The line of freedom was drawn,
fortunate passports found
amongst the rubble of Ground Zero.
The future was not a boot,
more, groping hands through
intimate pockets
and blue light that decimates
the privacy of dreams.
No concentration camps,
Bernays fuelled the fire
in a wolf's disguise
until the crowd would herd itself.
No Aryan prophecy-
hatred more efficient
when its hands are untied.
Small disparities linger
the stem of deception:
the bottom-feeders are sterilised,
benefits withdrawn, foundations exposed
as ******* palms gather the loot
they lifted through the ceiling.
Sensory comfort provides
the leisure of a clouded mind,
a blood sugar spike,
the Soma of our time.
Under halogen lights
they make love in the high-rise
then labour in sleep
for what love cannot afford.
Continents divide.
Africa: the cold shoulder.
Asia: the factory line.
Oceans swell in neoprene heat
as sling-shots are drawn
beneath a dying star.
Old skull of Palestine,
cross-hairs on the White House
and a contusion in Pakistan.
Doors of perception only open to addiction.
Separate from G-d ,
draw more blood from the ground
like a smoker in the inexhaustible
process of quitting.
A belief in infinity
that will last until the world's end.
The line of freedom was drawn.
Everyone believed that they were on the right side.
C
