December 6, 2012

poem 444 of a poem a day for 2012

knee deep with angels, in the mirror

I assign myself
to humankind's
port-a-potty purgatory
with a miner's light
and a dictionary
I don't mind
the stink
of our demons
so much as the gilded filth
of a money market system
having finite resources
causes greed
to be globally endemic
needing a fence and
reasoning to keep others out
this is the ultimate
nerve tonic and
its only cost is
every living heart and soul
so we turn on our televisions
and we buy into segmented
holiday hatred and
we find a corner
to protect with guns and
limited fatal vision
because you see
the dark doesn't care
what your motivations are
as long as you target
someone else to blame


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