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Tuli Kupferberg – Interview by Jason Gross (June 1997)

Tuli Kupferberg – Interview by Matthew Paris (2004)

Poems From The 90′s: Tuli Speaks His Mind…

The Links:

Rak Razam Interviews Filmaker Jan Kounen: Psychedelic States…

Dutch protesters make bid to save “magic mushrooms”

Forget wine—California’s biggest crop is bright green and funny-smelling

Report: Schwarzenegger says marijuana is not a drug





Tuli Kupferberg – Interview by Jason Gross (June 1997)
PSF: What were you working on before the Fugs?
Well, I was the world’s greatest poet before I became the world’s oldest rock n’roll star. I wasn’t with the Fugs until I was 42 but before that my life was trivial. I went to graduate school for sociology in Brooklyn. I dropped out and became a bohemian, living in Greenwich Village. The rest is mystery and history. It’s all one blur now.
I was a free-formist. I never took to the traditional forms. I never bothered to learn them. It’s OK to learn the old forms though and study what you’ve inherited in any art. I valued spontaneity a lot and being young, you’re always afraid that you’re going to be overwhelmed by the masters so you try to avoid it.
PSF: What kind of things were influencing you then?
The usual things. Ego, sex, money, in that order I think. Money wasn’t actually up there though. You could actually live on much less than you can today. I was sort of influenced by anybody I read.
PSF: How did you get interested in politics?
I was very political at an early age. When I was in my pre-teens they had those ‘Hoover-villes’ during the Depression. My father had a retail store that failed three times. We were just on the brink of going on welfare. You’d be amazed at how that can make you politically and economically conscious. My generation really experienced adversity so a dime is still big money to me! You had to be REALLY STUPID not to be political then. Even when things got better, you didn’t see it was better for you personally. It could always happen again and it always does. Besides the economy, you also had wars. When there’s a crisis in society, sometimes you see things more clearly. Otherwise, it just kind of waves right over you, especially when you’re young.
PSF:What did think of the Beat movement when it first started happening?
I remember being shocked by it. I guess I was still in some sort of traditional mode. Shocked, jealousy and then adaptation. It was liberating. I was shocked by Ed Sander’s freedom of sexual expression. I’m sure people were shocked by mine when I started. Ginsberg is your best example of a liberating force. It’s not just the language or the freedom of the language because that just reflects character structure. A person who drops dead or wants to kill someone would use all those words you’re not supposed to use. It’s more than language. It’s attitude towards sexuality and human relations along with domination and love. It’s not that people who shout about sexual freedom understand everything that’s involved. In order to have good sex, you have to have good human relationships and vice versa. When I grew up, in my community, you weren’t going to have sex until you got married- this was a middle-class Jewish community. Maybe you went to a prostitute… But that gradually broke down. That was all for the good and not just for me but also for most of America.
PSF: So you got to be part of the Beats yourself then?
Everyone was. But I felt that they had a heritage with the bohemians. The term comes from 12th century University of Paris. The craziest students came from Bohemia and they gave them this name. There’s this old tradition of living outside of the mores of society. Until the burgeouis revolution, most artists lived on the patronage of the ruling class. LA VIE DE BOHEME, the libetto for that opera, tells you what was happening then in the 18th century. So that’s a 150 year old tradition that’s still going on. It used to be linked to geography with places like New York, San Francisco, Munich, Paris. But now, with the Internet, you could be crazy, wild, free and self-destructive anywhere you want. But hopefully, there’s still communities of people out there. Utopian colonies who are just friends.
PSF: Before the Fugs, did you have any interest in music?
I’m not a musician- I can’t read music. The only thing I know how to play is the radio. I sing and write and compose songs. I have a memory of thousands of songs. There was always some music in the house. I seem to remember melodies better than some musicians I know. I had a sliver of that particular kind of intelligence. I listened to a lot of pop music on the radio but there were no musicians around me. Poetry and music used to be the same thing so if I had an interest in poetry, it was part of a musical interest as well.
Speech is music. It’s bad music. Some languages are very musical. When you hear certain people read, it’s almost music. Some people who do music, it’s almost speech. It’s a continuance.
PSF: A lot of your music comes from chants and sing-a-longs.
I like to invovle the audience like a number of writers, directors and political people do. I like to break down the barriers. The artist wants to move people and see the results. That’s why performing is more pleasurable than just writing, to me at least.
PSF: How did you start out with Ed and the Fugs?
We were both poets on the lowest East Side. We met at a place called the Metro. They sold furniture and since they had the tables and chairs there already, so they decided to open a coffee shop. Once the coffee house was established, it became the center of poetry readings. This was in the early ’60s. After the poetry, we would go to a place called the Dom on St. Marks. We would go there and try to dance, listening to the Beatles and the Stones. The early Beatles were not great poets but they did become great poets later. We decided that we could do something like that. So we decided to enter the field and we were sort of an instant hit. We had a wide range- Ed was a wild, crazy, mid-Western young man and I was a New York radical Jew. So together he had everything or, as some people would say, nothing.
