I'm a mineral who thinks it's a miner
even if I can't tell coal from gold
I offer my excavated treasures to the public
only to be told they're rocks
by obsidian hearted pebbles
so I quietly return to my quarry
and get on DraftKings Sportsbook
who pays me for saying the Nuggets will win
pulling validation from the gravelly depths
and showing promising riches to be unearthed
appealing to my **** and wallet
to subvert my brain
but I can't just switch off and call it
considering what could be attained
digging deeper and deeper down
people call down from the ground
but they never cared when I was around
and I'd rather get gems for the **** in my mind
than get **** for the gems in my mind
so I continue my decline
until rock bottom is mined.

I’m a small fish in a small pond
with a small wish before I’m all gone
for a small kiss and your big wand
to install bliss through magic so strong
it makes me feel I might actually belong.

Why say you hate politics?

Surely on some level you must agree
humanity is at its best when we're working together

the term politics gives us a shorthand
describing that interaction

perhaps what you really hate is people
and the way they interact with one another
especially when stakes are at their highest.

Maybe you hate how people treat you
maybe you hate how you treat people
both are good reasons for politics

to help us determine parameters and boundaries
but that decision making apparatus has been tainted
by a toxic mix of apathy and unnecessary hatred.

I caterwauled down the catwalk
meowing and howling
to drown out the call of the void
letting the cats now I'm a catch
to be a pet they could pet
but once I saw the miles to the aisle
I ran way down the runway
setting a manifest for the planet next
unable to be able
to sit still on the window sill
and take in what I've taken on
staring at stars or caring about cars
I pick a solitary peak to perch
and look down on more content creatures.

Fasting on the life I'm eating
my mouth and stomach start to growl
I tell myself it's all in my head
but there's nothing in my gut
a starved stomach similar to my schedule
all my body does is work
while my brain is trapped in my ulcer
eating just enough life to survive
seeing just enough light to get by
stumbling through a buffet
but I can't see the food
everything smells gourmet
but tastes like shoes
walking down the concourse of my bowels
exiting my sphincter as my intentions
so I put myself in detention for loss prevention
abandoning desires in my stomach
to be corroded by acid
that burns my heart and exits my mouth
as gurgling noises that sound like sentences
and burps of words
but my only real sentence is self imposed
because my only real words are self contained
in the constipated vise of what's inside.

It takes a strong stomach to be this weak.

It's a time to be outside
so I open the door
but can't believe my eyes
seeing an insect horde.

I should be able to enjoy the day
without perking their antennas
so I foolishly say I should stay
as the world becomes Gehenna.

The bugs tell me to keep it moving
by making me itch
they say it would behoove me
to be rich.

They crawl on the ground
and fly in the air
they make annoying sounds
and get in my hair.

So I ask the nicest of neighbors
if they have a solid solution
but the bugs got them belabored
so they only suggest pollution.

This world is too itchy
like a thick sweater
that I always keep with me
through scorching weather.

There are millions like me
who can't stand the discomfort
making it all the more frightening
when their bodies are discovered.

The gnashing proboscis
of a million mosquitoes
might eventually cost us
the skin of our heroes.

Echoes of words never said reverberate
through the desolate rotundra of my mind
encapsulating stabbing nothingness
featuring the limits of chaotic kismet
until the shade creeps into my eyes
like bubonic wraiths scouring the globe
searching for cravings, craving the search
discovering urchins and serpents alike
in the ocean that now fills my eyes
I watch a giant squid shoot ink
and articulate itself away
swimming to the bottom of my retina
where everything is flatter to withstand the pressure
bottom feeders suckle at the **** of the depths
pervading my flattened vision
swirling in a frenzy over pieces of my eyes floating downward
forming an inescapable black mass
trapping me in its rotating world
until a bioluminescent olm wanders through
trying to reach the surface
its light inspires me to follow
like I could grow to one day glow
in the sheltered cove of my eyes
the salamander rescued me to
where the shade still exists
with feeders beneath
but all those do anymore
is make my sanctuary feel like home.

