Nah, I can’t play
that; call me antitheist
I of water,
chromosomes find home
In not a goodness
granted, but a volition choosing
Not for a magical
tomorrow, but in a reverberating now
Not because I fear
the rod, but because like every being
Dignity and
morality exist innate
I never asked
permission and I was never saved.
I simply never
damned myself to assume beyond my grave
That I had the
audacity to claim priority over time
Do or do not there
is no try
Yeah, I’ll quote
Yoda before Jesus, which one is more real
A Muppet, a
computer generated fabrication or a man behind the curtain
Turning a wheel
selling fear, fueled by fear, repackaged as love
Nah, not going to
buy it; my family’s lie is ending with me
I am lifting my
daughter’s head from that stream
Her mare is
running unsaddled and free; eating grass from open land
No prepackaged
meat; as if that is what her stomach was ever designed to consume
A galaxy, a
nebula, our star and our moon; dancing with the others balanced by time
Not by a hand
asking for handouts and signs of reverence or thanks for the ability to choose
Honor what we are
by not enlisting in the army of the confused
That love had a
badge, a uniform or a weapon
That war had to be
fought for an election of recognition
That any one group
could take away any individual’s power to choose
Volition is emperor
no matter the rules
Of some book,
espionage scheme, monitor digital presence or the protests in the street
Behind each voice
is a choice; agree or disagree and with that
No man in the sky
anyone of us may make up could ever compete
For that has been the
war from the very beginning; to trump away will from the living
By installing an
observer, a kangaroo court in the clouds; to make little children think
Daddy is watching
somehow and oh what he’ll do the day time catches up to you
For now we’ll install
tyranny in pulpits and call righteousness poverty
And offer tax
deductions to fit the builders through the eye of the camel
Wal-Mart, Frito
Lay, Monsanto, and HSBC holding Wells far gone conclusion
To the Industrial
and Commercial bank of China turning nation into god
And more than one
child into creamed toilet flushed sod
To flush
agricultural for industrialized ecumenical
We are what we
are, however near or far and the answer is in the cancer
Of which magic do
you believe that he is like me; so why are you holding on to that?
Farming out fear
to fence off a safe habitat
Not too close with
that crazy talk or it’ll get mixed up in mine
Pull back the
magician’s cloak and this is all he stole
Behind the fabric
of traffic intermingled baggage
In crumble-step
languages and meandered obtuse angles
The voice of the
voiceless is a megaphone from most lips
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