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
EJR
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