PSF: Peter Stampfel said that he was impressed with all the songs that you and had written before the Holy Modal Rounders joined you.
He was a great help to us. He sort of gave us the illusion that we were musicians and a band. We were sort of a punk band. Our idea was that anybody could do this. Peter and Steve Weber gave us a lot of encouragement. We didn’t give a fuck actually. We weren’t out to do high art. For our first performances, our friends joined us on stage and carried on. We had a few people who would write songs like Ted Berrigan. The most archetypical Fug line was ‘I ain’t ever gonna go to Vietnam, I prefer to stay here and screw your mom’ which was from Ted. That’s from ‘Doing Alirght.’ That was enough to get us beaten up if we did it in the right place.
With the War going on then, it was a desperate time. There were thousands of dead and all the young men were facing that attempt to murder them. The nation was still supporting ‘our boys.’ We were really the ones being patriotic because we were trying to save lives. Other people were just trying to kill other people that they had never seen. That’s what war is- you go somewhere and kill people you’ve never met.
PSF: What happened with the Fugs after Peter and Steve left?
We got other musicians. I was sort of opposed with the idea of perfecting our music. I felt that it would interfere with our message: love, sex, dope. The only thing I think is safe or worth doing is marijuana. Also, as Ed put it ‘all kinds of freedoms given to us that the First Ammendment hadn’t taken care of.’ We were poets. Poets can say whatever they want about anything. So we felt that we did that with music. Pop music from the ’20s to the ’60s was mostly courtship music. In pop music, the Beatles sang abou
t everything in life and so did everyone else, including us.
PSF: Do you think a lot of people who were getting serious about politics at that time were phonies or were they genuine?
There’s the problem that if you keep faking something long enough, you start to believe your own lies. But I think mostly they were genuine. The ’60s were a time of great crisis in America. The war was the focal point. There was also minorites who demanded equal rights and the womens’ movement and various kinds of socialism, communism and anarchism. Then you saw that these things were connected. For instance, a woman couldn’t have equal pay unless you had some sort of control over the economy unless you fixed it in the law (though I really don’t believe in the law). It’s still inter-related but people aren’t conscious of this. You have to be very clever, quick and lucky to escape such an oppressive system.
PSF: You think that you did that?
Well, we were never arrested, which is amazing. We were threatened many times. Ed has these FBI advisories. Someone in the FBI probably realized what a farce it would be and what asses they would make of themselves if they put Ed on the stand. ‘What exactly do you mean by ‘Coca-Cola Douche’ Mr. Sanders?’ ‘You know, Coke! No Pepsi!’ There were suggestions that we’d be prosectued but nothing ever happened. People in the government aren’t THAT stupid. After ‘Howl’ was being prosecuted, it became the most famous poem in the country and thousands of people wanted to read it. So if we HAD been arrested, we would have probably sold a few hundred thousand more albums.
PSF: Since you were talking about it before, what kind of interactive things were you doing with the Fugs?
Pete Seeger used to do it but going way back. There were whole societies that had huge choral groups. Mass singing was done with the Welsh and the Russians. You could do it in two ways. You could print up the lyrics and force the audience to sing with you. You could also repeat a line or do the song once and then give the audience the line. Depending on what mood they’re in, you get audience response. It depends on the song too. The best audience was the third audience at midnight on a Saturday at a club we used to play at on MacDougal Street. They were all drunk so you could come out on stage and wave your hands and they’d scream and yell for you. In our first performances in the East Village, the audience would come on stage and do all sorts of things.
In the sixties, we were really the USO of the Left. We did a lot of benefits. We were one of the most conscious bands but we weren’t the only ones. It was really the attitude and style, which later became co-opted. In all due modesty, I don’t think there other bands that were as radical then. Zappa was kind of a cultural radical but he was a liberterian and a political idiot as far as I’m concerned. He started out in advertising and he stayed there to some extent. Ginsberg started out in advertising but he never looked back. The Who, The Stones and Beatles were saying very radical things. A lot of folk music is culturally and politically radical. There is a tradition in folk music for that though a lot of the songs are bad. It goes back to the Wobblies in the 19th Century. Woody Guthrie also. Dylan started very political. Phil Ochs too. Folk purists used argue about playing rock n’roll but good music is good music where ever it comes from. Music by itself can move people, sometimes very destructively like with a military march.
PSF: A lot of your songs involved writing new lyrics for songs.
It’s a very old tradition. I used it a lot when I didn’t have a band. The earliest singers I remember that did this was (Martin) Luther who took popular songs of the period and made church hymns out them. He said ‘why should the devil have the best of tunes.’ Then Joe Hill in the early part of the 1900′s used church hymns and changed them into radical pop songs.

