No grander
fool who
meanders
makes demands here.

Restless,
head to chest
to catch his breath
else meet his death,

the poet seeks
dreams to speak,
closes his eyes
and lets his mind
rise.

Until his art
is fully realized,
and the hunger
to create
is satisfied.

The muse
lays down
and falls asleep.
He puts down
his pen,
and lets her rest
without a peep.

Until, he needs
her life’s blood again.
She will awaken
but need sustenance,
and he will feed
everything
heard and seen
to his artist queen.

The phoenix
will rise to shatter
all the thoughts
and words that mattercont.
to create wonders once more.

America has been feasting
on that Billie Holiday strange fruit
for so long,
drinking that thick red wine
straight off the long thin vine
of mankind’s suffering,
profiting from people losing their sanity,
gaining from the loss of our humanity.

Black as that sweet star sparkling night,
mothers, and fathers denied the right
to stand up and fight,

bullets to the back
as they try to enter their own houses,

bullets to the side
right in front of their children and spouses,

bullets through the heart of a child
in the middle of his imagination,

bullets through her bedroom,
no space to escape
not even some safe head room:

All that agony and desolation
to be constantly facing
violence and degradation
from the so-called authority figures
who only see another dead ******.

Blue lives, white supremacist guys,
proud boys and Neo Nazis
have grown obese.
These foul ******* beasts
have eaten the heart and soul of us
right off our bones and thrown
the rest to the scavengers back home.

I would like to believe
that every moment
that comes after
is an elevation.

That progress is not an ark
but a constant procession
to summits we never knew
existed,
pinnacles that allow us to view
all of reality anew,
to work out the science and review,
then renew
our dedication to
new discoveries
as we climb even higher,
than previous peaks.

That we constantly aspire
to fly and inspire
each incoming
generation to seek
a better understanding
of everything.

There’s a little bit of wiggle room,
there to let me wriggle through
tight corners and passageways
that lead out to brighter days
of childhood imagination at play.

Lava like floor to explore
as I jump from one piece of
furniture to the next,
barely escaping that terrible fate
as I try to catch my rapid breaths.

The swing under my stomach
that lets me fly up swiftly
until my arch enemy,
gravity
grabs me
and pulls me back down
to the hard-hitting ground.

He-man and Thundercat sword fights that
are as epic as a I can imagine,
till I step up to ride on my furry white dragon.

Me, GIJoe, and the Autobots  
fight off Cobra and Decepticons
until it’s time for me to move on
to Star Trek and X-men adventures.

There is just a little more time to
live in the past dreams of play
and remind myself
that I don’t have to be an adult
every minute, of every day.

So, are you okay
with the way
he spreads hate
across these
United states?

Do you mind
how he divides,
claims Nazis
and pedophiles
are good people,
hires employees
cause they are
the best by far,
but when they
try to say
anything against
your president
he completely
disavows
and demeans them?

Aren’t you bothered
by the man who fathered
corrupt clone sons
and daughters who
spew his stupid to
while pocketing
donations from
charities?

Corruption,
exploitation
of the president’s office
to make money
at his golf course
and hotels,
scandal, after scandal,
sexism, the paying off
of a **** star
but that is your right wing
man of god,
racism against immigrantscont.
especially Mexican children
when he puts them
in places worse than
our federal prisons,
none of these actions
ever touches him
in your eyes?

It took me
a long time realize
that I can’t break through
all the lies
you want so badly to
hold on to.

So, like your brain
I’m gone to,
done indulging an idiot,
and it will take a lot
for you to ever prove
there is any good left
in you.

I am fractured,
a flower floating in
times that never end.

Orange clouds afire,
lit by disasters,
I am that burning
bratty *******.

Foaming wave,
fierce tidal force
forced to go with
the terrible flow
that beats the shore.

I am the shattered glass
lightbulb burnt out.
Thin shards flying away
from the electrical light
that I made.

I am the leaning lighthouse,
beacon in the storm,
the key to my own
clockwork brain,
just tic tocking away,
wasting time
every single day.

I am all the strange
mixed up metaphors,
as mad as a hatter
cause I make little sense,

and someday I will be
sadly,
past tense.

Do not ask me to write a better future.
I cannot see a light through
the dark tunnels we are
traveling in our fast flesh cars.

I am not depressed as many are,
because I have seen what horrors
have moved us forward thus far.

My nightmares pale in comparison,
to the carnage other people have been
moving, drowning, and living in.

Poverty and hunger, war and terror,
chaos and destruction, over there
where I don’t have to see,
but I watch and read
enough to know it’s real.

I am coasting while others are roasting,
burning in their own personal hells,
convicted and sentenced to a chemical jail,
that they cannot escape because their cell
is the body that they make.

Rage and anxiety pushing our society
to uncertain extremes,
dividing us into the too many teams;

When we would be better served
by acting like Earth’s steward
and learning to listen to
those who have not been heard,
by making kindness the new holiness,
and finding out why they know this
isn’t how it has to be.

Inclusivity doesn’t cost much,
and we gain the universe
by being able to accept and embrace
change.

But my people like to tear down the strange,
prefer the cold dark caves
from which we sprang,
whilst burning and burying
most outliers.

I live in a world of science deniers,
that don’t give a crap about forest fires,
cause our climate has become
numb and dumb to the truth.

So, though, I may smile
while I am talking to you,
I still believe we are totally *******.