the end of my nose is where my eyes go when wondering how i fit into this pugilistic flow of cat meows and furrowed brows i can’t stand to look any longer
the crowd lasted the whole way through, yelling “how dare you” and “you’re not the select few”, even dead heads take a break during morning dew, well, a few, depending on where you find your pew and sanctity it’s not in a place that preaches separation though it got me wondering where i fit in this constant battle between ideas we busy ourselves with. if we didn’t show up to say it’s wrong who would listen to the death march song? would they grow?
or, die away, a bar band that played its last hum drum cover to two drooling drunks and a couple under covers underage consent and rules that get bent to allow us all to numb out our need to shout and be heard for the way we feel. they stole the preppy dress code and stride into our streams thinking they could mask the language of the previously unseen bastards not even owning their rank and to them we should continue to thank that we can check our own complacency.
take for granted that solid ground and sink holes devour even the most profound thinkers of our time who forgot they need to act, not just sit alone spinning a drone to make scruffy college kids put down their phone, for a minute, and check the tone of this nation where i never felt comfortable with how we interact, yet my shit stays pretty intact with this white skin and dangling parts i can’t help but think how far ahead i start. oh, but you claim that’s a myth to keep me down and it’s nothing to do with the color brown but preserving something for those who ‘found’ this mass of land now completely unbound. i don’t see a rejoining. i can’t imagine the whole peace thing. yet, i go to the store, hit the dance floor and the chat room bravado doesn’t find me. chicken shit caustic cancers can have their ‘white’ world, and preserve their jelly minded thoughts. how will you get on without slaves? really? i mean, we can’t pretend they don’t still exist – we just don’t want them living right around us. that too will change, as this whole thing gets rearranged.
you, the deranged, may be the ones in shackle and chains.