A revolution exists within itself,
turmoil of push and draw.
Exporting more substance to feed
corrugated sludge that lays a plague
on the surface of your youth.
Supplies of metal-sheathed armaments
can be used in case of disagreement
over whose turf is whose,
to turn away leads with its blind gaze.
Continued prey upon less fortunates,
sleeping in hovels,
cultivating your monetary harvest in a sweltering sun,
dreams of everything you have,
humbled by your shiny new cars and fancy gadgets,
while wearing torn clothes,
letting sweat seep from their pores, stains won’t leave.
As air-conditioners hum,
the fat man lines his pockets
with freshly sheared wool, quite a bounty.
His daughter wasn’t murdered;
left in a desert sun to decompose …
vultures picking meat from her bones.
But you’ve got your power lunches,
Starbuck’s daily featured latte,
Chai tea, syrupy sweetness
clings to the interior of your mouth.
I don’t miss what has not existed for a while.
A kiss on the cheek or friendly smile is crucial to me now
“When disposition wins us, the features please.”
Ovid (BC 43-AD 18) Roman poet.
Red Wolf Journal Spring 2014, and a fresh start
2 years ago