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Burst – Old White Man Hating on Stuff

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Trent Lewin

Burst – Old White Man Hating on Stuff

 

I don’t wish to offend with this bit, but anger is as anger sees it.  I respect people’s right to speak.  I respect my own to respond.  This is written in response to a blogger on WordPress, who I thought I might actually name here but won’t.  There’s little point.

 

Old White Man Hating on Stuff

 

Hey old white guy, I heard

You won’t write a book about Islam

Because maniacs may come and get you

Well I heard and I thought

About maniacs and massacres

But all I could really do

Is think about you

 

You said Muslims are strange

Their god is ungodly

You say they don’t smile

They have no music or culture

Because Lady Gaga is Mozart right

And Fear Factor is epic tv

They lack art and can’t inspire imagination?

You said that?  Maybe

Behind your computer think you’re tough

Must not get laid enough

Breathing always in a huff

Spewing all that hatred stuff

This is the reason we’re rough

The answer to why we’re stuffed

You crazy white fuck, enough

Of all your hatred stuff

You want to hate?

Love to spew about the state?

You just sit back and wait

For all the hatred to mate

To grow and get irate

To take away everything great

Please stop before it’s too late

Muslim faith doesn’t inspire dreams?

Their religion holds them back?

Who are you talking about?

Which prayers do you doubt?

They’re primitive, you shout

And what do you think they think you’re about?

Go on now

Apologize to the Democrats

And then the Republicans

For being a mean little hate whore

Then take a six shooter

And go to some brown person school

It’s not that far between here and there

Between the words you write

And the actions they incite

Well this is God’s land

But is this is God’s hand?

And Her instructions?

She told you hate is the way?

There’s another way

And another

And another

And another

 

Welcome to the fear factory

Where you churn out hate

Same place we once made cars

And things everyone wanted

So what came first?

I’m asking you true

Did the collapse bring the hatred

Or did it just bring it out?

 

This isn’t hate I have, it’s anger

I love you

Will love you

Will always love you

But what the fuck don’t you get about radicalism?

Does Jeffrey Dahmer make Americans cannibals?

Does Timothy McVeigh make you all terrorists?

They are nutjobs, and so are you

By not seeing the difference,

That’s how you became one too

I think you’re better than this

You must be

You sound literate

You sound like you pray

But when you spew hate

That all goes away

 

This isn’t Obama versus Romney

It’s us against you and your friends

The hate spewers

The black ejaculators

The shit mongers

The demons sent by the devil

Straight from hell

The difference is what?

They use Kalashnikov’s and you use American made

They use propaganda

You use the internet

You don’t mean to offend?

You do worse

You popularize hate

Normalize it

Socialize it

Publicize it

Reblog it

Until people Like it

Abide by it

Follow it

And then try it

 

So I hope the Brotherhood finds you

In the middle of your America

Sneaking down the boulevards

And across the ivory towers

So that you can all have a barbeque

And we can make a wall around you

Keep you in one place

The seed of this great evil

The hate bringers from the devil

And we’ll check in now and then

On the mold that grows behind the wall

How it bulges and oozes

Seethes and explodes

Feeds on itself

Because hatred always does

 

Well we will persevere

In our kids hands and eyes

Futures that hold kisses for the past

But not reverence for old white men

Who hide in their attic behind a computer

Safe from harm

Well take that gun sir

Blow your brain out sir

What’s left of it anyway

But please put a cover down

Something plastic and long

So it’s easy to clean the mess

And sell the house to

Mr. and Mrs. Akhbar

Who never hurt a soul

Or hate anyone at all

Why should they live

With the stain of you?

And by the way, in the spirit of 2012

They’re Christians more devout and true

Than ever I was, and same with you

 

Old man look at your life

And our lives too

Doesn’t mean that much to me

To mean nothing to you

 

Terrence Malick asked

Where’s this great evil come from?

Look in a mirror why don’t you

He also asked about love

Where does it come from?

Well not from you motherfucker

Their religion is insane you say?

Well good idea that you had

About nuking them into eternity

Who says these things and loves peace?

More anger heaped on anger more

But I know I should love you

That I have to try again and again

Because this is the war we’re fighting

And we have to win

This is the combat of spirit

The true battle for our souls

Mine and yours, old guy

Hanging in the balance

Like they were made to fall

But you’re the one who cuts the strings

The rest of us, we have love to bring

In the name of God or not

What difference does that make?

In this religion’s name or that one’s or none?

Who cares where it starts

As long as it starts

As long as I find a way to love you

Just so hard to love you

 

But fine, I’ll try again

I’ll try harder

To love you because I must

To love you because we must

Listen, if you want

I’ll be your Muslim lover

I’ll be gay with you

Share your bed

Shower with you

I’ll flat out love you

But lullabies look through our eyes

And we end in divorce

You take the kids and the cars

But I don’t hate you sugar

So why do you hate me?

