Brian Dykstra Selling Out

Brian Dykstra Selling Out.

Brian’s currently up from NYC doing an amazing one-man performance/slam poetry show called “Selling Out”. At the Kitchen Theatre, Ithaca, now through December 16. See it!!

Big Slick
by Brian Dykstra
from Brian Dykstra SELLING OUT

You call me the engine of commerce
You call to me in Religious Rapture
You call out, shouting in tongues, in Reverence, in Prayer
Another Great Hosanna!
“Drill, Baby, Drill!” you pray.
Something worth listening to!
“Drill, Baby, Drill!”
You thrill to the thrills I spill while shilling
For OPEC – Oil rich, Nouveau Riche, Oil Sheiks finding petro-dollars in sand
Funding Times Square car bombers filled with gasoline, propane,
combustible oil on a bustable brain pan.
I Am
Sticky-chewy chocolate colored stick ‘em gluing an osprey’s suddenly
useless feathers
I Am Slick
Geyser-ing 5000 feet down, another half-million barrels in another Gulf –
coastal wetlands torpedoed from under another suddenly Black Sea.
Another suddenly Dead Sea.
I Am Beyond Petroleum
You can call me the engine of commerce
You can call me Big Slick.
“Drill, Baby, Drill” you pray
While I Am Free at last (Free at last) to Spill, Baby, Kill, Baby, Kill a billion
dollar fishery, thrill killing.
Bottoming out the bottom of the food chain as I walk on water, dividing
not loaves this time but droves of fishes.
Jail broke out steep tectonic plates 5000 feet deep, or fracked like black
shale, or hard sand, sand-blasted out tar sands pipelined out, or blowed out
fasta’ from under Alaska snow searched out like the Holy Grail by my
disciples failure to see beyond oily profit.
I baptize this oiled well, this foiled wilderness, this roiled Gulf, this soiled
beach with boiled Holy Water over pelican chicks, anointing their heads
with oil
My Cup Runneth Over.
Onward Crisco Soldiers marching (as to war)
I Am That I Am
The new burning bush
Burning at the top of another nighttime refinery – another Fire! Another
gothic cathedral, another beacon lending sight to acolytes spending millions
to search out my billions.
I Am the patron saint of economic growth
I Am gasoline in your well water
Another polluted aquifer
I Am seven rivers around Beijing so viscous they are Un-Filterable
I Am next years missing tarpon and mutated shellfish.
I Am Fracked Gas Fracking up this fracking shit by fracking your water table
and clearly nudging us nearer to another earthquake, a tectonic mistake, a
shake that just can’t happen here.
I Am Dead Sea Scrolls announcing Dead Sea Turtles
Taking tolls on dying dolphins, untold schools, nesting birds, oyster beds,
hatcheries, sanctuaries, and already weakened wetlands already battered by
last year’s hurricanes.
I Am ecological disaster happily traded to stave off economic disaster
And I demand you pray
“Drill, Baby, Drill!”
Lord, hear your prayer
“Drill, Baby, Drill for me.”
Open up more offshore “Drill, Baby, Drill!”
I Am greasing the engine, oiling the pistons, of a slippery global economy
I reduce friction in your stock portfolio – while together we carbonize your
atmosphere and do nothing about it but wait for science to come up with
some creative solution while together we demonize not only science, but
You call me the engine of commerce
But I am unsatisfied
“Drill, Baby, Drill” you pray
I Am the Patron Saint of Global Climate Disaster
And you will all worship me
So, “Drill, Baby, Drill.”

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