Information suppression and oppression go hand in hand,
The tools of tyrants and bullies the world over.

They've no care for your triumphs, your ennui, or your rage-
Die and weep, laugh and smile, we're all the same;
just another cog in Their machine of conflict and capitalism.
-there are always more children.

A vicious cycle repeated throughout history:
"We the People!" given life anew.

The answer is obvious; the right and wrong plain:
Black Lives Matter, among other equally clear issues.
Yet, people have chosen a side bereft of love;
a misaligned mob, uninformed and angry.

It's a migraine - a growing pain and self-surgery more so, this division
where sons and daughters and those undefined rail against 'tradition'.

Mayhaps that's the due,
The price of our condition...
Or so I might have said, once upon a time.
I've since learned to live, and better learned to rhyme.

The fight is continuous, and the price always paid.
I'd rather it us, a generation razed.

Love like wine
red against your tongue
bitter/sweet, intoxicating
and
less godly than you might have hoped for.

Beyond Love, there is nothing.
So, let us look at that which lies before.

There is a skier on the Rockies.
She is fraught with fear and worry.
Her muscles are fatigued. Below her feet, the oxygen of a stranger runs low.

She is trying.

Sweltering summer heat beats down one billion souls.
Of them, in a small corner of Churu, a man of little faith sits beside a dog.
She is wild and angry. Thirst grates her tongue.

He is giving.

Chicago is alive with nightly clamour.
Friends crawl between bars, *** and slumber on their minds.
The alleyways are familiar. The screaming is not.

They are fighting.

Speak to me of hatred, and all the evils committed in the name of 'love'.
Profess to me your ignorance.
I will gift unto thee a thousand stories as above.

All of them beautiful.

For we are more than diatribe and division or tribalistic cannibalism:
we are firelight intentions, freedom's way and righteous truth:
we are as ever:

All too human.

I: your kin: the sinew sin.

My breath,
                          this spark,
your life,  
                          my flame,
ennobled strife,
                          divine ordained.