poem 420 of a poem a day for 2012

the 5 speeds of my broken standards and deviations

soliciting sex

for seeds of change

I roll down insanity

and welcome in, America

where politics of conservation

tell me to consume my right

to be a plebe for an empire

that only wants me to liberate

my loins from my mind and soul

I enter into the simplicity of blood flow

and tacitly open the gates

to the master's kingdoms

all the hopeful wretched and

poor parts of my humanity

reach far across the globe

from lands that can still be painted

with words into two dimensions

I give rise to populism unchecked

I tell myself every generation is blind

and is no longer indigenous

that less is more for them

I make them fight each other

and the new arrivals

in the poems

sell them on hoarding gold

sell them more slurpees for a dollar

sugar coat everything

drill for more lubrication

blitz the holidays

as a necessity

acquire temporary pleasures

keep a line outside

the dog and pony show

I barker this, as essential need

I create diversions

sinful tines that separate

my heart from mind

I pay per view everything

my slagged humanity

my programmable executions

every behavior I emulate

I dilate television remote control methods

I make listeners feel stupid watching me

I make watchers listen for ways to steal from me

I make scarlet letters for everyone else

who might not want

to go along with murder,

subjugation and exploitation

I pull the plug periodically

wire sporadic electrical stimulation

I hold the switches

reveal every corrosion of my bones

I wait for flesh to come to market again

around another corner

I slow down and begin more tales

of mirrors, smoke, tinted windows

and curtains, I am certain

these steps take the edge off 

with a few hard pulls

of an ideology

so I ease into neutral

outside the streetlights

outside the greed

disguised as nostalgia

on the radio

a wet wipe and tissue paper

beside me, as I look

for something in common

with any of the faces

in the crowd of onlookers

that have gathered

in my thoughts

I begin to sing

that only here

can I hide

in plain sight

by giving up

the hard parts

of the fight

for my identity

here, where I don't have to

bend circus wheat and windmills

baking a dark bread

to learn how

to exhale every breath

without wanting or

needing to know

what it means

to have family,

friends and lovers

outside the glass

where all my emotions

have become an art

just past graffiti

EJR ©