Magic in plastic
we toss and we spoof like it
won’t come around in groundwaters,
pots and crops,
sons and our daughters’ stools,
spools of thread
connect specimens like we dread
complex web
interconnected but it has been said
we’re too much in our heads.
Bless us confess us our undoings
cruelly dispassionate conduct
we caught up in punishment,
sin with eventual grins at our
whims to censor hymns of the
republic which stands for
Righteous Extremists Pushing
Ugly Blights Like it’s Cool
for us to swim in our urine
you’re in with the have-mores
if you collect coins in a tin cup
like they could whip up
a living wage,
stead of send us to early graves.
It’s all the rage to rob cradles
to save rich man’s gloves
from spoiling like
oil soaked doves.
They pry and they grub for belly rubs and steaming tubs
chocolate cigars and nuclear wars
like it’s all in a night’s work.
Taken and torn, forlorn children
wake up to find daddy’s house stormed.
Raked with violence
the silence mounts.
If you don’t talk,
there’s swiss bank accounts
to reward all the counts
and the draculas’ brides with new swanky rides.
Cutlass sierra tied to the motorhome.
Don’t think it’s just a poem.
Life is at stake and the quality’s hellacious
diva dolls for our daughters
lost sons in stations
where Arafat once ruled and sought peace for nations.
It’s stacked
and the powers that flee from response-
ability
don’t look out for
common brahmins ascending
when life is impending struggle.
The trouble is not the underdogs’ elusive
trail toward wealth but the
elusive snails themselves
that smear tracks of
the stealthy imposters who floss and boss us
that would lead us toward colossus in the third degree
symphony of horns typa process
that stops us in our tracks
until we finally relax
cuz they in wax
and we be
free.