Escalating conning of our Ship of State by the S.S. Tea Party tug into
Plymouth' Rocks is projected to be invisible, non-existent and normal, but
Gandhi taught "the root of all oppression lies in (supposed) science", also,
normalcy, I never suffered or suffered from northern malaise, euro-centrism,
nor academia, a blood disease.  The direct linx between the purposeful non-
prevention and denial of smoking cigarettes distributing cancer, mass-death,
economic destruction (dictating subjugation to and replication of the medical
industrial complex, the con), climate crisis denial and Covid-19 pandemic
denial doing the same, can't be over emphasized.  The supposed sciences'
non-renewable fuel nexus', self-possessed/avarice pyramid scam, of imperial,
patriarchal, colonial, global oligarchic supposed power, run and ruled by
the bi-polar axi of global supposed power, cold war called West vs. East,
**** of Utin's headed, republican, capitalist not-see one (who are also
totalitarian, materialists) and Utin of ****'s ... headed, communist,
socialist totalitarian two (who are also not-see, materialists), a false
duality/dichotomy (there's also no 'sides', a delusional construct) ...

Extermination of non-republicans by

Serial mass-murderers masquerading as pigs.

Defeat criminal insanity and their swine's flu,

Mass-street-court, people deciding their fate,

Not the injustice system, nor their hate.

If you're not taking bullets you're making them.

<|>

for some time,
in these troubled moments,
midst the uprooted formless firmament
where rawest poems come from,
and the saddest gentled, go to die,
colloquially a place, a space,
we call,
time

in these, them days of lockdown quarantine,
time has lost its preeminence,
the swagger of precision-swiss-definition
of the imposing measuring stick of
routine
is lost to that very
formless firmament

we look at each aghast,
with wild puzzlement faces,
inquiring of each other,

“what day of the week is it?”

the eavesdropping, spying voice of this device
answers,
“see the upper left corner”

which is kind of a miracle
but not nearly as amazing that

a few hours later,
or some time span of an approximate relevancy,
(we assume,)
we ask each other, once more,
in a reverie of hopelessness,
with total no-pretense of the
when,
no, worse,
the frightening pointy needlessness of
why
it matters

“dearest darling,
pray, pray,
what day of the week is it?”