When dying won't save a life,
or change your mind
and direct it
towards what you expected
would be right.

When marching and protesting
doesn't turn night to day,
make wrongs less black and gray
as all those shades
fade to red blades
that hew through
innocent hearts seeking the truth.

There is no change,
cuz the powerful
want to keep playing
the same game.

How many times
can we all explain
until in pain
our shoulders slump
from the strain of the gravity
of everything we've been trying
to hold up and make better,
and we collapse into black holes,
falling just in time to float away like ashes
flying from a holocaust furnace,
as remnants of the worst tragedies
that we never learned from?

If you want to get your soul
stole by some swolle bro
then I know a place where you can go,  
but if you're looking for something
more like a lover who wants to
explore new venues with you,
to dance on distant shores,
those soft sandy beaches,
see swirling sea storms
and similarly moving whirlpools,
volcanic expulsions of passion’s ecstasy,
or the insatiability
of the cosmic spectrums and eternity
mingling with infinity,
if you want poetry to try to see
everything that is beyond belief,

then I highly recommend me.

All my thoughts are rhetorical,
as I have become Socrates’ Oracle
foretelling the swelling
of sad and sweet uncertainties
that will certainly
come to haunt me.

In my desire to understand,
I have questioned everything
out of existence.
The very essence
of my being
has become a flickering thing
struggling to remain present.

All passions, pains, and pleasant
memories
are just flutterings
from a dying butterfly’s wings,
fading faster than I can react.

We could be just a dream,
or a simulation within
another very well written
simulation, ad infinitum.

I think therefore I am,
and I am certain that I can,
at least I think I think
or are all thoughts merely
unrestrained subconscious
reactions that become conscious.

So, what more can I expect of you
because in my pursuit
of knowledge
I cannot say for certain if I exist
and in that strange context
I have questioned you
right out of existence
as well.

I want justice,
trying to fight against
the violence
of greedy politicians,
but instead of righteous
they give us the virus
of injustice,
promote the imbalance
of crime versus punishment.
Oppression is persistent
despite the insistent activists
who are resisting the ignorance
the rich keeps creating.

I want goodness
not in the abstract,
future, or way back past,
but right now
because there is
no reason for waiting.
The time for debating
has long since passed
and if you have to ask
don't bother just act.

Empathy equals truth and compassion
multiplied by action
and brings a better world.

I want justice but not the kind
lazy men claim to serve,
then swerve
to spin a fiction that prevents it.

I am the awkward
steward of my own stupid being,
pushing forwards
towards the shore,
not asking for
much more or
looking for
a reward,
just searching for
something to explore;

With A jealousy enveloping me
because I believe
so many things can be better,
yet the fog of complacency
hinders our society
as humanity drunkenly stumbles
towards chaos and a self-inflicted extinction
as we are all soon to be
evicted from our planet side life.

I am fury and glass
shattered so fast
that shards slash
and bleed me
before I can see freely,
thin lines of red streaking
and seeking something
underneath the skin.

As I walk through the wearisome
world that I live in,
with abusive people
and all that I give them,
that unspoken permission
to continue hurting
that heart that keeps turning
in self-recrimination,
ready for self-immolating,
exploding and incinerating,
cause I am tired of debating,
or outright stating
that I deserve better
than this ever-inflating bitterness;

When I cannot even
speak into existence
a pittance of the vengeance
that you deserve,
that well-earned remittance,
because my level of empathy
extends to those who hurt me,
while constantly denying
mercy for myself.

I am fatigued and ready to
fall to a slumber were
everyone I ever knew
can no longer reach
out and intrude
with their crude rude
self-important attitude.
Till, I am finally impervious
to all of this madness.