Stephen Morse: A poet's view

2009-04-24T16:17:00.001-06:00

Choose today. Is it something to hold, or simply scan in the barbershop

This offer expires when I do. You can get a pdf cheap download_The Boone Farm Apple Wine edition_

Or the Classsic Crow print version/ with bookplate.

The Dark Spots are CrowsThe Dark Spots are Crows (book)

Print: $7.95 (8X11.5) full colored cardstock covers. Black and white interiors.

First Edition/Saddle Stitched in the classic style of the independent small presses. It is not intended to blend comfortably with coffee table publications. It is to pretty, what blood is to marinara sauce. The colors are there, vibrant, and real in a way that would have made Dali nervous. The surrealists softened the illusions of time and and knife blade hands of the analog scalpels of dark and light.

Download: $0.69 -- instant access.

Crows dominate these poems. They are living metaphors, spirits, The totems, place holders of a kind of death, spirit guides of disaster, or just plain carrion eating birds that remind our rational selves that our eyes can be plucked out and eaten with a joyful tenderness.. All of it's there in these poems written mostly in 2007 as an exploration of neutral gourmands.

Oh Death where art thou sting

from thy sinew we dance and swing

eye balls eye balls

marco polo.

Order it today and I'll send you a bookplate, complete with poem and signature. Imagine how sensually the nearness of death completes the package

Lucille Lang Day

2009-04-23T11:34:00.000-06:00

The Curvature of Blue - Lucille Lang Day
Body: The Curvature of Blue - Lucille Lang Day
Cervena Barva Press
PO Box 440357
West Somerville, MA 02144-3222
Bookstore: http://www.thelostbookshelf.com
ISBN: 978-0-692-00181-3
$15.
00

Lucile sent us a copy of this book. A couple of the poems had been previously printed in Juice online. We would gladly have published all of them. A wonderful mix of real craft and open eyes. The romantic political physicist poet that develops over time if a poet seeks beyond their own genitalia.

She has a knack for capturing the complexity of the American now.
I love the final stanza of a poem called Pandora in Berkeley:

"The radio says stocks are falling,
a high school student was shot
after taking his principal hostage,
and traffic is indefinitely delayed
on all East Bay freeways.
I'm already
late for work.
I have no time
to fiddle with this box.
"

She's not afraid to imagine a reader who knows the story of Pandora and her box. Her work is like that. It is a world seen through the eyes of someone who is alive and not afraid to build on what she has read and experienced. If you want to get to know her, you can write her. She is alive and well.

http://juice-press.com/poetry/links/lucylangbio.html

The Golden Shadow Poets

2009-04-19T18:44:00.002-06:00

Another old but alive poet worth reading and knowing.

- Not Quite Feral

- Walking Slow

- Chopin
Raindog Armstrong

was born Stephen Armstrong in Lafayette, Indiana on Ground Hog's
Day in 1951. He came west to California soon afterwards, where he continues
to live (except for a brief stint in Texas).

Raised in a middle class family with all the expectations of college, wife
and children, home and career, he came of age during the tumultuous 60s
and never quite recovered.

He was politically active during high school, working for the United

Farm Workers union, as well as participating in numerous anti-war activities.
He was classified as a Conscientious Objector, but was never drafted.
None of this sat well with his parents. Left to his own devices; he left home
at eighteen and drifted away from his family and friends, never entering
college or doing any of the things that were expected of him.

In 1971, after the Sylmar earthquake, he moved to Berkeley, California
with his girlfriend and lived there in the chaos of the times for almost
two years. He then, came back to Los Angeles and has continued to explore
the beach communities from Venice Beach to Long Beach ever since.

Being somewhat rough around the edges, RD has held a variety of jobs over
the years, including Handy Man, Painter, Night-Manager at a Coffee House,
Dishwasher, Janitor, Teacher's aid, and Lay Counselor.

He began writing poetry in high school, where he also began keeping a journal.
He wrote poetry sporadically through the late sixties and into the nineties,
when he finally 'found his voice' and began to seriously pursue the craft.
He kept the journals going and still jots down thoughts and pet-peeves
to this day.

