This is the home of the brave This is the land of the free One was foreclosed in ‘08 One was condemned in ‘16 One day soon, when it’s all torn down And the new world anthem erupts from the ground in the choir of terrible sounds coming out of the studio audience trapped in the rubble beneath, We’ll see that theirs is a river that runs through the streets. Theirs is a river that ought to have brought us all up to our feet, and off of our knees But Who’d have imagined the sound of it flowing would hit your ears like a peaceful creek and just ease you to peaceful sleep? So that you don’t see that the news you read, is just parroting a narrative, A new world American imperative That you believe whatever the police believe That you speak less English and more in the vein of a CIA press release. If the rest is dissent, then the rest will cease. I wish I could put you to rest and say, “Honey, it’s all been a dream.” But this was a test, And the lesson was the better learned less within the breach, than the observance. If the rest is dissent, it will no doubt be met by a heavy military service. So starts the war between ruling class fascists and their wage-starved servants. That’s my time, here’s a tape marked ‘urgent’ you can take back to the surface. Now, go and tell our masters that it’s time for them to serve us. Time for them to finally serve their purpose. And if that makes them nervous then it’s only cause they know that they deserve it. For building back the wall and all their recent talk of iron curtains. For funneling us all into the shelters or the missing persons Cause God Forbid they open up their coffers or their purses They’ll only spring for coffins if you fill an application out and they decide you’re worth it. And actually, you foot the bill, They’ll pay you back, They swear they will, I mean, do you recall a time the US government had lied or changed their minds regarding something crucial like a treaty or a reimbursement? You really think this country can’t afford a decent plastic surgeon? And urge you right along so you can’t spot a single flaw in all the newest versions? Our leaders wash their image and their money in the same detergent And bathe in all our data like the blood of virgins And over the horizon howls a horrifying giant who once performed the rites of merging Sprint, and Virgin, and who heralds now, the sacrifice of Sprint to feed Verizon. It’s always open season in the corporate sense and we’re the severed heads that will adorn the fence around the mandatory fair where we will be, concurrently, the ones who buy the tickets to the circus, and the useless prizes. Torture wears such fair disguises.

Now this might just be the last song before I’m silent Kamikaze autopilot Awful lot of hate in my heart And a propensity for kindness Adrift in an ocean of centrists and all of the rest of the otherwise eyeless And I know the instinct to lower ones gaze in the hope of escape is ancestral and timeless But you need to know that the binds that detain us in no way define us May Everywhere you lay your feet be the battleground Anywhere you keep the fight in your heart, honey, that’s where the fight is The force of our will is worth more than their might is The cold touch of steel is worth more than the touch of the Midas. And they can dig Canyons or craters or gulfs but they can not divide us We are the poor and the huddled forever denied until forced into violence But quell your excitement The dark mass of clouds Seen amassing for war on your placid horizon Are born of the toxins of white men Who see themselves more as the gods moving mountains and speaking in lightning Than actual human devices Manifest destiny narcissist energy War pigs in crisis Endlessly, each will keep funding their own little personal ISIS. Each will keep feeding delusions of grandeur and masculine righteousness Each will pour gas on our hopes and then strike up the match of divisiveness Broadcast it right in our homes and our phones and the service is free cause for them to see all of the poison take hold is elite-level pricelessness Timeless as oligarchs feeding you mindlessness Write this as one of the times that I suddenly wished I was sightless as I listen lifeless to liberals praising our brightest defenders of western invasion praising the people defending a flag that has flown over craters of peaceful and sovereign nations, bombed off the face of creation. All to spread something that we call democracy, mockingly, probably, honestly, we come to starve out your colonies, clear out your properties, claim your resources and set up a government covered in puppet string. Tied to our global agenda and ripe for the summoning. This is how we keep policing the desperate, knowing we foster their suffering. This is the mark of the beast of America. Pull yourself out of the gutter by only the straps of your debt, sharpen your hustle and build you some character. Break down your body to enter the lottery, set your sights right on the lux, comfy life of a senator; something that’s really worth coveting. Cause down in the streets it’s a storefront morgue, the sheets are boards, and they reek through the coverings. I’m not saying the sky is falling, I’m screaming “the heavens are