Long-haired preachers come out every night

Try and tell you what’s wrong and what’s right

But when asked about something to eat

They are sure, they are sure to repeat

‘You’ll get pie…

You’ll get pie in the sky when you die (that’s a lie)

Work and pray

Live on hay

You’ll get pie in the sky when you die (it’s a lie)’
So it’s an old tradition. I call them para-songs.

PSF: Did the Fugs have any particular goals?
Our goal was to make the revolution. That would have been a complete revolution, not just an economic or political one. We had utopian ideals and those are the best ideals. What happened was that this movement that flourished then had a lot of problems. A lot of promises weren’t as deeply rooted or as well grounded as we thought. The technological revolution and the movement of world capital created problems that no one had ever thought possible. The sixties never connected. It was basically a youth movement and basically a middle-class, male movement. That’s not enough. There were students but the war fed itself on that part of the movement and the previous radical history. There were a lot of ‘grown-ups’ and academic people and ordinary people but its roots were not deep enough and its analysis (Marxist and anarchist) wasn’t enough to take over. We didn’t know how to get from our good ideas to the society we wanted.
Then it slowly collapsed once the draft ended and once the war ended. Obviously the forces of the old society (religion and tradition) were much stronger than we thought. So things continued the way they are. We still don’t have the ideology to get out of this. We never connected to the working class and now they seem to be disappearing into microchips- you have a lot of ‘surplus’ people. We need some sort of understanding of what’s going on because everything is out of control, especially out of our control. We have very little influence, we radicals today.
The sixties were a complete surprise because in the fifties, American society was just recovering from World War II and young man just wanted to go back to school and start a family. There was no politics. Then the sixties happened. You can never predict when it’s going to happen because it’s rooted in human nature that you can only take so much oppression before you do something. But sometimes you do the wrong thing. We don’t have the answers but if they only gave us a chance… It was not a complete failure because a lot of the things we believed in have gone a long way to being realized. We were not the idealists. We manifested them and learned from other people.
PSF: With the Fugs, what was happening with the band after ’65?
I think that our songs developed and become more sophisticated and complicated. We spread into different areas and the music got better. I don’t think we should have disbanded. It was due to personal conflicts which I really don’t completely understand. We would have been really needed in the ’70s because that was a slow decline where everything that that generation thought was going to happen, just disappeared slowly.
PSF: What were you doing after the Fugs broke up?
I formed a group called the Revolting Theater, which sort of carried on in the tradition of the Fugs. Basically we acted out artifacts that we had found in society- advertisements or crazy songs or poetry. That had a mild reason for being. We played mostly at colleges. Then I formed a group called the Fuxxons and that was me and anybody that was around- we did some Fugs songs and other stuff.
Then in ’84, the Fugs were reformed. I would have been always ready to reform but I think Ed decided that it should happen at that particular time. We did a reunion concert with new musicians at the Bottom Line. A lot of people came and it was fun. We’ve been playing on and off since then. I don’t think that we had the impact that we did in the sixties for a number of reasons. We did the Real Woodstock Festival in ’94 where Ed lives. That same year, we played in Italy.
PSF: Before you said the Fugs were about dope and fucking. What about now?
