There is a line,
evident to those who pay attention
That the
collective benefits from a man willing to cross
To do what needs
doing
However much that
act may contradict
Shiny
Sunday-morning legislation or Friday night debauchery
We hold the
universe in a prism as if deeds are contained
Under contract of
assurance, that if the mathematics of physics
Can arbitrate the
winds, the currents, the temperatures of heat transfer
Then some
applicable parallel standard could therefore be impinged upon man
A cacophony of
laughter awaits such folly in the boardroom of the equity exchanges
Oil, wheat,
orange juice to Mortimer Duke!
Pirate raid my
Kay Bee Toys!
Debt saddles and
sandy loot
Occasionally one
is to inundate oneself in the precipitation of debate
The supply and
demand curves of economics, the hunger of the heard
Versus the power
of the bull with the most virulent urine to soak the border
Of where heifers
and lesser gonads may populate or abide
Staunch the hefty
oak of timeless tree rings layered in the cackling fortitude
Of nepotism,
birth-advantage and the glory of prime rainfall to expand the circumference
Of ones reach
like a bear hug in times of drought, roots expand slurping up the valley
To support such a
canopy of rungs and ladders,
Squirrels
chattering about in the wind gusts
To perform
fellatio-maintenance to assure nest of the feathered and the sky-rodents
Persist no matter
the ark in the flood or the hurricane’s fresh hydrocarbon wash-up
The ferns will
see darkness, like the old plants they are comfortable in prehistoric shadow
Some men cross
the lines to call out the rational, to incite the riot,
To throw the
Molotov cocktail at the trunk and then begin to climb
To burn hope,
knowing anarchists see the forest’s only chance for regrowth
Is to singe it to
soil
Other men cross
the lines, seeing the sky is still above the tree
Prayer, genesis,
peace, interconnectedness, collective will in the audacious gasp
To grasp the word
government, as if it is not a vile jellyfish, an amorphous
Gray-being, an
irreconcilable bargain towards comrade or foe
Depending on who
wields the ring or the blade, like Sauron or King Richard
Trapped in a
mass, the progeny of ferns, the hoofed-malignant destitutes, the hobbit men
Embark on
changing the angles of the sun’s embrace of the Earth
To fell shadow
with shadow and escape the gargantuan with the collective
That is free will
granted by that greater than any redwood-proxy of entitlement
The gilded solar
revolution is stitched in the phrase taxation
Tax upon labor,
tax upon health, tax upon the sustenance to avoid
Famine and
homelessness to substantiate the equity in oneself to
Maintain ones
sovereignty in a body, in a being beholden to choice
To rectify
balance the collective has one gut check, a monetary equilibrium quest
For what it means
to operate inside a country
Of realistic
macroeconomic mathematics computing out to the populace
Of who benefited
when we borrowed the debt in the first place
Take a birth, a
baby-boomed in 1955 and see his labor
See her input,
see his planning scarfed into the stock market in 2008
Colliding with
2025, seventy years, the ravages of age
Shakespearian
tumult to be played upon Medicaid
Default to the
fern seeds floating in the air
Landing in sewer
vats, feces and cholera prayer mats
To Jesus, to
Allah, to a canopy of squirrels glaring down in contempt
A rat is a rat,
is a rat; the mice the squirrels are the same
Rodents with the
exception of bushier tails that leads one to utter,
“Ahhh”, instead
of squish that filthy motherfucker
Dying and crying
out to a shadow felled to ceased respiration
Water is
historically finite upon the planet
Changing forms,
but never increasing in amount
Gas, liquid,
solid, cloud, aqueduct, dirt
How much does it
hurt to hold the preponderance in a tower?
Those statesmen
of capitalism encouraging exchange
The vibration
that facilitates sale-inducing orgasms of tax
Hordes in foreign
banks like refusing to give Charon his two coins to cross Styx
As if the
pittance were a violation of civil rights for a Norquist pledge
Like depriving a
man of water or decent facilities to deposit excrement
A slanted field
of sport fertilized, weapon-ized and salted in the run-off
Of chemical
operations to ensure the insecticide of the buggers daring
To crawl on
stalks of the bountiful ground; area by area, resources are extracted
In ration of how
one man could stand on a stage and beatify
The Pope and Ayn
Rand in the same conversation as paragons
Or better the
planet Kolob in a cosmology of a religion that just beat out
Video to dodge
full-cult status, for no miracle can ever be created
After such
historical demarcations as VHS
Yet tonight there
is a camera, a series of pictures of imperfection in duality
But one is surely
a man of the trees and one of the ferns
Arguing as if the
other is the only beholden to the coffers of madmen
Plopping gilded
doubloons into their pockets of ventriloquist speeches
In the dichotomy
of mutual monstrosity, both have crossed lines
To achieve the
pulpit of the microphone and the lens
Peering into our
homes bending syllables like dumbbells
To tear the
muscular tissues of our populace apart
As if one thread
veering right and the other left
We cannot burn
the trunk and
We cannot divert
the total wash of our dammed rivers
To the oak’s root
system; there must be a balance
So in this we
must choose, we vote in fervent assertion
Of democratic
identity scavenging for a nut to survive
All in a rush
towards the gathering of seeds
So that the
morrow is that bit more sunlit
This verse
however mumbled is not deceased
Even in the hands
of the lesser devil
The surgery of
mathematics exists
Despite the
emperor’s rhetorical clothing
I dare you to
cross the line of debate this twilight
To quest for the
formulaic decadence of math
To besmirch the
rattlers of baby-talk before their asp-tongues
Inject their
venom into your family’s dominion
Fear is the yoke
of war, the spotlight of mongers
We must fund to
extermination, the disease-barons
Chastising the indolent
as doleful vampiric street-peddlers
Slurping the
blood of the entrepreneurial knights of the treetop-table
Envy is the lasso
of destitution, to inoculate water from taint of work
As if there is no
endeavor worthy of climbing
Only for a man to
remain static staring upward blaming the sky-dwellers
For his lot of
perpetual impoverishment, a shaken fist, but no moving legs
Fear and envy sit
like cancers of the lung and skin
Racing towards
the heart
Each is equally
malignant
And so how to
cross the line of debate; how to choose?
So what do you
see most in the world
See most in your
own beating chest
Fear or envy,
either or / neither nor
This is so often
the guiding point of polls and politics
Ridding ourselves
of such cellular tumors
Is our only
chance at escape
Debate
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