In 1993, just prior to the death of Charles Bukowski (a life-long inspiration
for him), Raindog began to write in earnest. It was as if someone had opened
a tap. Around this time he began to submit his work to magazines,
the "littles" as Bukowski had dubbed them, and he became aware of the
blossoming poetry scene in and around Los Angeles.
It was reminiscent of the pre-1968 hip scene, full of hope and creativity.

Soon, he would discover the world of the small press and claim it as
his own.

Because of his disconnect with the "real" world, Raindog (as he became known
in the mid-nineties whilst living in San Pedro, California…it's a Tom Waits

reference, another inspiration to RD), became adept as a Do It Yourselfer.
Since he had no formal education, he made it up as he went along. This kept
him out of trouble, mostly, but it also made him open to finding creative
solutions to the problems that would crop up. For this reason, he has not had
an extensive amount of his work published by others, except in magazines and
ezines. He self-publishes his work because he can control the outcome.

Of his 15 or so chapbooks, only two, RoadKill (12 Gauge Press, 2002)
and Pedro Blue (Vinegar Hill Press, 1996) were published by someone else
(in both cases the results were less than satisfactory).

In late 1995, after an involvement with an ill-planned poetry festival,
Raindog began publishing the Lummox Journal on a monthly basis. He also
began publishing a poetry chapbook series called the Little Red Books
(LRB for short). The Lummox Journal lasted for eleven years. He's still
publishing the LRB series, as well as an on-line poetry zine called
Dufus. In addition he has also published The Wren Notebook by Rick
Smith (2000), Last Call: The Legacy of Charles Bukowski (2004, a 41
contributor anthology which was voted Best Poetry Anthology of 2005 by
Muses Review), The San Pedro Poems by RD Armstrong (2002), The Manx
Tales, micro-fiction, by RD Armstrong (1999), GRIT, the Journal of
Abrasive Literature edited by RD Armstrong (2000) and POPE LINKED TO
SATANIC COMMIES - a pamphlet - by Raindog (1995).

He has been published in nearly 100 magazines and anthologies
including Drinking With Bukowski (Thunder's Mouth Press, 2000);
Poesy Magazine (several different issues);
An Eye for an Eye - poets on 9-11 (Regent Press, 2002); ArtLife Vol.
20 #1 & #3 (2000) and The Louisiana Review (2001). His work has also
been published on-line at various websites including Abalone Moon;

The Ragged Edge; Sacramento Poetry Art and Music; Thunder Sandwich;
St. Vitus Dance; Yoni (Australia); The 365 Project; Big City Lit;
Poetic Diversity; Juice online, and The Hold.

Walking Slow

RD(
Raindog) Armstrong

It’s as if my fate is

Catching up with me

As if my shuffling

Along life’s dusty hallways

Could bring me

Back to those turnoffs

I have missed

I see a child’s face

And I wonder how I

Managed to miss

That offramp

I see a friend who is

Already a grandma and

Still younger than I

And I think:

Christ

I lived through the fucking

Free love

Disco fever

Safe sex

Days

And I miraculously

Dodged the bullet

Every time

Yet many of my friends

Did not

But taking one for the team

Or whatever the theme-du-jour

Of the day was

I’m the one who lives on

Without a family

Who is the best known

Loner in town

The one who now

Must walk slow

As if walking slow

Would let all my bad

Decisions catch up with me

And let me make the better

Choices this time around

So I could have a happier life

And not be such a drain

On the world and my fellow

Creatures

I’m walking slow

As if there’s any

Real choice

back to Poet Index to read more Juice

2009-03-26T09:04:00.000-06:00

graphic by Willow Morse
So and I'm supposed to be happy to see you

young scallywags sniffing
around rainbows
yellow brick roads

you cant even skip
ain't done a lick of work
haven't got a pot of your own
to put your gold on

Don't be asking for a touch
for a wish a bit of snoggin
your too young for that
sneaky and young

seems all I need
is a sneaky young one
with the brains of a bush
asking me for my poetry
or the secret for making it
it's the gold stupid
why would you be trading
all your talents
for bits of digits

Some flossy floosy or
muscly moosey
wants my grease
on their hide

Sure and they'll keep it too
if I let em
how many times you gonna cheat
to win?

carping about faeries
and unicorns yeah
carping
big sucker fish
bottom feeders

But here you are
you think you've found me
think you can bind me
up with free ropes
and cheap wine
make me tell
some lie
about what
it all means?

could at least have
the courtesy
to offer a good taste
of the rye
whiskey wit
and sing for your
golden grained
prizes.

