I want chalance,
**** it!
Give me your unadulterated
caring.
I crave the taste of a well formed
opinion.

Spit bitter the dregs of conditioned aloofness, my children,
Turn from your beds that long dawning yawn of complacency,
The sickly lacksadaze of comfort and all those uninvited demons
posing as house-pets and affordable phone plans.  

find a flame and
fan it!
reject the televised red
herrings.
propaganda’s best honed
minion.

Careen from the brink of total self destruction, my children,
Bite deep into the fleshy face of death, its opaque nascency,
filet the present moment at your leisure, for whatever reasons,
Make your life a gun loaded with demands.