high
quality ink blots and messianic doom plots between the sickle and the spade
lines
form
break
down
the
lanes choked
go
stop go routines
Winter’s
early
blankets,
second skin us
makeshift
air filters
when
the smoke
gets
too thick
low
valley surrender to cancer
particulates
race with unseen intentions
mentioning
the tiny knives
tilling
the range of our emotional elasticity
sub
atomic to microscopic kingdoms
on
the way up through electron observations
on
main street and in all the places
between
gated cul-de-sacs and the alleys
preened
of anything shiny at night
scattered
electrical shortages
shape
shift the need to blame the poison
not
the intent of any bible now applied
to
the ingredients listed on the side
of
a plastic wrapped convenience food
we
eat connective pulps,
separated
fats and by-products
genetically
enhanced grain fillers
we
keep going dark
we
scream for caffeine
for
renal failure road
venal
urges surge
tide-want
more
Christmas
is coming
Americans
hate each other
want
the other side wounded
to
pay punitive damages
most
in the middle
live
with the riddle of why
we
gather close enough to fire
to
burn us beyond recognition
into
scarred scared bared sore stepping
what
used to be leapt
but
now is kept
a
windowed distance
a
romantic nostalgia
a
box top coupon fantasy
mailing
away pieces
of
your life in order
to
keep dreams away
from
being taxed
the songs we sing
are call prayers when
we
think no one
is listening
we
sing, for those who think
we
are not yet greedy enough as a nation
we
sing, for those who might not see
we
are in the midst of a class war
we
sing, for those too busy to know
we
are not ready to admit factory farms are a failure
we
sing, for those who seem never able to say
we
are wrong for denying anyone
the
right to pursue a happy life
we
sing, for those, who when alone
pray
too in song
in
languages
common
to us all
we
sing songs like this...
we are in need of a spiritual enema
we are prisoners to Judeo-Christian mindset
we are lock stock and barrel ready
to fight each other to see
who can build the fence
and bury the other half of us
beneath great trees outside security
someday when
these hymnals
are as old as
the sturdy sentinels of trees
we may
even succumb
to
a Goddess storm
that
climbs and
ghost
wind rages
along
the thirteen
colonies
that wanted
all
those different things
so
long ago
someday, every storm
might rake this land
as hard as we ever did
trying to defy speculation
and
prognostication
looking back for patterns
from when iron
was
a pounded currency
to our most
up to date brand
of
mankind
we are driven by nothing
but desire for more
so
much so
that
even deep space
can
not erase
its sirens
of
resource
discovery
its gathers
its retrieval
our protecting
of the flag-
bearing hoard
so
we sing
those
songs
that
tell of an eventually
we
will come to see
we
are all buried
to
be born again, someday
into
the hand written
beauty and calligraphy
of
rooted bones
each
of our stories
loamed with the power
of
a poem
telling
the bent bowed
listening
world
just
when we knew
this
place became split
a
fractured two
a
kind of life waiting
here
for the rain
to
turn bullets and bane
onto
the white folks
so
that they may finally
know
the words and sing
we
shall overcome too
EJR
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