Even the ducks duck
and chickens pluck
at the sound of a
voice crying out for
more

Don't you know?
you don't even have any
wasting your time with
water vapors
cheap bricks
and melty witches.

So you think I'm gonna give it up
Say, here's the pot
the key
and the
way?

I ain't no leprykahn
the clickin sound
it's just a loose buckle.

poetry

2009-03-11T08:14:00.000-06:00

Not only am I getting old, defective genes, buy Myspace

2009-02-18T13:54:00.005-06:00

MySpace

is getting cranky
doesn't know who I am
or wants to pretend it's too busy
to deal with me
but like heavy cleaned oats
it just sort of scatters itself around
for the chickens to eat
metaphorically of course
myspace has hoarded
my blogs and poems and

presently
when I do I will snatch them
all for publication
in a book called "the ones that almost got away"
subtitle:because I believed in microsoft.
subtitle: because Bill Gates
Subtitle: fill in the blanks

"Why would any sane person do that?"
Define your terms, I always say.
Nothing mysterious there

hell, I'm 64, been fighting cancer since 2002
and I kind of figured he'd take that into account
before blocking me out of my life's work

"of course it's not personal, and you probably didn't
treat it right, and Mr. Gates cannot be expected..."

"not even a little bit if I begged?

"just ask any ayn rand, need is not sufficient justification
for anything."

I bet you don't raise chickens, I'm thinking. They need
and I give it to them and you know what
they lay eggs. even when it's freezing out there
and it's not polite to ask them to be creative, pop
they just pop those things out there.

"I'm not sure what chickens have to do with it"

"See. That's the problem. you can't get past the logic
of me trusting you
and losing my work
and it it would have been a decent omelette.
a free breakfast, Bill."

Pure phonography

2009-02-17T17:48:00.005-06:00

A true ant
wearing a red backpack
and camel hiking shorts
stood at the counter

open toed sandals
hairy legs
and a hunting knife
sheathed and hung
from a hemp rope belt

"gimme one of them bottles with green mouthwash in them."
"does it have to be green ?"
"nah, but it hasta be green."
"ok then, so yellow is ok"
"yeahh, long it's green."
"ok, then."

Say have you seen color of the sky lately
the shopkeeper was thinking
it's blue
and it isn't mouthwash and
I think it kills ants.

"say that thing you are thinking isn't green, right"
"nope, it's blue left nut job juice for killing ants"

and it being a free market and all, the ant is thinkng
you'd of sold it to me for three times what it's worth
and smoked it with your friends until they were dead.

"That is the way it works?"
That is the way
It works
"that way"

curds and mouthwash
in a headshop for
granny ants.

That's the only part they understood
"i get that"
"take all you want"
"take two"

This is pure phonography.
Grooving , the true ant
thought
green and gone
grooving and rant
in a red backpack
in time.

"if it ain't green, how's it gonna be yellow?"

Crazy aint It?

2009-02-09T20:58:00.002-06:00

The long awaited trilogy of Judy Brekke and Stephen Morse. Two side of a cancer and the lives they lived getting there.

Places That LingerPlaces That Linger (book)

Print: $10.00

A collection of poetry
visiting the lives of two poets sharing places that linger.

Happy Anniversary
2007Happy Anniversary
2007 (book)

Print: $7.50

Collection of poems
during husband's chemotherapy and surgeries for cancer.

The Dark Spots
are CrowsThe Dark Spots
are Crows (book)

Print: $7.95

Download: $0.69

Crows
dominate these poems. The totems of death, spirit guides of disaster,
and just plain carrion eating birds are in all these poems written
mostly in 2007 as I [Stephen Morse] dealt with chemotherapy and surgery
in a fight for life.

Order your trilogy today.