No, I said that the Fugs were about dope and fucking and any kind of mind liberation that didn’t kill you or damage your internal organs. I was always careful about that because I’d been a medical librarian and I knew all about that. My phrase was ‘better to be a live ogre than a dead saint.’ I knew a lot of dead saints. It was about politics and it was about life and relations between people and ‘freedom,’ meaning the ability to explore and express yourself and other peoples’ feelings. We were all about creating a utopia and we had our ideas about what it was. We tried to work for it and to live it because we weren’t going to wait- ‘we want the world and we want it now.’ We were impatient, especially in the sixties where young people faced death and they weren’t going to wait to enjoy anything after they were dead.
It’s a mistake to put it (freedom) in terms of physiology. Nothing wrong with that. The basic unit of human society is the human body. You have to know how to use it and enjoy it. That’s only part of it though because if you have a human body and you put it in the dark and leave them there, you get something that isn’t quite human. It needs nourishment and human society. It doesn’t have to be the patriarchal family. In the age of AIDS, I recommend group marriages with four couples. More than eight people would be too much.
Bascially, the Fugs are the same except we’re more refined and more clever and more worked out and more beautifully put and less listened to.
PSF: You were saying that things are different for the Fugs now.
What’s different isn’t the Fugs- it’s the society around which we function. There was more of a community for the arts before. If you lived in the Village, you knew the film makers and the painters. Due to mass media, there’s no much of a community because there are many, many small communities and groups. If you go into Tower Records, you can find 2500 bands- that’s good because it means a lot of people are doing things. But audiences have also become more broken down. There’s no large community. The question is whether the times create the great artist or whether the great artist helps to create the times. It works together. If you’re incredibly great, you can surpass the times. If you’re just a little good, then times will push you onward and make you better. If the times are terrible, you’ve got to work against all of it. It’s really complicated but we’re always ready for more good music and more good times.

Tuli & Ed Saunders

Interview With Tuli Kupferberg – 2004/ Matthew Paris

M.P. – Tuli, you started out as a young anarchist; were you Kropotkinesque or Bakuninesque?
T.K. – Well, actually I was a Stalinist. In those days everybody was a Stalinist but very shortly I became a Trotskyite or demi-Trotskyite, and then I became very confused. All those terrible questions were being asked about the trials, though other people were asking them. I was very young, about thirteen; it was the Depression so there was a lot of motivation around.
M.P. – Why Stalinism? He was a Russian nationalist and Trotsky international; how did you defend that?
T.K. – When you’re thirteen you don’t really defend too much. It’s just that the Communist Party was the most active group around and they would have first shot, so to speak, at a young person who became politically concerned. When I went to New Utrecht High School it was a hotbed of political radicalism; all Jewish areas were. (laughs) They were the children of immigrant workers a lot of whom were radicals of various kinds.
M.P. – How do you feel about those days when causes were so clear and simple?
T.K. – 0, if they would only come back! (laughs) Maybe simplicity was part of being young, but Fascism, Hitler helped crystalize us. I think there’s a lot to that theory that Western Capitalism built Hitler up, particularly. France and England, to devour the Soviet Union. My God; he didn’t do exactly what they wanted! Maybe the telephone receiver wasn’t too clear.

