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When my ice cream falls off my cone
And it hits the ground
Is it Paradise Lost?
Or Paradise Frost?
Maybe for the concrete
But not for me
Death in winter
is the warmest slumber.
If the truth were shallow
we would all be swimming in it.
Time is merely a souvenir
of closed caskets and love stories.
Ebola is real. Ebola is real.
Smack the world as you would slam an oyster.
Find the prize—your ontological argument
Gas prices are down.
          Gas prices are down.
Wash the pearl as you would wipe a newborn.
Marvel at life—and its derivative meaning
Ebola is real.
Gas prices are down.
People are dying and we are smiling.
Today I realized the world has gone mad,
Still lending bills to penniless debtors,
But now sending in knights with armor clad
So no one messes with debt collectors.
This is it—my Sunday epiphany,
That somehow could rattle my state of mind.
Yet looking back, it’s not very holy.
I’m starting my day, and no longer blind.
Even their stuff sneaks over the border.
Look, toothpaste! Made down south in Mexico!
They laugh at the sign “Welcome to Mordor,”
And they **** the man asking “Friend or foe?”
  Dear Congressman, answer me this, big guy.
  I’m confused – where does our allegiance lie?

  Is our friendship with China just a fling?
  I thought we trusted them with everything!

  “You can make our computers, shirts, and toys.
  Oh, our toothpaste? We hired that country’s boys.”
Now there’s a just reason to start a war.
Some racist fear of lead-infested paste,
No care for the kids sweating on the floor,
More worried that our nation’d come to waste.
Ignorance is bliss; knowledge is power.  
A slavery that no one speaks about
Will never reach its final hour
unless I stand on a street corner, shout,
and wave around my poorly crafted sign.
Commercials are about money, and lots of it,
Not kids working in a factory line.
A modest proposal: destroy all profit!
  We should either be poor or go down fighting,
  At least we’ll have honor while we’re dying.
edited 2/15/14
 Jan 2013 Faeri Shankar
I want to disappear
       into a poem and compose a
   phrase for you to follow
 Jan 2013 Faeri Shankar
every candle that flares up like a
    match struck between timelines reminds me
            that this world, this beautiful
       misshapen globe we call home has

                   room for me,       for you,
                               and most importantly
                                         for us.
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