Subscribe to Toylit

Sunday, January 31, 2010

A Type of Manifesto

Anti-News-Meme Munitions

By Khakjaan Wessington

While journalism's oft ephemeral
True verse remains perennial.
Our dialogue is often fixed,
With dualisms. Trite discussion's mixed

With prejudice and fearful ways of thought:
Debate, it's ruled, can trade. It's bought
For millions, yielding billions—yet
The perfumed lie depends on truth (in debt).

Attack then writers, poets--those who feel
The whims of liars, hacks; trained seals
That skew as handler deems them to--
And fight for those constituents they woo.

The narrative's munition now: just read
The facts the spies would have you cede—
Not burnt, just buried; referenced
On microfiche, truth deferenced

To assholes who distort the facts to sway
The narrative for grabs today.
It's not what's writ, but how it's done:
For verse and prose unspin the lies once spun.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.


Subscribe in a reader

Act of Government [Today's News Poem, Jan 31, 2010]

Act of Government

By Khakjaan Wessington

“In Oklahoma, Gov. Brad Henry requested a federal disaster declaration for the state, where more than 164,000 homes and businesses were without power on Friday night.
The storm has also been blamed for the death of a 70-year-old Oklahoma woman in a propane explosion.”

-New York Times, Jan 31, 2010

The artist paints the pheromone,
While science claims to lead the way.
So onward marches clans of drones,
Who pray for meaning in this fray

Of tricks—call God! You'll later blame
That guy, then call your governor.
We voted in these guys—a shame
They're clowns, but we're such slow learners.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.


Subscribe in a reader

America the Ambiguous

America the Ambiguous

By Khakjaan Wessington

Oh beautiful for gracious spies,
For amber waves of porn;
For bomb and famine tragedies
That only wake our scorn:

America! America,
What God cares just for thee?
Though good sometimes, our many crimes
Shall bring calamity.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Subscribe in a reader

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Anti-News-Meme Munitions

Toylit: anti-news-slogans, canned and ready for deployment on any blog. So long as you attribute the poem to its author (Khakjaan Wessington by default, unless the composition specifies otherwise), you may copy and paste Toylit wherever you feel it is relevant. Discourse will not improve until dissent makes itself relevant.

Serve with your favorite blog. Culture jam goes well with toast, coffee, and the morning newspaper. Fry hot links of Toylit and shit all over your favorite news organization.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Subscribe in a reader

Guilty Until Proven Guilty [Today's News Poem, Jan 30, 2010]

Guilty Until Proven Guilty

By Khakjaan Wessington

“... the Justice Department on Friday began considering sites for the trial of Khalid Shaikh Mohammed and four other top Al Qaeda operatives away from the shadow of the toppled World Trade Center.

The alternative locations include an Air National Guard base and a federal penitentiary near Manhattan, both considered safe and secure facilities.”

-LA Times


When types of values clash, the goals that vie
Against another seldom merge: to try
A man
Who seeks to die a martyr—
Beyond the rage of mobs—
When 'Justice' cannot barter
With juries lacking jobs;

To orchestrate a trial of grudges:
It looks the same as Imam-judges.
Our own
Hypocrisy: a mirror
Where enemies appear
To speak in tones much clearer
Than courtroom atmospheres.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Subscribe in a reader

Friday, January 29, 2010

Toylit Scoop! Editor Khakjaan Wessington Called Russia's Military Return in 2006

Siloviki Security Vision for Russia

This is only the beginning.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Beware of Toylit Imitators: Part 2

So I have been checking this site's ranking on Google and I encountered ANOTHER group of degenerates--this time from LA--that ripped-off Toylit in 2005. I found the creatively blighted dolts on wiki of all places. Yes, the meme was in the air, but I snatched it first and made it my own. AND the true Toylit got its street-cred via restroom distribution in SF back in 2003. Paper always trumps the internet chumps and don't you forget it.

Actually I just checked my file cabinet. Toylit started in 2002.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Subscribe in a reader

What Men Want [Today's News Poem, Jan 29, 2010]

What Men Want

By Khakjaan Wessington

"My honest belief was that if I didn't do something they would continue to die."
-Scott Roeder

http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE60S4UB20100129

The ancient women, wise with feral ways,
Passed matrilineal traditions down
From ape to human—knowing men could slay,
With lust, their daughters. Deaths wore bridal gowns

Before connubial beds became their graves
So brewing remedies these mothers saved
All humankind. Resentful, men thought slaves
Were made of them. He mastered war and raved

Against his mother—burning her to ash.
Denounced as midwife: now we call her witch.
Their wives and daughters—mothers died—the clash
Of sexes won. Thus Woman, made a 'bitch,'

To breed and grieve perhaps before the next.
The men would prise the fruit, more sons, from wombs
That rarely lasted forty years. But text
Reflected changing norms. In time, this grooms

A kinder sort of man who seeks a peer—
If only theoretically. Rights,
If slowly, catch the rhetoric—so dear
To many—bringing new and awful blights.