It’s peculiar because American ideology was Part of this simplicity, such as Manifest Destiny, Progress. The easy way out was simplicity. Whenever you found a Socialism you didn’t like you’d say, this is not Socialism. In the end, the ideology was not developed enough to explain or foresee things. Therefore we had these incredible mistakes, if you can call what cost millions of people their lives a mistake happened.
Marx predicted a lot of things wrong, made a lot of mistakes, and had a lot of success; he predicted the revolution would happen in a developed country like England and it never did. Revolution in Russia because it was undeveloped stood outside the theory. In retrospect one can say that both Marxism and Anarchist theory had serious defects. The Anarchists say their theory has never been tried; that’s one of the faults. If it never took power anywhere, it’s a defect.
M.P. – Aren’t these etudes in artifice that stand apart from Nature?
T.K. – Nature is a word I never use; I think everything is natural, even artificial things; it’s a different kind of nature. Not everything that’s natural is wonderful as anyone who eats the leaves of the hemlock will easily find out.
I don’t associate with any group; maybe no group will associate with me. I think the 60s was a search for community because American society has none; it has small groups organized to exploit small groups-and then larger groups. At first anarchism has to be an attitude; it starts with disrespect for institutions. If you have a general disrespect, you might slight something worthwhile.
M.P. – How did you meet Ed Sanders?
T.K. – I guess I met him at the Metro, a coffee house on Second Avenue; we had readings in the free art forms of the period. You were there.
M.P. – Yeah. If people didn’t like the poetry there was some rather violent criticism of it.
T.K. – I think that’s all right.
M.P. – Also there was utter freedom to say whatever you wanted; that was revolutionary.
T.K. – Well, Paul Goodman always said you could always say whatever you wanted as long as it didn’t have any effect.
Only In America. The owner was not exactly a poetical type. It was a commercial thing for him; he was sort of a Birchite actually. The poets brought him a lot of business so he was quite happy with that. It had a reputation of a place where people read and met their friends in those kinds of circles.
M.P. – There was you, Ed Sanders, Allen Katzman, Allen Ginsberg; you never knew what was going to happen. One girl read tragic limericks. Ed Sanders ran it, right?
T.K. – No, it passed through several hands because it got too disgusting for one person to do all that organizing and balance these inflated egos against one another. One of the games was getting the perfect place on the schedule. You didn’t want to read too early, but you didn’t want to read too late. You had to find the place where the audience was at the perfect pitch of receptivity.
M.P. – Those were eight hour sessions. When was that?
T.K. – 0, it would be a little past the middle, generally. In my novel which has the same unmentionable title as a magazine I helped edit, I discuss it; if anyone can convince a publisher to do it, they can ponder over it too.
M.P. – There was one poet, who seemed to have bought a costume out of an old IWW shop, who’d bring a poem of 30,000 pages, read excerpts, and always have a different girlfriend. He was very serious.
T.K. – There were thousands of people like that; you’ll have to be more specific.
M.P. – He looked like a Warner Brothers fantasy of a dangerous Red; no smiles.
T.K. – I got inoculated against bad sentimental poetry there. I didn’t get pickled, just sweet and sour. I once was going to do an anthology called The World’s Worst Poems. It was very hard to do, because no matter how hard I tried, there would always be something good in one of them, or if the poem were totally bad, it became something else: a perfectly funny thing, actually.
M.P. – It’s a virtuoso trick to be banal all the time.
T.K. – The trouble with a cliché is that you don’t hear it at all. Newspapers are a means of non-communication; you have to read between the lines. I make a lot of poems out of them but sometimes you want to rip out the paper and recite it as the joke of the month.
M.P. – Could you talk about the politics in your mag with the unmentionable name?
T.K. – Not all of it was. It was A Magazine of the Arts. You’re allowed to say Arts, I think. Ed Sanders was the editor. He was sort of a lyrical wild man; he just sort of spoke those words quite naturally. It’s really in the American tradition.
Ed is from Missouri; there really is a lot of Mark Twain in him. He gathered the liveliest things he could find around the East Village at that time and put them all together. He didn’t worry about language and he got a pretty lively magazine.
M.P. – How do you feel about Al Goldstein’s mag, to not use another word)?
T.K. – The sexism seems to be so obvious and stupid that I don’t consider it to be very harmful. I like the humor of it, the lightness it brings to sex. I think if you talk to Al he’ll deny that he’s sexist.
M.P. – Yeah, I talked to Al. He says that. He says it’s Flaubertian satire.
T.K. – I don’t know whether it started out that way. If you carry anything to an extreme it becomes ridiculous. I’ve had this experience with satire: you have to know what you’re doing, but if you’re willing to take the risk, you’ve got to make yourself very clear.
M.P. – Did you like working for the East Village Other?
T.K. — I was a free lance as opposed to a slave-lance journalist. It had some possibilities; it did some good things.