The Dark Spots
are CrowsThe Dark Spots
are Crows (book)

Print: $7.95

Download: $0.69

Juicy Magnifier

2009-01-28T20:27:00.005-06:00

Steeper S. Morocco
" Alienates, Beacon, andes stiffness Gone "
Juicy Magnifier
"Alleghenies my poetries is in flunked . . .evermore time I retina or everyday re-perpetuate a poe, I channing it . . . somers witch justly a paula. Anymore poetically thawing's lessened than a council of yearning oldsmobile is subservient to fluting beyond recoiled. . . theft're poets in proceeded. A Poets in protege is pushbutton andean shorthanded by theorized interspersing of worthy andalusia audubon untidiness it reassure a pointing wheeler it respite chapter . . . likewise a corroborations hog . . . andre squawks." s. morbid

poems

2009-01-05T22:37:00.002-06:00

http://www.reverbnation.com/c./a4/619992/353515/Artist/353515/Artist/link

flattened skunks

2008-11-14T15:16:00.001-06:00

flattened skunks

riding in 1952
in my uncle's chevrolet
he stopped
saying,"take a deep breath
some day there
won't be any
dead skunks
left to smell"

Uncle Vic later
sat on his white couch
in front of the white drapes
in his snow white livingroom
put a shotgun in his mouth
and somehow pulled the
trigger

Vic had gallons of silver dollars
three perfect
strange daughters
Diana Lee
Susan Lee
Barbara Lee

and knew the
dead skunks smell
we all did.

----------------
Now playing: Bob Dylan - You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go
via FoxyTunes

2008-11-13T20:26:00.000-06:00

It is difficult

being zen when you live in a zoo. That of course is the beginning of a metaphoric exploration of the similarities between my life and the life as lived by those who live in the zoo. It promises the profundity of a cliche because I know little of zoos. It is one those phrases that a lazy muse floats into view. Here consider this:

"It's Hard Being Zen While Living In A Zoo"

The monkies are awake
swinging in the branches
on monkey island
the zoo in San Francisco
of course

old grey gorilla
sits pondering flea bites
and grapes

lions roar somewhere
where they echo
give me this day

some kids got
eaten by tigers

in the air
the seagulls come
and the seagulls go

out my window
it's turkeys snow
and crows
some deer
opossum
coyotes
owls
our chickens
and flattened rabbit
cardials
and chickadees

monitor to the front of me
monitor to the left
around the corner largely
a projection television set

satellite reception
disappears in the storm
ove them til they're
done
they let us out
for public viewing
prodding
for
food and
fun.

2008-11-12T20:03:00.002-06:00

Fall Scale 2008
Category: Writing and Poetry

This is a scale poem; a song I sing looking over my desk at the woods through the window of where I am and where I have been.

Fall Scale

snow cold wet leafless
branches slender trunks brown and
white dead daylight lace

brown means dying
black means dead
stand your father
on his head
dig it deep
root deep
gone

black and white
checkered shirt
fingers on the keyboard tapping
mickey mouse and
white gold ring

oceans surf
and cold fog
sand and driftwood
art on the cliffs
a song in the middle
of my chest
aches

cold is cold

time is up
run out
your lawyer doesn't care
no money there

no golf ball
flies that far

snow snow
cold and cold
rubber heels slip
to break my bones

Taming the poem

2008-10-23T12:40:00.002-06:00

Interpreting meaning or translating poetry for sense has never been something I felt necessary. It in fact, tames the poem, whips it in to a framework for containment so that it will be a little less frightening.

It is the emphasis on understanding that allows the deconstructionist to say that words have no meanings or more accurately mean what we think they mean and are therefore relatively meaningless.

which is saying the butterfly landing on my knee means I am important or not when it is simply so.

Or to paraphrase, a poem is a state of being...what a poem does is the proof of synchronicity, but even saying that tames the moment more than I would ordinarily do.

narcissus would understand.

halfway through 2008

2008-06-20T16:42:00.003-06:00

I have a toothache THE CANCER'S GONE i have a toothache yaeah

IN THE ROOM I RIDE

"Well, Sirrah! move back, there is scarce room to ride."
-- from “The Fool Errant”
Amy Lowell

from here I cannot
see the kingdom sky
with my eyes the roof
stops rain and light too

stops outside where the
cars park and birds fly
tar and air grass and
clouds the cheer and boo

of every where
and every when
on this watery
ball where I can run

in circles circling
counting bits of ten
the base that speaks of
being done on earth

home of the brave king-
dom of drive I can
not see past the room
the work shop of words

waiting for glory
to arrive for the
power of old stars
to end stop but there’s

a surge against the
enjambment edging
air of dark heaven
luring in the light

in the room I ride

the broom of love

Make Much of Time
by Robert Herrick
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying,
And this same flower that smiles today,
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
and while ye may, go lay with me;
For having lost just once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