I don't have any photos of when I was young
because they look like Chronos holding a gun
I just need slow-mo or time totally undone
or maybe I just need to hold onto someone
because I can't hold on to the before
after bombing all my bridges with C4
so now I walk on the sea floor
wishing I could see more

but all I see is myself as an aquatic gorilla
after spending too much time with Poseidon
precariously between Charybdis and Scylla
as pictures make me look more like Joe Biden
while I feel like I'm the one with the trident
but I'm just Janus' migrant
and that guy is a tyrant
because no matter which way he's facing
he can always find someone to replace me.

So I don't ever take pictures
because they give time a fixture
from which to taunt me like a trickster
showing me the different colors in the mixture
like a lowkey Loki
giving me the okie-dokie
luring me into moseying moping
leisurely leading to rope-a-doping
a mirror-morphed bizarro-me dope fiend
wanting to stay in a Kumbhakarna dope dream.

Time is a sausage link
clogging the gothic sink
of a drain we all would think
seems as fast as goblin's wink
so I try to focus on the myopic pink
but always end up finding reasons to drink
the ambrosia of a nova from Krakatoa
the ebbs and flows come and go with intensity
brought by the power of Jehovah
as well as two cameras with which I can see.

Prognosticating patriarchs
pundits and priests
pencil paladins
in penthouse palaces
riding what they're writing
writhing while they're rising
everyone's got a chance
chants the gaunt equalizer
its equal lie heard
plunges us into the absurd
assured of justice and fairness
we become curt and careless
saying if you work in a hairnet
or get your verve from clarinet
you deserve less than a baroness
because she has parents best
but when I ask of the parentless
those talking point to the talking points
so what's the point of talking
when talking leads to pointing
the finger in anger at strangers
who they just called equal
but that was merely a platitude
I'm starting to hate people
and their selfish myopic attitude.

I went down the rabbit hole
scrounging through darkness
squirming a maze of movements
just to reach a dead end
with only a rabbit waiting there
to inform me that I’m stuck in a hole.

Words are exchanged
words that are deranged

arrows are midrange
but words hit home
where our minds are made up
before we put on our make-up
to walk with our face up

into the public arena
pitting our words against others'
like we're not sisters and brothers
but words to discover

housing a stable of labels
protected by cultural shields
enforcing all the angles
of a rhetorical force field
we see the power words wield
and say "I go, you yield"

until we're talking to ourselves
and screaming into the void
checking into hell
where everyone is annoyed
yelling at text on computer screens

enacting prohibition
on others' volition
because we have different dreams
and other differences it seems
based on what we believe

which is expressed through words
to which we have different definitions
that at one point we learned
and now no longer want to listen.

When life started death seemed like a blip on the radar
and as death nears life seems more like a blip of time
it’s like wanting to travel but being stuck in the hangar
then going there and back in a record breaking flight.

Dear Mr. One-In-A-Billion
I'm one of the billion
trying to get some of your billions
but I'm just part of the sum of your billions.

I'm the one in your pocket
with only ones in my pocket
avoiding guns and rockets
that came from your pocket.

You keep a gun to my head
by putting guns in my head
with the guns you have led
bringing guns to a head.

I became your captive
you're a velocicaptor commercial raptor
with a manner didactic
to mandate moralistic methods of capture.

When I ask you to stop
I'm thwarted by cops
when I ask you to go
I'm thwarted by no's.

You tell us to fly when you know that we're hurt
you say it's the sky when we know that it's dirt
you give us a tie when all we have is a shirt
until the day we die and no longer have worth.

You providers provide
petite provisions
then dastardly deride
demographic divisions

parading pride
parroting patriotism
but the parrots died
during the schism.

You don't trust me because of my bank account
I don't trust you because of your body count
you don't care because your banks can't be counted
I care too much because every body counts.

Monopoly is a boar's game
the banker controls the board
the banker determines the gored
and property determines the score.

