Body Politic 2017- A Rap by DJTazzieDog

The mopping of life
To a pristine glint of shine
Holds no godliness, nothing divine
The odd finesse of once deemed “woman’s work”
The cooking, the cleaning, the preening,
The meaning of it all
The demeaning, the gall
To gauge progress by the pace of the crawl
To an equal place, for an equal wage, an equal chance
On an open stage
Mucking through the blamegaming, shame blaming
Feigned respect from the mansplaining intellect
Is fucking slow at best.
I know, I get it,
The reins held tight, hard to change to what’s right
And engage the click clacking bright light
Of feminine insight.
Nothing more, nothing less required for redress

The amygdala when undressed
Shows no sexy sashay
No tight tops, no vee drops
No licking of the predatorial chops
By an ass grabbing fop
No sidelong glances with a wink and a nod
To the left prefrontal cortex
Where intelligence lurks
No matter the length of her skirt.
This Pandora world, swirls, whirls with evil intent
Mankind bent on a relentless pursuit of power
The time grows short,
The breathing grows shallow
With women grows hope,
This is the hour

Not All Smiles Are The Same

If ordering "1984", George Orwell's dystopic masterpiece of newspeak, sold out in the few bookstores left in town, consider a non-order from Amazon, even if you've paid $99 to be prime and gain free shipping, not to mention a two-day delivery. Still, consider the real costs to our marketplace's buy-o-diversity. This single micro-organizationism, an e-commerce suck-up and transactor of transactions, making an art out of the financial loss in order to gain the world, has gamed us. We went for the bargain, the convenience, following that smile that now lurks behind canned goods, pasta and potatoes and, well, just about everything. Are we not the drones?

Reflecting

Excuses
The ruse is deflect, project, the better
The best, the hyperbolic test
Lest the curtain rise
And pantomime disguise belies
A fear, a deer in the headlights
Kind of blind fright
"What am I doing here?
Fuck the size of the crowd,
The chanting, the feckless ranting of
'Lock her up'
Jesus God, these are Christians?
I don't wish them on anyone."

In quieter moments
When alone with his ego, call him Frank
"Heck of a guy",
He asks,
"Am I the bastard they say I am?"
The nod in the mirror, solemn, devout
Without a smile or pernicious grin
Ginned up for his so-called "base",
Frank, who never lies, for obvious reasons,
Turns away from him,
From himself.

Vocalise - A rap by DJ TazzieDog

When you pull away their bully veil
Of moral superiority, blazing gun authority
Derail their goose-stepping blood and soil follies
Peel away the skin-drenched, whitened, frightened
Stench of failure, icon loaded malware
Little remains but their sorry state of
Scapegoating, hate-toting, race baiting, face saving
Jingoist chasing fantasies
Of a super race,
Their taste for the glory days, never theirs, remains
In their hooded dunce cap raps
"Jews will not replace us"
Propeller heads roiling through seesaw seas
Need a reason, an illusion
For their calamitous confusion of cowardice

Run rabbits run
Take your vile filled shout outs, bile spewing crowd pouts
Leave our first amendment right to those
Deserving souls, not your self-serving pabulum
Drumming the dumb-down babblin' of days gone by
Crawl back into your dead end-of-the-night holes
Your underbelly stench perfumes the fright trolls
No light at the end of this tunnel
Caught in a swirling funnel, a vortex of your vexatious
Tasteless

hate fest.

Run rabbits run
The end is coming
Your vampire antics with blood sucking tactics
Will find the stake,
Your own petard
Awaits.

Cawcawphony: A rap by DJ TazzieDog

The constant caw of collaborative crows
Does a gross violation to the sonorous throes
Of dawn's early slumber
Dreams plundered, run asunder
From such a cawcawphony, no wonder
The Cooper's Hawk, patrolling air stream tundra
Its heat seeking pierce, rolling surely and fierce
Sweeps and dips and drops to stop
The tick tock of squawk
Runs the lot of them from their lofty perches
Through intimidation, causing hesitation
Of the reverberations of such sound vibrations
Clearly a violation of canyon solitude
The rude amplitude is felled
The quiver is quelled, the critters that dwell
In their Eden-like shell can rest for a spell
Knowing full well this murder of crows
This marauding band of benign bullies
Fully intend to return, the canyon resigned to endure
The lure of their beautiful annoyance
Dutiful dance of nature's rejoyance
Another dawn, another day
Another Revelle'

For Jim

Speak to me truth
In that subjective way
Some say you have
The fact is, you aren't one
A fact, that is
Your high and mighty bearing
Your axiomatic strut
Just a starting point
A premise, no promise
To further reasoning
Yet, so dear
So near to heart and soul
A paradox, you know
And I, the "liar"

Caught in your tease
I could say, "This statement is false"
If true, it would be
False, that is
Or conversely, if false
It would be true
The delicious rub of
Truth or untruth
As if you and yours
Exist at all.

Generation Gap

The roll of the eye, the sigh
Whether overt or veiled
Is regularly dispatched
For no good reason save that
Which is understandable

Her glance, a cringed meander
Through missed steps, slow comebacks
Stumbling antics of one seemingly frantic
To be seen as relevant,
May reflect disappointment.

Imperfections, newly discovered,
Erode her grip on girlhood innocence
Witnessing the stain of middle age
Detachment pervades from the one
Who answers every call.