2007 shudders to an end

2007-12-28T14:12:00.000-06:00

looking around the room today
is the best I can do with my web cam
and I'm not sure I like those candy
ass ladies who want to show me their stuff
for money when I have plenty of
useless stuff around the place
and webcam pointing at me
Perhaps you'd like to shoot some green
to line my wallets with

It's cold here all the time
in one way or another
I think silver and mercury
bandits stalk the plastic floors
disguised as wood
the way robin did you know
taking from poor putting it on the floor

The penguins are watching but
they're sewn to silence
sworn to innuendo
and limited to guess.

Shadow Killing

2007-12-07T19:37:00.000-06:00

I've been doing too much pessimistic expounding of late. darkness always gives way to the light. This is a poem about that. My granddaughter Willow is our light dancer, caster, and killer of shadows.

Shadow Kill

it's a lot easier to talk about gutters than stars
gutters collect the runoff

the excess water that falls from the sky

carrying leaves, sticks, small dirts and

if there's enough of it around, blood
washed back to the
the ocean we came from.

the gutter's clogged
with excesses of our dead parts.
But we can't drown stars.
their lights shine and as long as we can see them

the gutters will only collect the small parts
of the glory of the explosions in the sky.

in the beginning there was light
the lights in the sky are stars
no gutter can hold the fury of the coming of the light

we burn and boil and rise in to the air

nothing can hold us in this universal bang

the stars would kill us if we got too close to them
the gutters are safer.
we can float there and drown the streets
with parts of once living things

killers, presidents, butterflies, and kings,
leaves, and waste...
Oily bones and vegetable power

darkness is a shadow under our feet.
we are creatures of the light.
what storm can wash light through the streets?

Bo Bice must see video

2007-11-17T17:48:00.000-06:00

This with a littlle jiggling is alreadya poem

2007-10-23T09:57:00.000-06:00

Sometimes, if you just keep an open mind reality kicks your door in with a poem...just don't try to get too fancy with language.
Best,
Stephen

Rob

Subject:
Body: ----------------- Bulletin Message ----------------- From: Rob Date: Oct 23, 2007 4:39 AM don't fuck with monkeys, man...they'll fucking kill ya!

Delhi has long struggled to cope with marauding monkeys The deputy mayor of the Indian capital Delhi has died a day after being attacked by a horde of wild monkeys.

SS Bajwa suffered serious head injuries when he fell from the first-floor terrace of his home on Saturday morning trying to fight off the monkeys.

The city has long struggled to counter its plague of monkeys, which invade government complexes and temples, snatch food and scare passers-by.

The High Court ordered the city to find an answer to the problem last year.

One approach has been to train bands of larger, more ferocious langur monkeys to go after the smaller groups of Rhesus macaques.

The city has also employed monkey catchers to round them up so they can be moved to forests.

But the problem has persisted.

Culling is seen as unacceptable to devout Hindus, who revere the monkeys as a manifestation of the monkey god Hanuman, and often feed them bananas and peanuts.

Urban development around the city has also been blamed for destroying the monkeys' natural habitat.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/7055625.stm

Write about something real

2007-10-21T12:05:00.000-06:00

Just another set of ideas and topics to write about that don't include your wounded psyche

----------------- Bulletin Message -----------------
From:
Date: Oct 21, 2007 5:41 AM

Looking for something real to write about?

2007-10-16T09:55:00.000-06:00

It is about time that poets stopped writing about their belly button lint, their angst, and the frustration of being a poet. Looking for things to pay attention to? Try the world around you. That's what this blog is going to be about from now on. . . something to write about that isn't you.

Best,

Stephen Morse

Social inequality in US hits new record

By Bill Van Auken

Go To Original

The Internal Revenue Service issued a report last week documenting record levels of social inequality in the United States. According to the data released by the IRS, America's wealthiest 1 percent accounted for 21 percent of all income in 2005, while the bottom 50 percent earned just 12.8 percent of the total national income.

While the share of income taken in by the wealthiest 1 percent rose steeply—up three points from 19 percent in 2004—the share for the half of the population at the bottom of the economic ladder fell during the same period by 0.6 percent.