For equality we must equalize our equity
and make austerity analogous to antiquity
allowing annihilation of our antipathies
so we can delete deficit driving deficiencies.

We need charity baked into the system
so parity will be caked onto our vision
so we can stop worrying about cheddar
and give our cheese to the beggars

but you're the only baker around
with a shop full of dough
that you throw into the oven
to feed us sugarcoated lies.

Please stop feeding us tryptophan
through avenues like Instagram
or other similar brands
infecting culture with a businessman

until we're business ******
except for a select few
one of whom is you
and your billionaire brood.

I’m not stupid
I know I’m quiet

and I’m not quiet
about how I know I’m stupid.

Here comes Auntie Taunting
frivolously flaunting
her jeering jaunting
acting like Don King
saying all the wrong things
behind the protection
of my own discretion
after toxic injections
dressed up as lessons
fly in my direction
I ask her to give it a rest
to be told it's only in jest
and she's just being honest
but those jokes aren't best
once it's her being prodded
because to deride and cajole
was always her prideful goal
how to stop her I don't know
because she hides behind my kindness
and possible social consequences
all I know is I don't like this
person of obsolescence
embodying annoyance
my only answer is to practice avoidance.

Between want and need is compulsion
between you and me there was an explosion
of wanton greed and corrosion
because you wanted me to be frozen
to keep sculpting until I was broken
but once the ice cracked and opened
I was awoken
no longer a token
you wanted me but now you don't so
you take me to your dojo
to tell me it's a no-go
while I scream 'oh no'
and drink a shot of soco
to ponder what I don't know
which is whether you're a want or a need
all I know is I never wanted to bleed.

If alcohol is a crutch for one's brain
then narcotic pills are a candy cane
not if you're looking to manage pain
(although those intentions can change)
but to hop on the sugar rush train
just know once the pez dispenser is drained
you'll have to walk all the same
after the sugar train sugar crashes
and you must escape the sugar ashes
of a powder overload
that people confuse with blow because you explode
once your sweet tooth is exposed
you can barely speak because that's all that's left of your teeth
and your only way of relief
is atop a pixie stick peak
surrounded by a cocoa ocean
perpetuating turbulent motion
so you look for sugarless lifesavers
like that's asking a light favor
after you spited neighbors
over candy flavors
but now you need their help to walk
they'll think you're nothing but talk
because you thought your cane was the kind used by pimps
but take it away and watch how you limp.

Do you want to be my friend?
What do we do now?
And to what extent?
I know how weird this sounds
but I don't know what's allowed
so I make sure no one's around
before I quietly drown in a bustling town.

Should I say hi
or walk on by
stop and sigh
and wonder why
I let silence rise?

Should I stay or should I go?
I use yellow lines to see the road
I never know how to be en vogue
so I just tell myself I'm free alone
and I don't need a home.

Do these questions have answers?
Is silence a cancer
affecting my candor?

My impropriety
makes me hide inside of me
until the sun's light is bleak
so I start to seek
a friend to defeat
my silent streak
but only silence speaks.

How much should
society and the individual
change for one another
when it's our duty as individuals
to adjust to different social settings
but it's our duty as a society
to be as inclusive as possible?

People used to ignore jokes in poor taste
and accepted that pandering had its place
but since then we've had an about-face
and now look to callously race
to moral judgment instead of grace.

The right is more malicious
the left is more annoying
they all sound like *******
with the tactics they're employing
making rhetoric vicious
so discourse starts destroying
both sides' wishes
for positive change
because lobbing grenades
has made us deranged.

The right burns books like Maus
the right burned down the house
the left wants to sterilize society by judging my propriety
and taking away the ***** things that have delighted me
virtue signaling violently
both sides' bile blending
into arguments unending.

They assign an extreme value to minority status:
which is the raddest versus which is the baddest
the nature of these arguments is madness
quibbling over The Little Mermaid's blackness
we need to relax this
nationalistic mindset
not get behind it
while the country is divided.