I think I know this killer's thoughts, this guy
Who shot that Kansas doc. He felt betrayed
By fellow man: resolved to make him die
And eased his guilt with Bible quotes. Unswayed,

The jury found enough to lock him up.
A shame, because a woman now, receives
In joy or rage a life from carnal tup
That soon awaits abortionist's coarse sieves;

Because she knows she really wants what men
Desire. To lust and grow and kill and feel—
Not nothing—just flushing. She wants what men
Desire: to fuck and kill and never heal;

To harvest death for medicines and soups
Or trashed in plastic bags in cans on stoops.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Subscribe in a reader

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Rates for the Union [Today's News Poem]

Rates for the Union

By Khakjaan Wessington

“We will have all of our combat troops out of Iraq by the end of this August ”

-President Obama, State of the Union Speech, Jan 27, 2010

“The principal foundations that all states have, new ones as well as old or mixed, are good laws and good arms. And because there cannot be good laws where there are not good arms, and where there are good arms there must be good laws... Mercenary and auxilary arms are useless and dangerous; and if one keeps his state founded on mercenary arms, one will never be firm or secure; for they are disunited, ambitious, without discipline, unfaithful; bold among friends, among enemies cowardly; no fear of God, no faith with men; ruin is postponed only as long as attack is postponed; and in peace you are despoiled by them, in war by the enemy.”

-Machiavelli, Chapter XII, The Prince


A poet knows another one,
Despite attempts to hide the creed.
This State of Union speech was spun,
To duck again the cost of greed.

Obama said the combat troops.
The mercenaries? Nothing said.
Omitting truth: the easy dupe.
With 'victory,' an army fled

Before, look up every major war.
The Prince's time was just the same.
The wealthy mercenaries maim
Their host: buying access, rotting core

And faithful laws within the state.
The CIA depends on mercs
To redefine, prevaricate,
Subvert the law. That clan: berserk

With the expedience of bribes.
And power dizzy in their heights,
They hide their trail—their worst of gibes—
And do it too with rifle sights.

A hidden war away from news,
The 'troop withdraw' a cunning ruse.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Subscribe in a reader

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Dearest Readers

If you approve of Toylit's mission, please go to propeller.com , digg , reddit , and delicious to promote us. Culture jamming is a team effort. Yes, they demand accounts. We must all make sacrifices comrade. If you cannot make such a commitment, but wish to prove you're no kulak, then subscribe to toylit's rss feed.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.


Subscribe in a reader

Work Will Set You Free [Today's News Poem]

Work Will Set You Free

By Khakjaan Wessington

“Unemployment reached highest level on record in 2009...”
-The International Labor Organization, Jan 27, 2010

“...You've never
done something so simple, so obvious,
not because you're too young or too dumb,
not because you're jealous or even mean
or incapable of crying in
the presence of another man, no,
just because you don't know what work is.”

-What Work Is, Philip Levine

“I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. My sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history, naval architecture, navigation, commerce, and agriculture, in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry, and porcelain. “
-John Adams


The world is full of people born of guilt.
Disposable or dark or both—they're made
To serve their patrons. Yearning freedom kills
The urge to die. The surest way to thwart:
Implant the hope that slavery's a lie,
That clay can change to flesh. To work in hope
That those we spawn might live as we desire.

They stole the sign at Auschwitz. Lies expire,
Becoming truth with age—and then just lost.
The maxims--never uttered sincerely--
We know that work will never set us free.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.


Subscribe in a reader

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Sunday Evening [Today's News Poem]

Sunday Evening
Re: Andrew Revkin's Jan 26, 2010 New York Times Dot Earth Article

By Khakjaan Wessington

Though supple, turbulent—and though they chant
Of solar paradise—they unify
The men who perish, with the summer morn,
By will of holy medicinal rant.
At first with bone and spear (they fear to die),
To better fertilize the harvest corn

They yawp beneath the moon and dance through time—
Their feet crush dates to brew their madness-wine.
Parading swords and spleens aloft, they laugh;
Distilling blood-filled cauldrons—doubting crime
Exists, when God is bliss beneath the pines:
And every day their numbers grow by half.

