This poison pill
is not the hill
I wish to
plant my
flag upon.

This dull blade
that bade me bath
in the bloodbath
that warlords make
for the sake
of profits
is not the tool
I would like
to use to fuel
my creative life.

This crushing
weight
of unwieldy hate
is not the force
I would choose,
and yet
unfettered fools
debase and abuse
themselves
and all of us
for their wealth.

They seek to conquer
with sick implements
of destruction,
such impediments
to the betterment
of our human
condition.

Art’s armament
is not adequate
to defeat them,
and I do not know
if I alone
or all of us
can beat them,

but I will not
concede to their greed
and be what they need
to feed their profit machine.