Now the only reason to cross the aisle
is to call the opponent a *******
so it's been a while since that word has had meaning
other than Facebook feeding nightmare needing
fever dreaming conspiracy reading
fools following the lecherous leading
us into becoming stuck with nothing to discuss
other than manufactured disgust
man have I had enough
of incendiary bluffs amounting to dust
encouraging purchased pistols to bust
for paper saying 'In God We Trust'
while believing political lies
like the accusations that fly
from the internet hive.

The country is Turning Red
because the green m&m
is now sexually dead
and Taylor Swift said
that she felt fat
so we attack
going off track
like when we crucified Cuties
it's an excuse to forsake our duties
anything with ****** and *******
gives us the fire to act rudely.

This is my fear:
******* about Lightyear
will bring years of night here
when the sun never shines on the cause
because people can't ignore or press pause
more important issues can get lost
and we won't count the cost
through frivolous frost.

So what if a movie studio makes a character black?
So what if the NFL's rules are a bit lax?
They're more worried about the estate tax
and we can all agree they ain't that
thing to end the schism
yet we cajole with derision
with puppet strings just out of vision
moving to industry's rhythm
away from personal wisdom
into the day-to-day we stay
concentrating on collisions.

Stressed   depressed   or not impressed
the fridge light turns on
eat until there’s nothing left
free will gone   evil song
there’s too much to digest
smacking lips packing hips
chewing on something wrong.

Love blooms from fertile fields like springtime sprawlers
but the regimental maintenance of one’s lawn
halts the grass at a certain height

lessening mushrooms and mosquitoes
lessening honeysuckle and dandelions

the aroma of lavender and roses
faintly cries from beneath grass clippings.

Riots are natural disasters
occurring due to toxicity in the political climate
and we’re experiencing global warming.

People look for a leader
to restore the atmosphere
but find politics instead.

Tides are shifting
as cities crumble
the earth quakes for oil.

Fires emerge
as buildings crumble
and consequences are met.

Scientists agree on the problems
but not the solutions
although a good start to solve them
is to stop the pollution.

It’s clear to see the disarray
like a raccoon wandering during the day
in the wandering fray
its wandering may
lead it astray
that’s the way
wandering days
sunder our stay
every second a blade
cutting into our DNA
we speak to say
words before our grave
that fall on deaf ears
until we only see death here
and look for someone to rest near
after we’ve extinguished our best years
for a disarray distraction
and repeat this action
in coupled factions
to face the disarray
together more brave
drawn by attraction
we call the spayed a *****
no more attention paid
underneath the waves
we need others to wade
so some of us are just here
wandering the disarray sphere
not playing with peers
facing fears
alone
go home
nobody is there
life isn’t fair
and some must resort to stares.

You’re gone and not here
by God that was my worst fear
as I sob my heart hurts the worst here
worse than anything since my birth year.

They say you had a good run
they say you had good fun
I want to buy a good gun
to **** someone for saying something so dumb
I guess it’s better than saying so what
but this pain is driving me nuts
but it’s all I have left of a tie that was severed
all these moments I remember
are my ties to the nether
at least I was telling the truth
when I said our ties would last forever.

I don’t want you to die
I want you to live
I wish I was blind
to what this world can give
I wish that my mind
could handle it
I wished for all time
to see your candle lit
I wish death was a lie
written in Sanskrit
because I cannot buy
that God planned it
don’t tell me that I
don’t understand it
I know everything dies on this planet
my question is why
do I have to live with the damage.

They told me never to count my chickens before they hatch
but I just never count my chickens ever
because chicken salad always looks like chicken ****
when I’m obsessing over nuggets.

We were once awake
too awake
until you fell asleep
and slept for a while
then you stayed asleep
now I’m too afraid to sleep
because I don’t want to see you.

