I am beset by boorish, bloated, behemoths
who broadside benevolent busboys by the boatload
I do not pause to stop and stare
With indifference and despair
Do I circumnavigate an indifferent globe

I am surrounded by salacious supplementals
who  stand silently still in streaming sunlight
I do not return their glare
I run my hands through thinning hair
and wince at ignorance made flesh

I am besieged by bracingly belligerent bumblers,
The kind of verbal tumblers who fail to jump through hoops,
These self-proclaimed acrobats, put to shame by pussycats
All too often follow circuitous routes
these pitiful proletarian ponderers, as little more than wanderers
On a plane that reaches no destination
They do daily buy their ticket, but to me it's just not cricket
For we are here and then we die, go to the ground not to the sky
and now I lay me down to sleep, in a wooden box that wasn't cheap
and all the while the bleating sheep hear no-one but themselves

This community
Of color
Is a dark distorted lover
Off the lot
Missed her a lot
When you’re the arid swamp
Despot
And misbegotten
Bird of mocking
Make the penman
Fill the plot
And not a thought is lost
On motions passed
In petty Freddy Gray
In petty cash,
In gaseous masks
In play bills on parade
Just herbal verbal
supplementals
Twigs and cap and spores
And scores of elemental
Muses
Understory roars
When force alone
Can often turn
The people on the camera
And suddenly it’s like
Entire worlds
Are out to scam ‘ya
It’s a capital imperial
Dominion
Taking hold
And Capitol-attacking
Masses
Who still want it for
The gold