plummeting”. Came for the catalyst, Stayed for the dread and that hideous trumpeting. Came for a glimpse of the spirit of war Covered in gore, and speaking in gluttonies A chorus at once both familiar, and otherly. Shatter my solace, while soothing me, motherly, mindlessly touch, I’m a hyacinth, crumbling, under the dirt, to the earth, to the worst of discoveries. Came for the cavernous, hideous trumpeting. Stayed until I didn’t mind, then stayed until I found it comforting. Stayed til the gore was a medal of valor, and all of the war crimes were human and humbling. Stayed until I was defending the caging of children and calling Dementia ‘Stuttering’. Stayed until I was a big fan of ‘access’ and cautiously skeptic when asked if our healthcare was something our government ought to be covering. until I was completely complicit in whitewashing immigrant sterilization, refugee separations, I’d stayed until I swore that I still saw justice in all of this bigoted bludgeoning, not just eugenics parading as something communal in service and properly functioning. Not just eugenics you passively swallow like Xanax when pitched by your favorite brands and your most-trusted companies. Not us insisting that progress is Congress collectively stumbling. Not just the democrats holding the senate, the house, and the ball, and intentionally fumbling. Not just our leadership throwing the fight when it’s not their lives on the line, it’s our kids on the mat, and they’re taking a pummeling. Cause the hearts of the greedy weep not for the needy; they just pump funds for their own re-funneling. Burrow in their wealth like a corpse worm, tunneling, stomach full of money, but they’ll never see the sun again, it’s really kind of funny when you think about it, then again it’s really so abhorrent I’m on stun again. Mouth agape, my eyes glaze, the drool is positively puddling, taste of dirt is fresh and newly earthen on my tongue again I’m running through a meadow from the truth of who I voted for, and god, the sun is shining, but the thunderstorms are rumbling. Built Back Better didn’t stay to see it tumbling.

You don’t call, don’t write How is that not to imply that you think what I’m doing must be right. Think that I’m doing alright And you don’t mind giving up your rights Don’t mind seeing your leaders aligned with the violent right Don’t mind carrying water to pour on the altar where we plan to sacrifice all of your pensions in one of our nameless imperial rites. That renders the rioters silent and pries every rhyme by its root in their heads That quiets the storm by denying them platforms to buy up some time for the task force crafting a law to detain them and mace them if they try to ask for their water and bread. Mind you, the bread looks like moss off a Boulder from all of the mold, and the water is rusted, and red. Bitter as all of the blood you hear pounding when you try to block out the sounds as you’re lying in bed. Mind you, the bed is a spot on the floor, and there’s really no more to be said. You don’t call, don’t write. If you knew better, there’d be mountains of letters outside, stacked to the sky, blocking the sun out, blocking my drive, slow the flow of my campaign funds down, my reputation in the ground by sundown. Good thing I got MSNBC on my PR rundown To put you at ease, maybe give you a nice little neolib rubdown Blare my redemption from Breitbart to Cum Town. Flood all your free speech channels with a bunch of raw shit, and shut the pumps down. Usher out a couple dozen sock accounts to pop up in your mentions with their toxins stocked and talons out, here to help defend a man’s dementia with the passion of a talent scout selling you their bullshit while their drooling half a gallon down the hat they’ll pull a rabbit out, Verbally, they’ll strap you down, slap you with a finely crafted soundbyte from the squad that you can try to feed your family with, and playback for the officers arriving to evict you in the hopes that they won’t snatch you out. But, big surprise, Their Clubs are out and masks are down. Impolitely asking you to pack a little faster now, Just to please the bastard with the fascist tats and badge that makes him think he’s someone actually of matter, not an actor playing overseer at the sick behest of benefactors who will starve as many families as it takes to make their profits fatter. And when they tell those loyal cops, their kids are on the chopping block, to sate their daily greed and need to satisfy their hungry stocks, Statistically, 2-fifths of these are all too pleased, cause it just means that they can beat their spouses without all those little, weak, attempts to make them stop. I was watching T.V. screaming “Make it stop” Screaming at the cable feed of double-talk, Screaming at the daily razor shaving down our labor laws. Screaming at the Left like they can wave a wand and change it all. Screaming at the leaders we gave time, and trust, and money to, who played us all. We, the people, tattered rags and paper dolls. Screaming at our debt, and at the over-fed pigs who create it all. Trying to teach the ways of the world to my son, like I don’t hate it all. Stone soup? Cops came and ate it all Waters for the homeless? Cops are gonna break em