenty of shootin'
only plastic died:
the other night he called me
(sloshed from a bar)
soon he's off for Iraqi front lines
where the modern Indians are.

My other buddy was a wild one,
wouldn'ta backed down from a gun,
just a lad in Texas,
Chris Siens he fought the law;
they locked him up in prison
but you tell me who won.

A few miles away there's a billionaire
with gold and silver in his hair:
he commits evil crimes around the world
and the law don't seem to care;

I knew his grandsons Adam and Matt:
the first was one beautiful cat,
the other was a brilliant brat
as narrow-minded as a rat.

It's almost Christ-mas
and what would that gentle Jew think?
he'd redden the whole of Crater Lake
and drink...
and drink...
and drink.

Once upon a time
I visited Thai Bangcock,
twas truly, hellishly sad:

Fire burned every street and dock,
tormenting the good and the bad:
the truly wicked,
whether their skin was yellow or fair,
shared cool brothel air
and whether they spoke English, French or Cantonese,
they each ate from a golden dish...
as a hungry peasant girl
labored on her knees

So wave them stars and stripes,
vote for the party of Clinton, Bush, or Blair,
and string up miles of merry colored light;
cause that wild hermit Nietzche
had one thing right:

God is dead
Democracy's sun is setting:
art, might, and wile
shall rule the coming super-human night

An Ode To Terror

Long have I fought against you,
Lord Terror,
but i am weary:
your minions are everywhere

As a small child
they pinned me to a hard chair
and tortured me with facts and formulas

as a youth,
i heard your message from the church pulpit
and my heart quivered
to think of eternal, crackling hell-fire

grown older and gnarled,
i Braved you everyday
on the chaotic highways of america

i ran from you
to a land of green smoke
where I bathed away years
in warm lakes of liquor...
but you turned into
a dread blue sea monster and
i narrowly dodged your alluring jaws

i went home to the library
but even there
I only shook you for a little while:
you turned into meaninglessness
and stalked me
from many a respectable, scholarly page

i fled and, disconsolate,
wandered the world...
and found you in a Thai silver factory,
in unnatural fish tanks,
in the racket of scientific machinery
constructing temples to the God of Greed,
in white, sanitary hospitals
that reek of the modern disease

i grow tattered and insane,
but clearly see now
that you are King of America
and king of the age;

i would do as well
to joust against the rain;
So, i lay down my sword in surrender,
and beg to be your page. (lol)

Ya Can't Stop the Human Bombs
dedicated with admiracion to comrades Hugo Chavez and Fidel Castro

The greedy people,
with their opulent ways,
and their enormous pearls
(for which they'd enslave the entire world,)

These tiring, sickening greedy people,
(huge and tiny dragons
in their pay-day loan caves, soaring corporate sky-scrapers,
horrible white banks, and gigantic yachts)
will Never be content with what they've got.

They've even started a new religion,
with no soulful Christ or far-seeing Buddha:
its saints are electricity and silicon,
the chemical, the gun, and the GMO being;
(Their only aim being to pave and enslave the entire world,
to turn every boy and girl
into a cyborg soul like me.)

But they can't turn off the sun,
program the seas,
Cuba and Venezuela freeze,
reverse the enlightened, left-ward blowing breeze,
restrict philosophy and charity to a CD-ROM...
!!!AND THEY CAN'T STOP THE HUMAN BOMBS!!!
______________________________________________

It's amazing the perils I've Pushed on through,
while taking the time to help other troubled souls
as well as for true friendship and contemplation,
all but a crime in this death-star nation. (lol)

Well, tis just another roll of them ol' cosmic die
!!so, don't you be afraid to love or to lie,
to hustle, sing, kill, dance, or die!!

See, nobody's an island or anywhere close:
the big business-man is a pose within a pose;
and in the end,
we often share from the same plate,
ULTIMATELY, every land and sea shares the same fate.

But this isn't the real truth I have to relate,
(as I drink this tasty if dangerous watered-down wine)
and revel once again in the the anarchic enlightenment of "Sublime: Sublime,"

As Knowell wisely sang, "ya can't fight against the youth,"
and it's only for so long ya can cover up the truth,
(like the American holocaust that occured in Vietnam.)
But, anyhow, I'm done writing:
hopefully we can prevent some of the innevetable fighting:

"LUNATIC" I am, (lol), I can't explain what I'm thinking
but the imperialist ship is steadily, if slowly sinking,
because even the mighty hurricane
gives way to idyllic, sunny calm;
let these vicious, dumb slavers try as they may:
if you people's hope and dignity take away,
!!! HUMAN BOMBS THEY WILL BECOME !!!

Secondly, I'm releasing my 2nd book and sending it to reviewers across the country. I'm already being followed and harassed by somebody, who I presume to be the U.S. government, seeing as the police seem to have orders not to investigate repeated burglaries of my home.
Anyway, I want to take a long vacation in a socialist country and am considering Venezeula. Travel is difficult for me due to psychological problems arising from an accidental arsenic poisoning I experienced as a professor in rural Thailand. Nonetheless, I feel the need to remove myself from this nation to express myself safely; I have a valid passport and can legally travel abroad. My e-mail is seanspacey@hotmail.com

I'm no spy and have no desire to see anything military, sensitive, etc. I would be interested in meeting with Venezeulan intellectuals, poets, etc. Also, I'm no terrorist and have no intention to commit acts of violence toward the U.S. or any allied nation, though I can't always condemn those who do.

salud y paz,

Sean Lawlor Nelson