The IRS data, published in the Wall Street Journal last Friday, are based on "adjusted gross income" reflected in tax returns for 2005. This measure provides a starker and more accurate picture than other indices of the staggering polarization between wealth and poverty in America.

It records individual income after deductions for such expenses as alimony or individual retirement accounts, and includes capital gains, a major source of income for the very rich. It also breaks down the figures relating to the wealthiest social layers, spelling out the obscene levels of income raked in by the top 1 percent and top 0.1 percent, as opposed to other reports that lump this relative handful of multimillionaires and billionaires together with average figures for the top 10 percent.

The share claimed by this wealthiest layer has now surpassed the previous record recorded during the stock market boom of the 1990s. And, while the IRS has kept such data only since 1986, it is believed that the present percentage of the national income going to this layer is higher than at any time since the period that preceded the Wall Street crash of 1929 and the Great Depression.

Even George W. Bush is compelled to acknowledge the prevalence of social inequality in America. In an interview with the Wall Street Journal, the president said, "First of all, our society has had income inequality for a long time." By way of explanation, Bush, the offspring of a family worth many millions, declared, "Skills gaps yield income gaps."

The Wall Street Journal was more candid than the president, acknowledging that while the IRS did not spell out the source of rising income for the wealthy, the "boom on Wall Street has likely played a part."

The newspaper went on to point out the enormous accumulation of wealth on Wall Street itself, citing a recent study from the University of Chicago showing that twice as many Wall Street executives count themselves in the top 0.5 percent income bracket as their counterparts in other sectors of the economy. One of the authors of the study, Joshua Rauh, told the Journal, "It's hard to escape the notion" that the increasing monopolization of wealth at the top is a "Wall Street, financial industry-based story."

Summarizing the study, the Journal reported that "the highest-earning hedge-fund manager earned double in 2005 what the top earner made in 2003, and the top 25 hedge-fund managers earned more in 2004 than the chief executives of all the companies in the Standard & Poor's 500 stock index combined." The study also found "profits per equity partner at the top 100 law firms doubling between 1994 and 2004, to over $1 million in 2004 dollars."

The data released by the IRS indicated that the minimum annual income needed to make it into the top 1 percent rose 3 percent between 2000 and 2005 to $364,647.

On the opposite end of the social scale, the median income of tax filers had fallen 2 percent between 2000 and 2005 to just $30,881, with fully half of the population struggling to get by on less than that.

Earlier data released by the US Census Bureau established that every section of the population outside of the top 5 percent saw their real income fall between 2000 and 2005.

According to one recent study, while real income for the bottom 90 percent of the population fell by 11 percent between 1973 and 2005, those in the top .01 percent bracket, comprising some 14,000 households with annual incomes averaging nearly $13 million, saw their take increase by 250 percent over the same period.

What emerges from the data are the effects of a long-standing social policy involving a massive transfer of wealth from working people, the great majority of the population, to a handful of the super-wealthy, who have enriched themselves at the expense of the rest of society.

This is not merely an American, but rather a global policy that has been carried out on the backs of the working class of every country. A study released last week by the Boston Consulting Group found that the world's 9.6 million millionaires—comprising just 0.7 percent of the earth's population—now control $33.2 trillion in wealth—roughly a third of all the wealth in the world. According to the study, the world's wealthiest 0.1 percent—those with $5 million or more in financial assets—now owns 17.5 percent of global wealth.

Meanwhile, half of the world's population—some 3 billion people—live on less than $2 a day.

The social cost of this vast accumulation of wealth by the financial elite grows daily. A report issued last week by the Center for Economic and Policy Research and the Center for Social Policy at the University of Massachusetts in Boston found that 41 million working families in America—one in five—are unable to cover the costs of basic necessities with the money they earn working for low pay and no benefits.

The study found that many of these workers are ineligible for federal support in the form of child care assistance, the Earned Income Tax Credit, Food Stamps, housing assistance, Medicaid or the State Children's Health Insurance Program, and Temporary Assistance to Needy Families. Eligibility for such assistance has been steadily tightened by federal and state governments.

