wNaked News
In which my articles, poems and random thoughts will appear. See also my website at stewalbert.com


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wSaturday, May 03, 2003


Thoughts turning to dreams
continuing to speak
in disconnected fragments
of a busted sentence.

Putting them down on paper and electricity
in chaos
hidden meanings in the scroll:

After May Day
the Red Light
burned too bright
and shattered cosmically
hiding in strange religions
weird rhythms and blues
rebellions and rages

Picking up the pieces
in poems and promenades for peace
not giving up after May Day.


Fuel efficiency
is at an all time low.
Cars have never been so big and fast.
America never used this much oil.
Never burned up so much ozone layer

We could force the industry to improve efficiency.
But that would be socialism.
Better conquer Baghdad,
That would be patriotism.

posted by stew at 10:54 AM

wFriday, May 02, 2003

Strutting His Hour

Dubya came Tom Cruising
onto the US Lincoln deck
nice gig for a draft dodger
strutting with helmet in hand
big-lying his head off.

Wonder why Americans dumbly believe
Saddam was behind 9/11?
Dubya almost said it again
on the US “fool all of the people, all of the time” Lincoln.

Bush didn’t mention
Bin Laden hating the “atheistic socialistic Saddam”
and all the fundamentalists
celebrating the dictator’s demeaning departure.

And he didn't mention
the death ray weapons
of mass poisoning and bad movies
are missing.

America’s unemployment rate jumped to 6%
George Bush is giving money to the rich.
A presidential election will probably take place.
Dubya re-nominated at Ground Zero

Bush has got to be figuring
which war with who?
Beats daddy’s jinx.

posted by stew at 8:49 AM

wThursday, May 01, 2003


Happy May Day Comrades
it’s my wedding anniversary.
I met Judy in 1968
on the Berkeley Campus
it was Stop the Draft Week
and she was new in town.

We married on May 1, 1977
and our marriage
outlasted our movement.

Oh Comrades,
If only our communal consciousness
and idealistic wisdom
had been as enduring as
the love of a man and a woman.

I thought I could count on you Comrade
but you were absorbed
into the great American vacuum cleaner
of lost memory.

makes it possible to hope
that Dubya will walk naked and ashamed.

If we could stick together
bound by love, irony and kindness
then anything good
must still be possible.

posted by stew at 9:20 AM

wWednesday, April 30, 2003

Rules Of Order

An old friend spends a few days with us.
He’s on his way to South and North Korea.
He’s always on his way.

He says the Koreans are madly freaked.
While Dubya and The Imperials joke about what nation
is next for conquest.
The terified Koreans
their card is coming up.

What torture to live under Rummy’s rules of order.
The paranoia of prison
combined with illusions of sovereignty.

An American first strike on the North?
A Northern strike on the South?
Maybe Japan gets hit for good measure?
What about California?

No strangers on the train to damnation
the Koreans once flamed in ruin and rubble
a nation burning from top to bottom
in hot blood and cold war.
American and Chinese generals pulling bloody strings.
It made for a great television show.
Remember Hawkeye and Mash?

The Servant

Neo-Convict Richard Perle Victorious
served black Arab coffee
during the Iraqi hell war
he now jokes about following up
with Korean green tea.

posted by stew at 9:29 AM

wTuesday, April 29, 2003

Straight Shooters

Thirteen Iraqis shot down dead
protesting the US military occupation of a school.

“A good occupation,”
that’s what the Israelis said
their west bank rule would be.
When the territory returned to the Arab world
its citizens would be
good will ambassadors for Israel.

Their occupation turned hideous
destroying in its different ways
an Arab and a Jewish nation.
Some Israelis then admitted,
there are no good occupations.

Gun battles in Mosul.
Kids throw rocks at soldiers.
“How do we know they ain’t grenades?”
Kids die just like in Palestine.

Some Iraqis firing weapons into the air
“Happy Birthday Saddam!”
Marines shoot straight into their heart.

Someday these killers will return home.
And we will learn,
there are no good occupations.

posted by stew at 10:02 AM

wMonday, April 28, 2003

Life Is But A Dream

The conquerers seem lost
in the liquidity of dreams.
Moving in a world
of unfixed meanings
and evaporating significance,
hopes and horrors.

They issue passes and permissions to the fundamentalists
and arrest their own puppets.
How to get from point A to point anywhere?

They bombed out the electricity to get Saddam off the tube.
They turn it back on
and Iraqis watch Iranian television.

They must look to the proto-theocracy
to provide their law and order.
Saddam’s old cops aren’t working out.
And “shock and awe” didn’t frighten looters

Where are the pro American rallies?
And Arabs singing the Star Spangled Banner,
wearing buttons proclaiming in Arabic
love me, I’m a Texan.

Did we wreck Iraq
and spend a fortune
in lives
in four thousand year memories
to make Mullahs mighty?

What kind of American Dream is this anyway?

posted by stew at 12:22 PM

wSunday, April 27, 2003

Pray For The Angels

In the lost angels of the Bush night
I embrace anger
over the imprisonment of reason.
Psychos rule and anyone who talks logic
talks French.

Irony and surrealism are my self defense.
My head averts the unbearable pain
lurking near my soul.
The death of beauty.

Working a passion for technology
the Bush gangsters don’t even pretend
they love sunsets.
or a god that glistens in the energy of dreams.
Hamburger esthetics rules their agenda of domination.

To embrace this loss?
Too great is the damage.
No weapons existing to protect me.
The despair following my escape into the trees
with a power saw
and smog.

Avoid the greatest pain.
Combating for reason’s return.

Pray that beauty follows its friend.

posted by stew at 11:04 AM