BALLAD OF THE THIN MAN

High above what was Freedom’s land

The Thin Man rules

Kill list in hand.

Info culture coalesced

In Thin Man’s fingers firmly pressed

If we let him shape our views

All he will win

We’ll surely lose

Super computers nerves of light

Probe our privacy day and night

WHILE

Ivy League pinheads think things through

And tell the Thin Man what to do.

Well paid technicians smile and say,

“We’ve built a brand new Drone today.

It stays aloft for thirty days

And deals out death in many ways,

Missiles, bombs, laser and chain gun

In service of the great THIN ONE!

Hipsters’ Heroes Hymn For Steve and Barack

(Thank you Aldous Huxley)

Holy hook up Jobs and joy

Every woman has  her boy

Every boy must know his place

And keep a smile on his face

Holy hook up Jobs and joy

Guys are girls and girls are boys

Modern is as modern does

It will never be the way it was!

Jobs we are millions make us one

Like melting memes within a twilight zone

Oh let us now together run

Swift as well made apps on your phone

Then we will feel when the great Obama comes.

We feel the fluids flex and flow until we fly

Melting in the music of the jungle drums,

We are his and will be his until we die.

Modern is as modern does

It will never be the way it was!

Rescue Teams’ Song

The plane came and filled the sky with its flame.

I knew then that I’d never,

Ever be the same.

Though the sun still shone

and the tide still turned,

The world stood still as the city burned.

When I heard the tales of the Rescue Teams,

Guilt and pain flowed like twin raging streams.

I wished there was something I could do,

To help those heroes make it through

The buildings and bodies raining down

On the sidewalks of my old hometown.

The smoke rose in a sky high cloud,

As debris fell on the fleeing crowd.

I saw the horror,

I fought my fears,

But I couldn’t stop my flooding tears.

The plane came and filled the sky with its flame.

I knew then that we’d never ever be the same.

I knew then that we’d never,

Ever be the same.

Though the sun still shone,

And the tide still turned.,

The world stood still as the city burned.

They were first responders

Doing what they must.

Now their bodies are ashes and dust.

Thanks to the lost three hundred forty three,

The first to arrive.

There are twenty five thousand who are still alive.

Thanks to what these martyrs have done,

Twenty five thousand can still walk in the sun.

Thanks to three hundred and forty three

That selflessly died,

Twenty five thousand live to help turn the tide,

Against all terror and the darkness it breeds.

We’ll be guided by the light of these glorious deeds.

The plane came and filled the sky with its flame.

I knew then that we’d never,

ever be the same.

Though the sun still shone,

and the tide still turned,

The world stood still as the city burned.

Remember the heroes,

remember their fate,

But let their love be reason celebrate.

Ted Getzel

The Novel Begins

Red quarry tiles are hard; red quarry tiles are cold, especially if you are using them as a mattress. The ceramic sucked at his body heat right through the thin piece of foam beneath Ted’s back as he lay behind the counter of the vacant restaurant that he hoped would be reborn as his dream. He used a couple of hoodies as his pillow. He pulled the old army blanket up to his chin. He was totally exhausted, so despite his crude lair he fell asleep within minutes.