I saw this mob of dervish bacchanals—
Through books and portraits—robbing banks and kings.
A countess beckons me with legs aloft
To join her bloody tub: me, dick, and balls--
To learn that God loves pain: that pleasure's wings
Will fly the sadist heavenward, to soft,

Unlikely Eden. Rurik the Viking
Has brothers who forgave the fraticide,
Andreas Baader urges me to bomb
For nothing's sake—or simply gadfly's sting,
I can't, or won't. I write—I don't decide—
Too late, they pass and leave me here with psalm.

I should have bombed the labs—for sake of sea,
For Pan, and not for idiots—for me!

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Subscribe in a reader

Monday, January 25, 2010

Beware of Imitators

Once upon a time (2003), Toylit was distributed through the restrooms of San Francisco. Apparently it was inspirational, because some twatty degenerate who lived in the lower Haight around the time Toylit was distributed, decided to name his league of bitch-scribbles 'Toylit.' So in case you're an old-time reader, surprised at the presence of low-quality purveyors of toylitries on the web, rest assured that the trisomy 21 addled freak has nothing to do with fine literature for the (m)asses.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Subscribe in a reader

Ernst and Röhm [Today's News Poem]

Ernst and Röhm

By Khakjaan Wessington

“...reverse the overall erosion in middle class security...”
-President Obama, The New York Times, Jan 25, 2010,
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/26/us/politics/26obama.html

A specter haunting President Obama haunts
The textbooks, episodes of History Channel.
In film the Fuhrer dies by it—it saved a gaunt
And saintly Private Ryan. Secretly, panels
Of Koch executives gloat as Teabag pawns fight
For vassalage. 'Aren't Ernst and Röhm the tax people,'
I've heard them ask. Security from thought—to spite
Their loneliness, they seek control of courts, steeples.
Oh Hannah Arendt dance with me, don't dance too deep—
A squad of goons are coming into town: beep beep!

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.


Subscribe in a reader

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Global Village [Today's News Poem]

Global Village

By Khakjaan Wessington

The television is haunted
With saints and demons.
We worship personalities
And then networks
And then simply brands.

They say television is insidious,
That it destroys minds,
Families and so forth.
What nonsense!
Who has time to drive to church anymore?
Pizza is delivered.
So is religion.

Who says television kills?
Who calls it the idiot machine?
I say it saves. Jay Leno saved
NBC millions and millions are saved
By his monologues. I don't know how
But they still tune-in.

The North Star was once a brand.
Just because sailors used it in metaphor
Doesn't mean it didn't guide a ship northward.

Conan O'Brien has all the fun I want to have,
So I don't watch his show.
Jay Leno should have fun,
But loves comedy as accountants love.
They laugh at our sins.
They are our sins.
They've made sin irrelevant.

--

The edit to this poem, in full metered verse, can only be read in the print edition, on sale here:

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.


Subscribe in a reader

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Haitian Fright Song [Today's News Poem]

Haitian Fright Song

By Khakjaan Wessington

The Haitian Fight Song
Is curious, because of whom they might fight.
The French,
The Americans,
But mostly themselves
And their denuded dirt.

They were liberated into poverty
As the White Man unburdened himself
Of the people,
While keeping the plantations
And conspiring against voodoo.

A man interviewed said that only the Haitians screamed
During the aftershocks. He said he wanted to emulate
The foreigners. It's not easy to divorce one's self from one's
Animal instincts. To be reptilian where others are mammalian.
To be pitiless in work and to pitilessly extract work.
To fight man and soil
And child and woman
And most of all to fight the self.
To be better than human
To be inhuman.
To dry the ducts of pity
So that when our turn comes
And we are smothered with rubble
And we are trapped beneath our own excrement
Nobody will save us.
Not even ourselves.
And nobody should save us.
I didn't save anyone.
They shouldn't save me.

--

The edit to this poem, in full metered verse, can only be read in the print edition, on sale here:

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.


Subscribe in a reader

Friday, January 22, 2010

The Oracles of the Supreme Court [Today's News Poem]

The Oracles of the Supreme Court

By Khakjaan Wessington

Re: Citizens United v FEC, Jan 2010

I wish to pray as wealthy people do,
In silks and gold: a prayer shawl—a suit
To consecrate and make me worthy. God
Rewards those offering the sacred graphs
Whilst burning cigarette incense. The law
Of margins—uncontested—wins again,
While under oath The Chosen testify
For Heaven's Mandate: live on tv now.

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Subscribe in a reader