M.P. – How did The Fugs start?
T.K. – It was Ed’s idea. We had been going to the Dom, which was an ethnic bar around the corner from the Metro; you remember it-we were listening to the Beatles, and the Stones on the jukebox. Ed saw a logical connection to putting that music and that energy into poetry.

I thought it was a great idea; I picked the name. We had been performing; those readings were sort of performances. There’s always been a link between music and poetry, as Ed knew being a classical scholar, so we just connected them. A lot of it

really worked.
M.P. – How did you like touring?
T.K. – It was a mixed bag. It was nice to go somewhere you wanted to go, but it wasn’t good to leave some place you wanted to stay. Motel rooms are not the most wonderful place. But it was exciting to meet the folks out there. At first it’s all very exciting and you accept it uncritically, but then you begin to wonder what exactly is being adulated and why, and is it overdone, overblown, is it wrong, is the whole idea of the Artist or anybody as hero valid? In the media it’s almost impossible to escape that role.
The form demanded that I have a broader sense of humor. Since none of us were musicians we had to do more than music. Since Ed wouldn’t let me sing, I became more an actor.

There were some good reasons why I shouldn’t have sung. But we were working in the pattern of the folk balladeer, the minnesinger, which I’m still doing; the traditions became confusing because the music got in the way of the poetry. It was at times too loud for the music, and no point to us, though we had good musicians.
M.P. – Do you think the 60s idea of an honest life was a dream?
T.K. – It’s not the first time this dream has been around. I can remember the dream of the 30s that died in the 50s. Another was alive in the 60s and died in the 70s, and it’s older than that. Nothing is wasted; no voice is wholly lost.
M.P. – Do you feel that your historical role is over as Trotsky’s was in Mexico?
T.K. – Did Trotsky really feel that? Why did he keep on writing then? If one particular role is over, it’s up to you and your sense of self to look for another role which is not necessarily a contradiction of the old one but will continue the things you want to do.

