you are the lump
preventing my swallow.
& nausea,
now a familiar friend,
feebly attempts to collapse your solidity
in the back of my throat,
as do the lies I tell myself aloud
in order to forget.

I wonder if you remember,
or does your new sun shine so bright
that she blinds you from your own past?
perhaps she's more of a
supernova, like you said
& so I'd like to think;
something temporary.

still, she came amidst fire & light
while I came with a
removable bow on top;
received pain on a similar platter
as that of my uneaten dinner;
I understand.

my final question is if that sort of
amaurosis makes you dizzy;
tell me,
what effect does she
have on your
stomach?

To you, you and we, I write this elegy.
Though none shall see from blinding screens,
flashing colors and unfulfilled dreams,
I stand perishing with the few and the many,
peeking at the dark storm brewing,
while the rest sleep soundly in the rain.

In crowded crowds on sanctioned sidewalks,
we the masses sleepwalk with strings under our shirts;
Amnesic of our history,
speeches and words now smeared and silent
and all of that and who was great before us forgotten between pages;
Absent of the present,
blindsided by the amaurosis of propaganda,
selfishly trapped in selfies, we are left with no knowledge of the self;
Unaware of the future,
so chemically fixed, so wrapped in wool,
so unknowing of our enemies, even the Fathers
have rolled over in their graves.

We've been born and built into a machine vast and complex,
an ever progressing apparatus of countless lies
and watching eyes; and we are nothing more but the cogs,
spinning, ignorant of the system we so helplessly preserve,
afraid to stop our beast in its tracks.

We've all sang "My Country Tis of Thee",
but your country tis no more yours, twas never yours or mine.
It is of a gross abomination of a civilization's country
who currently and physically rapes this world of its soul, it's life force,
while we dream in our spinning slumber.

To those awakened and vigilant, I praise thee.
To those still unforgiving and unforgettable, I cheer to we,
the few, who see both the invisible hand,
and the dagger gripped in its vice.
For when election becomes subversion,
when free choice becomes intimidation,
when controversy becomes secrecy,
and information becomes entertainment,
we remain patient and pungent, a steady corrosion
cog by cog, bolt by bolt,
we wave the smelling salts of truth over the
dormant minds of our sleeping society.

I lament for you, for we,
the masses with out glasses
who let their fears plug their ears;
may your silent stupor be quick and numb,
for if ignorance is our bliss,
may our existence be a arduous rebellion.