Once affirmation became deformation
aspirations turned into desperation
aspirations turned into exasperation
existence undocumented persistence expired
acumen undocumented the pittance expired
normal life forms a life
but nightmare world lights the world
dream journals adjourn dreams
through fantastic fantasies
of affirmation and affinity
or affirmation reaching infinity
so affirmation is gained at the expense of others
and affirmation is what we expect from others
but the affirmation comes at the cost of the abdication
of a firm nation inducing affirmation
selling being right
who's wrong is who's left
behind the hugfest in social unrest
the hugs infect becoming a test
to affirm what others choose
affirmation signaling their virtues
and if one doesn't affirm they'll sit and burn
which will affirm affirmation.

Please tell me I'm right.

My hairline is receding
my care line is receding
I'm a feline proceeding
up the wall to hit the ceiling
of what I've been feeling
which should have me reeling
but my blood is quickly congealing
thanks to this art I've been stealing
from the vault in my mind
that's guarded at all times
except when words on lines
crack the code's design
and redefine
what it means to be alive.

All movies are predictable
after I've seen them.

I analyze the plot
and think of all the different possible outcomes
and if those outcomes are wrong nobody cares
but if one of my thoughts were correct
then your movie is predictable
and therefore bad.

I may be missing out on key subtext
like themes or symbolism
but I can't miss a chance to virtue signal
my own intelligence
which is higher than that of the filmmaker.

Maybe I shouldn't go into a movie
with a "you better impress me" attitude
while constantly trying to predict what's next
because maybe having a negative mentality
might affect my viewing experience negatively
or maybe amusement parks are more for me
but I still want to have an opinion
even on things I don't understand or care about
so I treat art like a math test
rather than an empathy building endeavor.

Predictability is a valid criticism for a movie
but every movie that's found a large audience
has been called predictable by someone
but when I say it it's true because I'm smart
or perhaps all movies are predictable
especially after I've seen them.

I've never made a movie
but if I did
you wouldn't be able to predict
exactly how ****** it would be.

I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of
but I can't be tied to those forever
so people forgive and forget
I try to forget but still feel bad
and I know there are still sore subjects
that I should be sensitive about.

Scrolling through Reddit I see a post
of Māori students at an airport
greeting their returning teacher
with a traditional Māori war dance
which was an admittedly sweet gesture
but something didn't sit right with me.

I wondered why the students greeting their teacher
had to do so through a display of militaristic nationalism
I wondered if that was the last dance the Moriori people saw
before the Māori genocided them for their resources
I wondered if the Māori danced like that
as they *****, murdered, and cannibalized the Moriori.

Wondering all of this made me ask myself:
Why did they have to greet their teacher like that?
The students wanted to make a big gesture
which dancing is perfect for
but dancing can also be vulnerable and embarrassing
because people may mock how you express yourself

but strangers at the airport are less likely to laugh at you
if you're doing a synchronized dance with a group of people
and the dancing is recognizably tied to national identity
because then it's a culturally rich dance
you're a xenophobe for laughing at
and that's what nationalism is:
strength in numbers and a readymade identity
in lieu of an individual personality
oftentimes for the sake of pistanthrophobia.

So as I read the circlejerking comments on the post
I wondered what the difference is between
a Māori war dance and a **** salute
I guess the Māori people have experienced
more oppression than Nazis
but nationalism is nationalism
and those who have oppressed are oppressors
and many who are oppressed would gladly
be oppressors given the chance.

Nationalism isn't healthy for culture
and often isolates people from other cultures
that are all combining due to globalization
which people fight to preserve their little dances and costumes
so we can stay in eternal conflict over delusions of supremacy
when the only nationality should be a global one.

If you're so good at acting like a good person
why can't you just be a good person?

Is it because you don't feel like trying
or are you trying not to feel?

You need to get out there
so out there gets you.

Others will always have things to say
as you will have things to say of others.

I hope you prove them wrong
before you prove them right

and show them who's best
without becoming the worst.