all. Education Budget? Cops are gonna take it all. send your kids to prison, think about the time you’ll save us all. Years later, you’ll be lucky if you’re paid at all. Years later, you’ll be wired to a grid that turns your brains electric current to a resource they can strip, and we’ll all be mining Bitcoin 80 hours at a clip, too tired for the drive home, it ain’t worth the trip, cause it hurts to be reminded that you never see your kid. And every time they fire up the hub and plug you in, their memory recedes a little further til it blurs into the dim Til you can’t recall your kin. Open up your eyes, and you see “Tesla” on your skin. Earn a dime a day and owe them 20 for the mandatory membership to Tesla Gym. We’re all one big, happy family, who neutralized your family at the gates when they tried to sneak a message in. And taunts you with escape in our advertising messaging. Taunts you with the sounds of a child at play, a warm summer day, the things we can all sense slipping away cause their frequency is lessening You are Working for a living in which you are only visiting. Working under safety laws that profit ends up pivoting Shifting into figures in which losing you is just the cost of maximizing profit in the world that we do business in. The world in which we fight to see the bright side but always get the business end. And I’ve been here in wait, since late ‘08 to witness this descent. Suck my soul away, in little bits, a dime a day, but with a monthly cap of fifty cents. Cause Tesla-funded-studies show that overpaid employees don’t know what to do with all the extra money cause they’re lazy, and they’re ignorant. But, all that extra capital keeps innovation radical, and you can say that you were part of history in the making, in the unacknowledged, patronizing, strictly-honorary sense. We understand you may resent that Mr. Musk was heaven-sent to take you on his back for his divine ascent And just before he reached the palace gates above the firmament, he dropped you on the outer steppes a month before retirement. Again, may we refer you to suggested ways of demonstrating gratitude for Mr. Musk, that he was kind enough to let you feed his great leviathan. Tesla funded studies show that you amount to nothing in the hours you’re not wired in. Hours you spend quietly denying that you let them in your head, or let them walk potential buyers in. Mind you, all of this, a mere month before retirement. Mind you, your retirement is waiting in the dirt that feeds the hyacinth. Or, maybe, if you’re lucky, you can spend another year assisting researchers in bio-synth Mind you, that amounts to nothing more than torture, but they wipe your memory after every session, washing out all prior sense. Think of it as Mr. Musk absolving all your prior sins. Don’t think of it as skinning you and fitting you with trial limbs Thing of it as Mr. Musk presenting you the opportunity to help America’s Elite achieve tighter skin. Fuller lips. Healthy Eyes Smoother lids Don’t think of it as rape, try to think of it as Mr. Musk assigning you a mate because America needs cattle, I mean, kids. Don’t ask what Mr. Musk can do for you, ask yourself if there is something more you have to give. Ask yourself what more you have to give. Ask yourself what more you have to give. Ask yourself what more you have to give.

I guess I didn’t think that there was more beneath the ice Didn’t think ‘The Great Experiment’ was just me being nice. I never thought that I could shut my mouth and get the message out directly through the eyes I didn’t think The Virus would still be here, after all this time. Thought I’d hit my limit, but I never saw the line. Always think I’m finished then I’m visited by half-a-dozen rhymes Visited by half a dozen visions of the future Bezos has in mind. A future you can picture, since you’ve lived it half your life But now it’s blooming brighter like a Jasmine in the night. Or, more like a prototype of Amazon Vine You put it in some soil and pretend that it’s alive, And let it see the sun so it can read the wi-Fi and Amazon promises it doesn’t read your dreams or seep a toxin in the air that makes you sensitive to sunlight So, yeah, you may not ever get to see another sunrise, but you got a years sub to Amazon prime cause it came with a free code. Sentient even in its ‘Sleep Mode’, Scanning faces, mapping clothes, Keeping records of your speech, and your habits on your phone. Shaping all their ads to target you, alone. And, suddenly you look up from glow of your device, and it’s just you, alone. Frozen in the ice beside the fossil of a megaphone Frozen next to faded signs like “We Are All Assange” & “Send Mumia Home” If Bezos had his way, we wouldn’t need a home. We’d spend every day inside our cubicles, working every finger to the bone or up our cuticles, feb by only fear and our adrenochrome Til one day you escape, but it’s a little too late, cause you won’t recognize it when you see your home. Cause you still look the same, but all your friends are in the senior home Cause Bezos lured you right into the cryo-tank by telling you that you’re the type of worker he would like to groom for CFO And you don’t know your name, but you know, somewhere, there’s a bank where Jeff