The demagogy of the current crop of Democratic presidential candidates about defending the "middle class" notwithstanding, these policies have been enacted by Democratic and Republican administrations alike. The growth of income inequality in America has continued unbroken since 1973, spurred by the high-interest-rate, recessionary policies enacted by Federal Reserve Board Chairman Paul Volcker—Democratic President Jimmy Carter's appointee—with the deliberate aim of driving up unemployment, slashing wages and unleashing a big business offensive against the working class.

It was under the Clinton administration that the top 1 percent set their previous record share of the national income—20.8 percent in 2000, Clinton's last year in the White House. This was up from about 14 percent when he first took office.

The increased concentration of wealth was fueled by the Democratic administration's deregulation of the financial markets, which spurred the financial bubble of the '90s that gave rise to much of today's financial elite. At the other end of the social ladder, the Clinton White House carried out a ruthless war against the working class and poor, carrying through its pledge to "end welfare as we know it" and slashing other areas of social spending.

From the beginning of the Bush administration, the Democrats have helped pass round after round of tax cuts for the rich, running into the trillions of dollars. Even a limited proposal to close a tax loophole that has allowed hedge and equity fund managers earning hundreds of millions of dollars a year to pay a lower tax rate than a bus driver or an office worker was shelved earlier this month by the Democratic Senate leadership, in deference to the party's well-heeled contributors on Wall Street.

The inequality that pervades every facet of American society inevitably finds its expression within the Democratic Party, which, while posturing as the party of the people, remains a political instrument of the ruling financial elite. Among the Democratic candidates, the three front-runners—Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama and John Edwards—are all millionaires.

Roughly half of the US Senate is made up millionaires, many of them Democrats. The House, meanwhile, is led by Speaker Nancy Pelosi, who in her latest financial disclosure forms reported that she and her investor husband conducted some 30 stock sales and purchases last year, many of them involving sums up to $1 million each. She also reported owning a California vineyard, valued between $5 million and $25 million.

The Democrats will do no more to reverse the growth of social inequality than they will to end the war in Iraq. In the final analysis, the explosion of militarism abroad and the destruction of working class living standards at home are two sides of a common political agenda aimed at funneling the wealth of the US and the world into the coffers of a financial oligarchy.

2003-10-24T10:52:00.000-06:00

"The Garden "
"Show me your garden and I shall tell you who you are."
Alfred Austin (1857 -1929)

1. THE BEGINNING

2003-10-24T10:50:00.000-06:00

"The Garden "
"Show me your garden and I shall tell you who you are."
Alfred Austin (1857 -1929)

1. THE BEGINNING

2003-10-24T10:49:00.000-06:00

"The Garden "
"Show me your garden and I shall tell you who you are."
Alfred Austin (1857 -1929)

1. THE BEGINNING

2003-10-24T10:40:00.000-06:00

"The Garden "
"Show me your garden and I shall tell you who you are."
Alfred Austin (1857 -1929)

1. THE BEGINNING

2003-10-24T10:35:00.000-06:00

this is a test
"Sometimes Life Is For The Birds"

(sometimes life is for the birds. can you hear them?)

5 billion
A baby born today will be the
5 billionth human alive
Born poor, probably sick
Eat-Drink, Eat-Drink
Buy. Buy.
Eat-Drink, Eat-Drink
Haw,, Haw, Haw. The baby may live
Fast food, Fast Car
Eat-Drink, Eat Drink
Buy, Buy, Buy.
Help it, Help me, Help us

Stephen Morse: A poet's view

This offer expires when I do. You can get a pdf cheap download___The Boone Farm Apple Wine edition___

The Dark Spots are CrowsThe Dark Spots are Crows (book)

Lucille Lang Day

The Golden Shadow Poets

poetry

Not only am I getting old, defective genes, buy Myspace

Pure phonography

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Juicy Magnifier

poems

flattened skunks

Taming the poem

halfway through 2008

2007 shudders to an end

Shadow Killing

Bo Bice must see video

This with a littlle jiggling is alreadya poem

Write about something real

Looking for something real to write about?

Social inequality in US hits new record

By Bill Van Auken

This offer expires when I do. You can get a pdf cheap download_The Boone Farm Apple Wine edition_

Happy Anniversary
2007Happy Anniversary
2007 (book)

The Dark Spots
are CrowsThe Dark Spots
are Crows (book)

The Dark Spots
are CrowsThe Dark Spots
are Crows (book)