It makes me sad how angry I am
it's so bad I'm god ******
the slaughter of God's lamb
by the knife in God's hand
hatred's supply and demand
is all I understand
when sexuality creates insanity
in this putrid life handed to me
with God not answering
my prayers for Him to take my eyes
instead He just took my hands
so now I can't stop staring at guys
who don't think I'm a man
and I can't fight back with no arms
so I must stand there and take harm
from people in God's garb
and wire that is barbed.

If being without love makes one numb
how come I feel every time I'm stung?
Especially now that swords are guns
and this life's rewards are none
just a scoreless run
to a finish line before a cliff
I pray there is something to lift
me away from my earthen crypt
but I've found only rage
and in that my sorrow
banging in my cage
but wanting to see tomorrow
looking for anything to follow
I can't take pills hard to swallow
so I float like the thirteenth Apollo.

Wallowing in an empty room
pouring alcohol in the wound
feeling doomed like I'll die soon
in my lonely loft
developing a covid cough
from those who scorn and scoff
and won't *******
telling me to look to God
when that's how my arms were sawed
into illegal shotguns
living this life is not fun
so everyone around me got shot some
which is just part of God's **** poor potluck
my hands must be in there somewhere
so I just keep crawling upstairs
even though it's unfair
my hands must be stolen back
from a god dressed in black
who took my palms but let me see
without knowing how to be
I just bite the hands that bleed
until I'm too full to breathe
and watch God laughing casually.

This week I want to be a rapper
so enjoy me repeating what everyone else says
as I resume my desperate journey for clout:
I come from the place I was born in
it made me tougher due to being a violent environment
stemming from socioeconomic conditions that continue to be neglected
but even though people born in these conditions usually end up poor
I did not because I'm a special individual
who admittedly sold drugs in the past
but now I have legitimate revenue streams
and thus no longer have to sell drugs
and can still buy plenty of expensive commodities
like cars and shoes and jewelry
so of course the combination
of my new worth and the public's awareness of me
leads to a plethora of opportunities for ****** *******
which is a lot of fun
like the drugs I do if I so choose
because my insulated social circle
condones and supports such activities
but there are people who don't appreciate my modality
you may or may not be one of them
but I don't care what you think (as long as you're listening)
because I believe your opinion is affected
by your jealousy of my material possessions and lifestyle
which I don't think is fair because you aren't aware
of the totality of my experience
or how my financial success is equivalent
to the amount of labor I produced
therefore I choose to disregard your negative opinion henceforward
because I'm compelled to follow my own determination
for what's suitable for me
which is rapping about hopping out the 'rari
and how you can't play me like Atari
over trap drums and magnums
you can't hear me say I'm sorry.

I am charcoal cooking out for the summer
loading boxes into a freight truck
like coals into the furnace
powering America's materialist engine
the boxes rising like greed
until I've filled that truck's needs
exiting the trailer smoldering
like a coal in the furnace
powering corporate production
steam is all that rises as I melt into the ground
trucks leave like emissions into the air
obstructing my vision as I gaze down the street
through the haze of summer streaks
another truck approaches for repeat
a microwave set to reheat.

While working my routine at Amazon
picking the same items I always have before
I was trans shipped to trans ship
filling me with anxiety
understanding unfamiliarity
nerve racked novice
sweat trickles down my face
soaking into my PPE.

Two man crew I'm meant to join
black guys wearing reflective vests
"I'm here to help, can you help me?"
blank stare foreground
empty workload background
perplexed aesthetic
French accented walls muffle communication
I form a reluctant alliance with repetition
yet my counterpart understands everything I say.

Their patience eases my troubled mind
when my capability falls short of my enthusiasm
hand gestures guide me free of frustration
I stay silent, only saying
"I'd talk more but I figure it'd be a hassle"
my learning ambassador understands
but his extra steps start a conversation
creating comforting small-talk acclimating aliens.

Sydna and Josue from Ivory Coast and Congo respectively
and respectful was all I wanted to be
yet I got the impression Josue was uncomfortable
after I had brought up gold, diamonds, and oil
but Sydna had taken control of the conversation
telling me all about the lottery he won to be here
I wondered what lottery's prize was living in Cincinnati
to work a factory job in Hebron.