had told you that your pay would go But it’s right in the center of his hideous estate, past the Amazon Drones, and the Amazon Tanks, who’ll call in every Amazon Robot Dog in the ranks within range of their radios. And these are not the dogs that you’ve seen in the videos, These are dogs that no one else has seen and lived to document, and you’d do well to pray for those, and pity those. Every little movement is unnatural and alien and such a blatant mockery of canine form contorted into such a monstrous radiance, it chains you to a fear that is the oldest, and the innermost. Hidden close to visions of the blaze that only took a half a day to sweep Arcadia. And burn the forests down, allowing Jeff to break ground on the Prime Colosseum & The Amazon Stadium Somewhere he can sit and watch us battle to the death to have a shot to fill an open spot, and maybe make enough to pay for insulin and radium, Imagine all the rush of the palladium, but painted in the neon sort of gray of pure uranium. Safe to say, if Elon had his way, we’d all be husks with just enough cerebral mush to push the buttons, but not enough to make it past the Tesla Brand Mark IV Geraniums Who tell the little microchip they slipped into your cranium to trickle out some lithium to level off your gradient Maybe you’ll think twice before you go try something brave again. Maybe you’ll think twice, and then the prior thought will fade again. Tesla-Training Pamphlets all acknowledge there’s a period where entry-level interns & associates may need a little “breaking in” You can shut your eyes, but they’re still breaking in. Down beneath the ice, the earth is caving in. Down the road, when Amazon knocks down your home, the house just can’t be found, it’s just an Amazon Casino wrapped around the globe, and every hand, they make you fold, and tell you Bezos wins. Bezos makes the rivers red where NATO swims. Watch the U.N. fume again, and draft a resolution to compose a strongly worded letter stating their admonishment Condemning the abuse of human rights and then they all go back to watching with a paralyzed astonishment Frozen in the air like they’re the painting of a parliament, locked in counter-arguments, quoting from the blackest stack of Amazon-approved redacted documents. Amazon’s internal workings, writhing like a toxic mass of moccasins Amazon’s job fair day, where they lied about your pay, and then they locked you in. Watched by all the Jasmine, and Geraniums and Hyacinth, stalking you, and mocking you while eyeing you with higher sense and booting up the drive that loads the protocol for violence. So here’s to the day when the pylons go silent. & Miles of highways close in a blink, like the weight on your eyelids. Here’s to your secrets once nothing is private. Here’s to the prototype Amazon Vine, that, according to Alexa, is just minutes from arriving.

We’re the ones who donated so you can win the race then turn around and make the cash grab And then we Turn around and thank you for the backstab Only have to change the names on Trump-Era hashtags To, #BidenLiedPeopleDied, #BidenBuiltTheWall and #BidenIsAFascist That one’s gonna get a workout this summer every gas attack Every time they kettle you and rush you in a charging, armored mass attack. And the last thought that you have before your head hits the ground, splits, shatters, and then bounces back, Is how much they deducted for that body armor just before they gave your measly taxes back. This is war, and that’s a fact. This is more than Biden gets to fix by saying “Riot Bad, White Terror Good” And sending you away with a little bit of placid satisfaction, thinking that was that. But that was FAR from that. That was far from making half a millionth of a fraction of a surface scratch. That was only muddying the waters of your scrying pools, grind a little gravel on your looking glass So that, when all the truth is bare, it is but an empty air and a thousand yard stare with which we’re looking past. And all it took for me was one classic Biden speech to know there’s nothing I won’t put him past. Be it jacking up your Insulin, or caging every Immigrant, or threatening the victims of his sex offense and smearing them to try and get his footing back. Biden is a war crime veteran who’s dropped the bomb on better men, and all for only Lockheed Martin’s benefit. So please don’t try to paint his bitter bigotry as something tame, like he was just a grumpy grandpa bitching for his pudding back. Unity and Solidarity, to Joe Biden means a meeting where the hoods are black. Which, if it’s representative of ANYTHING, it’s just the executioner who lives to swing the axe, and never ONCE has thought of looking back. And some need never fear the axe who still possess a Hope Chest with the wood intact The same who swear they’d never march with all those nasty fascists, but they would, in fact. The same who say they’d never cheer a journalist who’s being tortured for exposing war crimes each of us should deem important, but they would, in fact. The same who say they wouldn’t call the cops on every unassuming black teenager they see walking down their block, but they would, in fact. Biden said he wouldn’t, so you voted when you shouldn’t, Cause he would, in fact.