 

And there you go, leave me behind

Stay the coward behind your desk

Don’t want comments on your words?

Don’t want others to be heard?

I love you, you hate me

We meet but you forsake me

Well there’s a message to be gleamed

That starts in our deepest dreams

 

These people have been killing each other

For years in the name of their religion?

Hey white guy did you hear the throaty call

You made through the seasons of history?

The brutality you have practiced too?

Maybe when you do it it’s good

Maybe when you killed it’s because you could

But I know and we do too

The radicals and the filthy haters are the slime

That turned those hatreds into crimes

Not a religion, not a people, not a country

Just the crazies, the ones like you

 

Go stand with your friends

Those brotherhoods and bombers

White or black or brown

All exactly the same

The lot of you pull it

Yank it right out of your hearts

This hate that makes us cold

This brutality that make you old

And in the name of God no less?

I hope She sees the humour

But I doubt She does or will

When She condemns you as a sinner

 

You and your brothers can rot

The rest of us, raise a fist

Take our silent majority and

Rage

We always wait until it’s too late

So find the rage soon

And always rage hard

Because this is the real war

And we can’t lose

Indians

Namibians

Iraqis

Iranians

Uzbecs

Poles

Brits

Aussies

The rest too

Come here for the party

In a field I’ve booked for six billion

But leave the radicals behind

And the old white man too

He needs time

To be alone

To think why that seed grew

Into the hatred he spews

Old guy

Looking at your life

I love you

I love you still

I love you and always will

But this isn’t Muslim versus Christian

It’s us against you and the other radicals

And we’re gonna win, old guy

Old guy, we’re gonna take this one

We’re going to be the ones that walk out

That move ahead and bring the peace about

We are going to win

We are going to win

We must

We trust

We save

We rave

We are

We are

We already are

Dream hard, rage hard.
Website http://trentlewin.wordpress.com

69 thoughts on “Burst – Old White Man Hating on Stuff”

          1. if this post wasn’t so dag gone serious…i’d come back with something pithy about fleetwood mac, but i won’t cause it is and that’s that.

            Reply
  8. Pingback: Burst – Old White Man Hating on Stuff | Clearly Confused

  9. Reading after Susan’s reblog. Yes, I’ve encountered people like this online. They frighten me with their anger – they must be so unhappy to spout such negativity and spend so much mental energy justifying it as logic.

    Reply

  13. It takes a lot of guts to publish something you’ve written which is so brutally yourself and your opinions and your feelings. Exceptional piece of writing, the content makes it even better.

    Reply

  22. You know, ?I understand your ire, but Emile Zola told Dreyfuss before his trial for treason, actually in part because he was a scapgoat and Jewish, that ‘I may not agree with what you have to say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.’I don’t like what a lot of people have to say but it’s what comes with the kind of government-in general- we have. There hasn’t a more important document on government and its responsibility to secure the rights of its people as well as non-citizens than the U.S. Constitution. There is a famous poem/quote by the name escapes me right now. It goes to the effect that , and I poorly paraphrase, When they came for the trade unionists, I didn’t help…When they came for the Jews, I didn’t help…When they came for me, there was no one left to help me. You’re smart enough to get the idea. I was actually surprised by the direction your ire took, poetry ids not a good forum for p[olitics. It’s hard to make it work. Write something prosaic. Turn it into a story thast makes a difference. Build, don’t tear down-that’s your obligation as an artist. Best KB

    Reply

    1. Yes, I’m with you there. Let people speak. Let others respond. Let’s hear what they have to say. Let’s have our say too. I think the writing I love the most when I’m doing it is that which comes in and from the moment. The stuff I hate rereading the most comes from the same place. In terms of style, I am an awful fledgling scapegoat poet and will burn in flames for my atrocities, I am sure of it. But I guess the words come in the form that they dictate, especially when they are not an attempt to document anything or to create anything lasting. They just are, and then they are born, and then we talk. I don’t see the story in this useless collection of rhyming junk. Just anger, and sometimes that’s enough, to get it out, to remember the better things, the cleaner steps we may take and where they may take us.

      Reply

    1. Well I really appreciate that. I wrote in fit of pique. I don’t know if “pique” is really a real word but seemed appropriate in the context.

      Reply

  26. That was incredible. I wish more people could see life that way. No more Bostons, no more Newtowns, no more Columbines, no more OK Cities, no more 9/11, no more random shootings day and bombings day after day after day so that I can no longer read the news.

    Reply

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