We work bundling totes together
printing confusing and mysterious tags
reading ACY, CMH, SDF, JFK, or CSG
these bundles will be leaving CVG eventually
carried away on skids
to their indifferent destination
of the same capitalist company
just at another fulfillment center.

I guess I should be more grateful
to be in the poor nation of transportation
but I'm not—I'd rather be picking
where I can communicate with compatriots freely
but I'm far away from the south mod now
near the north side red tag area talking to strangers
it's just a shame
because there's plenty of material where I came from
but transitory shipment is where the work is.

Do I want to see the forest through the trees
if that also means the hornets in between?
There's a comfort trail of nothingness
leading beyond the sun setting west
towards a dark abyss looming
my friends try to soothe me
by saying it'll be like before I was born
but at that point my life ****** even more
so the vastness of the universe
reminds me that my bullet hearse
isn't blessed or cursed
it'll just disperse
like the tears on the face of my clock
coming from the face I show not
a shocked ant on a spinning rock
with vertigo fearing it'll fall off
knowing once the spinning stops
there's a darkness block
with nothing to be bought
or sold
not even gold
can reverse getting old
so I don't want to see the forest
and I'll hide behind the trees
getting lower on my knees
praying God help me please
because I fear that final release.

I wish I could take everything true about the world
and put that into a gun to shoot into the youth of America
but I guess they're already receiving a satisfactory education
when normal bullets teach us all we really need to know.

When I stay inside I stare at the ceiling
when I go outside I stare at the sky.

When you said your love couldn't be purchased
I didn't think you meant it was worthless
but after examining all of what I thought vs. what I got
you made funeral parlors out of churches
I misunderstood when you said you'd give me big top
I didn't think you meant the circus.

There’s an online article with a bullet point of cities
• to which the bullet pointed
underneath those cities is a bullet point of schools
• to which the bullet pointed
underneath those schools is a bullet point of names
• to which the bullet pointed.

Underneath that article is a bullet point of comments
• from which bullets point
underneath those comments are bullet points of discourse
• from which bullets point
underneath that discourse lies our nature
• from which bullets point.

I don't need help changing my tire
I need your political support
to put out this fire
set by the angry mob of course
and there's no way I can force
you to see from the high horse
you gained from light chores
so keep your random acts of kindness
as long as you cure your blindness
I think we could find this
more profound niceness
embedded within the social construct
so kindness is required and not luck
because our intermittent charity
won't achieve economic parity
making our situation scarily
here to stay apparently
so don't tell me to be civil
from behind the American sigil
that sits on a swivel
with **** symbols
and those that swindle
a nation of marks
pushing shopping carts
in a lockstep art
dividing us from the heart
so even if you mow my yard
we'll still be miles apart
separated by a canyon of cordiality
that a river of oppression runs through
carrying away our ordeal reality
as fast as guns do
when they're held by the sightless
who convince themselves they're righteous
through random acts of kindness.

We boil down competition to its simplest terms:
Who is better? Who is the best?
Observing games, challenges, and obstacles
deciding who we feel encompasses
the best skill set for said endeavors
by picking teams or individuals above others
as a way of communicating our support for the prioritization
of their methodology or personality
because we know if they are revered enough
they can become role models or even celebrities
and inspire and influence the next generation
changing the way games, challenges, and obstacles
will be met in the future.

Respec / respecced / respeccing is
                                                 video game
I have respect                         slang for
for those who respec            redistributing
because it rejects                   a character's
that what was recent            skill points
cannot relent                          or attributes
so we can repent                   in order to
and reinvent                          change their
for a new intent                    specialization;
                       ­                          the word is
an abbreviation for respecialization.