Sick of the lie And I mean the BIG lie Sick of the talk & Sick of the sight Let it be said I was a lyrical blade at the neck of the right I was a lyrical needle that entered the temple and opened the mind Interim lord of the flies Erecting a Hall To The Dead In a culture of trauma survivors Who struggle each day to survive Held under pressure by suited oppressors who peddle in blame with a little bit of victim-shame on the side Can’t quite measure the spite each day when you find that you’ve opened your eyes In a nation refusing to honor the worth of your life In a nation refusing to lessen the wealth of a handful to wash off the stains of our poverty lines But they’re happy to tweet on the issues and Pat themselves all on the back for the Bill they designed, with zero intention to sign, but all too content to soak up all the media shine. Like a Bomb Squad only reporting to find the device, and state that they found the device. Watch the device. Publicly shame and denounce the device. Tweet every day on the risk that could rise and then land on the cover of Vogue for their fearlessness , power, and style while facing that awful device. And behind closed doors, they can laugh with that awful device, they can shake hands with that very device that eats millions of struggling Americans’ lives And one day, when it blows sky-high, they can wring all their hands at the tool kit sitting nearby with a manual walking them through the disarming and proper disposal and all point fingers and all place blame over why it had never been tried. But if all of us hostages had those tools, we would not think twice. Instead we were left in the dark with our hands all tied They bring a few ball gags once in a while, and we open our mouths, and we don’t ask why. A few don’t mind. A few start cheering the silence who view it as some kind of positive sign. And a few shout prayers to a squad that had sworn they were here to help, and they were on our side. And suddenly we could hear vehicles come up the drive, we saw the flashing of lights, we thought that help had arrived, only to find, There was a media frenzy to see AOC wear her hair to the side, and Kamala Harris was not in attendance, but she sent her shoes in a bulletproof limo with heavy security detail that all of our taxes were gracious enough to provide. And along with her warmest regards she sent a surprise: A shipment of muzzles, and gags, and all of them signed: “Cheer for your Squad, or Shut Up & Bite!” ~President Harris That’s what I’ll read through the tears in my eyes while I’m opening wide Accepting my penance for daring to warn that the squad will be cutting your heat in the night before they take a blade to those wires. And our only hope to dismantle their precious device is in snipping the red AND the blue cause they’re fully entwined. To cut out the red and the blue in our minds, Wherever we find. So Here’s to Combining our hands, And cutting the line. Here’s to denying the motor the oil it needs to be primed Here’s to a wrench in the gears of your capital, hearing it grind, Here’s to the feeling of loosing your collar, and breaking your binds Here’s to the bliss of forgetting your number, and knowing it’s fine. Knowing your name. Living your life for a purpose beyond someone’s profits of which your retirement Warrants a hollow ‘farewell’ and equivalent gift of a dime. Here’s to the bliss of us cutting the line. Like President Harris, I’m biding my time. Here’s to the promise of breaking our binds.

Democracy of colonists! I hear your Sprockets squawking something awful Grinding to inoperative You know, No ones really free where simple suffrage was an obstacle To put it plainly, I don’t think it’s fair to say you have to pick a side between the war pigs and apologists To put it bluntly, motherfuck your politics To blunt it further fuck you if you think this is the time to lay low and go that innocent, innocuous You want a murder, I will kill your confidence. But first I’ll strip it bare, parade it through the square so your constituents can spit on it and really savor mocking it We shouldn’t have to TELL you you can’t fill a stomach up with fucking collagen We shouldn’t have to tell you that a bunch of fucking Influencers won’t attend your colleges That a bunch of fucking Influencers will not understand or lift a finger in the name of writing policies They can’t catch a meaning past a meme By which I mean they need a photo they can see, and then a paragraph detailing why it’s clever, or relatable, or funny, or, at best, a combination of the three. The fuck you think you’ll see when they assume the drivers seat? How fucked you think we’ll be when they’re the ones we choose to lead? God, Can you imagine someone who’s an entertainer, not a politician as commander-in chief? Just Assuming our command with all the drama they can muster so the ratings for the news reports are truly all the best that they can be? Is entertainment really what a sinking vessel needs? Are we all fools enough that we could be distracted by an actor, who isn’t actually A President, they only play one on T.V? Is this America just binging on some garbage television right before it goes to sleep? Or is it already asleep? Adrift in deep water, The sheep were long slaughtered, So It dozed off tallying the bodies in the streets. But It can’t shake the stresses of the day, so it all replays on a loop like a fever dream. Where it’s seated in a throne, and it bellows out: “Bring me The Believer King” Doesn’t take its time to gloat, just slits his throat and smears the blood on everything. It Wakes up with a pool of sweat, sense of dread, racing heart, and raging hard-on that could break through anything. The cocktail of emotion that I’m sure the founding fathers had in spades when they were putting words to page to build a stage for the display of the disease and crucifixion and decay of Lady Liberty. Tickets 12 bucks at the door Preorders only 10 Ask your average influencer to attend they’d ask “What kind of cross-promotion can you give to me?” Fuck you, times infinity. Fuck all your entitlement that borders on divinity. Fuck the dickless shouting match that ya’ll call masculinity. And fuck my future self if he thinks differently.

