A Poem in six senses: Part 4
In
the marketed fear of the media-demagogues spouting Fox and General Electric
text-messages
Of
whose soil is worthy of bombardment, whose hand is worthy of embroiling the
lens in air
Of
a drone choosing this man over that transforming the brethren of bystanders
To
question the foreign-land travelers returning to propagate the goodness of
faith into hatred
Vengeance
is fueled funeral after funeral with the body parts that could be found
As
all but dental records are kept under the pillows of weeping mothers
As
convoys meet improvised-explosive-devices triggered on recon to protect the
IUD’s in the vaginal cavities of sixteen year-old high school students studying
in texts to be cosmopolitan
Wearing
summer skirt bikinis in a mind pimping at McDonald’s for minimum wage
To
save for tuition that mother and father can never afford to pay
Despite
working forty-hours at minimum each to go in on Sunday’s basket-passing
speech
Staring
and singing at karaoke projected lyrics as if evangelical Japan
Staging
hell-night Halloween houses as comparison perdition-theater before All Saints
Day
Nuclear
skin melted examples of what happens when one does not listen
That
lights beam down from the sky flash and the living apologize for not dying
To
the relatives of the deceased for the shameful blessing of their cancerous
polyps
Bulging
redden noses and rotten teeth falling out into geriatric Hiroshima
Tolling
another country America does not wish to have a military for a watchdog
On
the atheists of China exercises food scarcities and challenging
Royal
Dutch Shell, BP, and Exxon-Mobil for drilling domination
To
set the drivers of the world in round-about circle after circle in a Piccadilly
Circus cafeteria
So
that one feels like he is making a choice between the offerings prepared in the
same kitchen
Plates
of greens, poultry, sushi, lentils, and chickpeas spooned and forked
Mouth
after mouth churning the consumption so that with every droplet of saliva
A
bit more of the world’s finite water is consolidated in a tithe to the
proprietors
Vague
visage in the stark shadows of the counting rooms where billionaires compare
troves
Like
pupils in a common schoolyard eyeing piles and stacks in a global poker game
As
the thrill of the hunt is the opiate over the masses to keep the moneychanger’s
temple operational
No comments:
Post a Comment