May 5, 2021 Madison Square Garden
Washington Capitals vs. New York Rangers
there is a tense atmosphere after a fight
between these two teams in the game prior
the Rangers are looking for revenge
against the Capitals and the NHL
and are only interested in fighting
but there is a quieter storyline developing as well:
TJ Oshie returning to the Capitals lineup
after being out for a handful of games
while grieving the loss of his father
so nothing was expected from him except getting reacquainted
with the game his father coached him to play
between baseball, football, basketball, and golf
and pow wowing with their native Ojibwe tribe
while living with NHL forward Henry Boucha
to the point TJ called him coach instead of dad.

With all the history and backstories
the actual game had to start at some point
and it started with three fights in the first second
there would be more fighting throughout the game
TJ Oshie had never been too interested in fighting
he was interested in playing hockey and that's what he did
in a game where the other team was trying to
teach the league a lesson
by attacking the integrity of the sport
TJ Oshie taught a lesson
by maintaining his own integrity
by playing the game his father taught him to play
instead of playing into the negativity and violence around him.

The first period had six fights and even more penalties but no goals
the game had become a sideshow to the sideshow
but Oshie came out of the intermission determined nonetheless
scoring a goal in the first twelve seconds of the second period
it was clear he was thinking of his father as he wiped his face
some of his teammates offered their own brands of support
and then he went to the faceoff circle for play to resume
but had clearly angered the Rangers
who would challenge him to a fight
that Oshie would turn down
to the boos and jeers of a rabid New York audience
but that decision paid off
when Oshie scored the second goal of the game
midway through the second period
and although this lacked the emotion of the first goal
it was a productive way for Oshie to pay tribute while playing.

By the third period things had calmed down
enough people had been thrown out of the game
that both sides didn't want to push their luck
and were on considerably better behavior
and seemed like they were just waiting for the game to end
but TJ Oshie's legs had been moving all night
and they continued moving
pumping through pain and loss
scoring one more goal wasn't going to bring anybody back
but this wasn't about resurrection
nor was this about scoring
this was about being
somebody who puts in maximum effort
and one more goal came as a result
creating Oshie's fourth career hat trick (he has five now)
and as a couple lonely hats fluttered to the ice
Oshie was embraced by his team
congratulating his accomplishment
admiring his resiliency and capability
before returning to their spots on the bench or ice
leaving Oshie alone on the bench
putting his head down
to silently reflect
on Henry Boucha
on the Ojibwe tribe
and on the game he played tonight
and the way he played it
and the coach who gave him all of those things.

I said this year’s Oscars slapped
you said nobody says that
so I said it’s all copacetic
I’m a product of my time’s word aesthetic
so I’m deadass proud that I said it
without regard to whether it’s respected.

Time passes slowly
like **** in an hourglass
sitting watching hours pass
while no one knows me
in my internalized identity crisis
my multiple identities fight this
feeling of being lonely
I’m with all the people I’m not with
this is my fallacious fantasy’s gift
I can hear myself groaning
like a zombie foraging in the mist
I blindly eat what’s in my fists
in the distance lights are glowing
but all I see are tiny dots
in an electrical gridlock
my definition of recently keeps growing
as the rest of my life keeps shrinking
it’s hard to keep going
this deep into sinking.

We need to be putting people on planets
before there are Putin people on planets
so we can dictate a culture
free from dictators
deporting the Dutertes from the atmosphere
that burns the arrows of the Bolsonaros
there's no progressive bastion here
so we must look forward in the years
past all of the Kim Jong-uns
even though their bombs might fall soon
so we can find the Roosevelts and Kennedys
to change the scorching hell ahead we see
but those leaders are obstructed
by the not so brainy
followers of Ali Khameini
believing ancient myths and men who grift
there's so much mud to sift there's no way to lift
what keeps us from other planets
through nationalist panic
and conspiracy theories
reaching the selective hearing
of god fearing *******
calling Trump their master
and the oppressed their slaves
we need to reach other planets
but we're still stuck in the cave.

Because I’m lonely
I’m desperate
because I’m desperate
I’m taken advantage of
because I’m taken advantage of
I’m distrustful
because I’m distrustful
I isolate
because I isolate
I’m lonely.