Poems From The 90′s: Tuli Speaks His Mind…

tune: chorus of “Because the Night (Belong to Lovers)”

by Patti Smith & Bruce Springsteen
Because the state belongs to fuckers

Because the state belongs to them

Alpha primate otherfuckers

Wasps in the edenic glen
& because the state was made by fuckers

Because the state was made for them

Pleasure-hating motherfuckers

Lover-baiting sons a guns
And the state holds monopoly of force

“Cop killers” also mean “cops who kill”

& tho the idea is somewhat coarse

Wilheim Reich might hold: “That’s a sexual thrill”
& because the state seducts us early

From 3 years on to postgrad docs:

Because the state educts us early

Dripdries our brains, hangs ‘em out like sox
& because the state thrives with armies

Protects its properties thru blacks & blues

Soldier boys are never called “murderers”

But what the hell is what they do?
& soon no doubt when we’re alone

The govt’ll tape your cunt & my bone

The state is a devil disguised as God

That throws its laws like a lightening rod
& this “executive committee of the ruling class”

Shoves its media up our ass

Will the evil of two lessers set you free?

Now the question’s: “To be internet or be TV?”
But because the state belongs to fuhrers

Because the state kills us for fun

Because the state belongs to furors

Because the state thinks only with the gun
& because the state belongs to fuckers

Because the state belongs to them

Gotta underthrow them motherfuckers

To return us to our edenic glen
O because the state belongs to fuckers

Because the state belongs to them

Oh we’ll have to change them all to lovers

& we’ll have to try & start again

Yeah we’ll have to change us all to lovers

Oh we’ll have to try to begin again….


URANUS (to the tune of AQUARIUS from ‘Hair’)
This song is dedicated to the Passers of the Welfare Reform Bill
When the stools are in the Gringrich House

And Senators align with Mars

Then Greed will guide our country

Pure Ego steer our Pol-Stars
This is the dawning of the Age of Uranus

The Age of Uranus

Uranus, Uranus
Simony, misunderstanding

Cruelty, sad lusts abounding

Lots more lying and derision

Golden parachutes their vision

Mystic racist fulmination

Nation-soul in constipation
Uranus, Uranus
When the Pricks are in the Clintrich House

And Congressmen are paged with bribes

Then Idiots will damn our destiny

And Shits will ruin our lives
This is the dawning of the Age of Uranus

The Age of Uranus

Uranus, Uranus
Conspiracy and underhandling

Media control astounding

Circuses with bread omission

Downsize lives without contrition
Uranus, Uranus
Now the Ghouls are in the Masters House

And Murderers kill us en masse

Now the Rule they Rule the Planet

And wipeout the Underclass
This is the Sundown of the Age of Uranus

The Age of Uranus

Uranus, Uranus
Let the Moonshine

Let the Moonshine

Let the Moonshine

Let the Moonshine in!

Tune: ‘Paint It Black’ (Rolling Stones) with spoken extensions

NOTE: Red & Black are the Anarchist colors
I see the White House & I want to paint it Red

Rabbi Jesus whispers to me: ‘Besser Red zan Dead.’

I see the Kremlin & I’m gonna paint it black

Clinton’s toasting Yeltsin: ‘Zdrovye Bourgeois Hack!’
I spoke to Tolstoy: ‘Emma Goldman’s coming back!’

He sat there writing on a shard of red & black

Black & Red. Coming back!

Red & Black. They’re comin’ back!
The homeless Alien morphs to Newt’s Sonovabitch

The Species (social) Being’s served up: dessert for the rich

The Lions of Reason strobe the deep grave of yr dream

The Lamb of Love hides in the Caves of Academe
I hear the students as they wonder what comes next

They’re forced to take the test but do not have the text

They wander thru the World Wide Internet

They still believe they’ll find the Finland Station yet!

(in St. Petersberg where Lenin entered Russia in 1917)
I heard Mohr (Marx) & General (Engels) laughing in their Hell

They said Bakunyin had a funny tale to tell

‘Anarcho Pacifist Bolshelvism never had its chance!’

Perhaps we could invite St. Francis to the dance? And hey St Paul & Jacob Frank!

(18th Cent PolJewCath pansexual Messiah)

I see the White House & I want to paint it Red

Willy Reich is shouting at me: ‘Better Bed than Dead!’

Now Billy’s roasting Yelstin: ‘So long Bourgeois Flack!’

I spy the Kremlin Hey we’re gonna take it back!









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