November 14, 2012

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 ©

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