We are all but

hanging
from
a
thread

as our lips seal
behind thick black string

flesh made raw by shards
of heavy rope

ensnared by echoes of all
opposing voices
seem to come from
all sides-
but are, rather,
those of the
loudest protesters

out of sheer frustration
that we still find
ways to shine

in our music-
angry, spoken word,
**** RIOT
rant filled

in our art-
graffiti on your capital
desecrating your
male saints

streamed through your
safe airwaves
******* up your
perfect hegemony

livening your
boring missionary
bedrooms

bleeding in your
just-washed white
sheets with my girl
friend and her boyfriend

In our poetry-
CAPITALIZED, misspelled,
profane-****-out of syn
tax
without filter
in red paint
on sidewalks
in newspapers
on bookshelves
in magazines
on flyers on
our lips in our
hearts

screaming
crying
laughing
soaring souring
soar-
ing