image found on internet photographer unattributed |
GOP = Greed Over People
Democrats = Do everything misguided or cry republicans are totally sinister
Independents = what the fuck are they anymore,
though this poem recognizes the grandfather from Vermont as a possible exception
but illusory means of proclamation have been known to fill my fridge before
stoner food man, watching sparkly things go round and round in the microwave man
man why didn't you fight more about California ...
Fringe parties = been sown as bad seeds so long most are conditioned at automation
to write them off as ludicrous or dangerous and a folly to follow ...
labor feeds fixes and bloodens the gears
poor bones have always died quickly
and with necessity
at the beck and call
of towers tall
so those wanting to know
at this point
in the poem,
please defer research
to the time skipping
ability of a nautilus shell
of a woodland snail for instance
I mean, if you are
really that impatient
go to last stanza now ...
affordable care
we act as if we care
America, as an institution DOES NOT CARE about YOU, period.
people are manipulated and easily so, me too
I watched Baywatch on TV and might the movie too
a mad dash to get the cash and coconut
the trading post is close and
what BB laden hoses supposes
like socks filled with soap
to clean memory
from Life and Love
as embodiment(s)
of ideas
to murder
we are usually lacing fear with implied threat here
we have labeled this terror, a tactic
what politics and religion
has given us ...
thus we bare ourselves
when alone to ask if
we can care to afford me
acting like you care accordingly
we have reached that critical mass
of wholly I don't give a fuck
when the Earth as a commodity
won't last another few decades before
damaging changes have taken hold
community after community
will be sold chattel and spectacle styled
to know security
will be to know the cage
outside there is palpable
desolation, rows after rows
of what we sow and had sown
slow siphon-ing what colored our world
this future variant
is never letting go
of our forgetting
of the when(s)
we recorded everything
had library upon library to prove
what a big bunch of dumb asses we are and were
chances are and beyond the sea playing on heavy rotation
on the automated radio shows still ghost going
transmitters powered by solar panels
the future seems more greasy than dusty
but I could just be looking at the interrupted streams of rain
the eons take going calendar and bones
every time a soul cries for articulation
the churches, temples, mosques
and other sacred gathering pools
of ka and ba, list the entry ways
to the beyonds, heaven
for a layman or poor reader
people in line remark
that this looks like post 9-11 'merica
only the floor is more slippery
and the tones more seeping
there isn't music playing
but the sounds seem to say
to each of us what we want
and need to hear ourselves with
better than beats, best headphones ever
I said to myself now or never
get with the rhythm levers
and let knowing thyself how
be part of a poem, part of a people
this could be my prayer to tell
my whirling dance to spell
I am, is and came to be
without rotunda, or steeple
and grand voiced wisdom
we don't smell to see
what is weather belled
we all just want to hear
that tone
that rides off
into the sunset
blissful in decay
each day, a future
we dared remember
to color further in sorrow
for what once was ...
we once believed
we were created
not realizing creative
was the game
to be, we
the same gods
the same manufacturers
the same cities,
sawmills
and quarries
we are alien hybrids damn it
now get over it
and get on with
more and more Loving
and being aware of it
every moment you can
peace out
poems shout
too and can
if you write
and speak
those words
of yours ...
EJR ©
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