October 30, 2012

poem 410 of a poem a day for 2012

bullets and ballots

in a ballet of my finite parts
I am constantly reshuffled
in the myriad of chances
taken and refused
the wind is still howling today
in clamor bells
of dry leaves
clung to trees
not yet prey
to gravity’s call

the TV is on
the clown princes
and princesses
of politics have taken back
to smearing make-up
and demographics
with orifice worship
in the highest regard
I can’t stand it
and even when I unplug it
it has already ghost burned
itself onto the pages
of my memory turning
with questions, asking
who is at fault

one never says
what’s beneath the words, here
for we use genius to bury
the truth in America
we only buy the easy requisitions
the munitions of punitive names
to be white-washed
onto the fences
like bodies staked
outside the gates
that say beware
all ye who enter here
for the fate of your humanity
is the heart
of what we want

my soul is of no consequence
to lady liberty
for it only wants harmony
and that is something reserved
for the people
still guarding the gates
and counting things
as stacked and racked
against the beauty
of emptying ourselves
of material desires

so yes while I want
a warm bed
the comfort of a woman
and some food
and drink to share
I cannot vote
for any of this
without losing my grip
on the trigger moment
waiting for a bunch
of a little supernovas
willing to burn
down the missions
and free the heavens again as rain

when the polls near close
and I can breathe again
without wanting or wearing
the divisions of nation states
that keep me
from understanding
what I really need
it all becomes 
quite clear to me
there is a simplicity
of bleeding a hunger
for more flow
and less bandages


No comments:

Post a Comment