Lights raise On a table of senators inking a sale of Arms. Slipping in footnotes funding incentives to put those crops in the garbage and pay the farms. And in bursts a mother with babe in arms. Who can’t pay rent or a grocery bill with her faith, or charm. They tell her, “save your charms” “Save the sob story for those who can help you, our hands are tied to the puppet strings lifting our arms” This is the crop that we reap when we vote on the promise of peaceful sleep and a reduction of harm. These are the promises gone into hiding when Biden decides to walk back a reduction of arms. We are the people left shouting on ‘mute’ because we dared to sound the alarm We tried decrying a crisis of homelessness, hundreds of people who used to be homeowners buying the farm. Biden was too busy patting us all on the back over shots-in-arms. We are the cattle they’ll put out to pasture or lock in the barn, burn to collect the insurance, and then they’ll just carry on. We can be sheep, or be carrion. We can be meek or be clarion. Haunting the ground we were buried on. We make the sound of the great beyond. Echoing back to the chamber where all of those tireless senators stayed till dawn Drafting provisions improving the living conditions of only constituents riding this crisis out down in their summerhouse, sipping an Evian. I follow a man named @jtvion He got pulled over, and he made it home, but he knew it was almost the day that we don’t want to come, but we all know will come, and we’re all sort of waiting on. The day that they snuff out your flame and explain they mistakenly thought that the safety was on. Half-asleep and half mass-hysteria And, back at the table, the senators label the final draft Project Valerian With the subtle approach of a botched cesarean. Dressed in the suits that their hideous, final forms were born in, and will likely be buried in. Close your eyes. Eat your news. Chew your valerian. 2024 you’ll be voting for either the Kamalabot or an outright Aryan. And they’ll warn you Democracy’s up in the air again. But how many men will we see by then with an officer knelt on their neck, while they’re gasping for air again? And the pig on their back is a dog of the state, whose purpose is just to Attack and he knows that fact, and it makes him invincibly arrogant. Rabid as all of the fascists you train in your barracks and garrisons Timeless, indeed, like the Christian need to dehumanize those that they view as beneath them Same old song that we sang to the Saracen And you were Today Years Old when you learned that, for all this time, WE were the actual terrorists. We were the source of those flawlessly crafted disparaging narratives We’ve sent presidents, here and abroad, into absolute power, or off to meet god, to arrange all these corporate marriages I was mistaken to call it ‘Tradition’, this is American Heritage. This is the land where they lighten your language Pick apart all of your paragraphs gut every lyric of leverage Smaller than all of those flecks of valerian they sent adrift in your beverage Each word I write that tries shedding some light on the pig they portray as a presidential paragon Every word I write regarding Biden, He whose Sable arms, Blacker than the purpose of the warships In the Naval yard, Orchestrate our fate to try to sate the thirst of Raytheon Blacker than the Water that we used to flood Iraq , and trickled into Libya so Hilary could open up nice global slave bazaar, that we’ll return to sack, and Pat ourselves all on the back, because we liberated Libya; the slaves are gone! But what we didn’t know until today was that all of the slaves they said we saved are really on a plane, and they’re halfway to gitmo We interrupt this story due to Kamala arriving in her limo with her Timbs on, and that’s all your need-to-know info. This is a historic day, and you can say you saw it with the last of all your energy, cause you were busy starving. Staring at the roast that the senators were carving To celebrate a bill that faced no opposition in Congress To cut back your heat and your lights at a time when the nights are their longest And if you don’t know the tune that they sing by name, after the grave, the Saracen can tell you what the song is. They’ll tell you that it’s loudest where the smell of the valerian is strongest. Where they turn around and make an arms deal after promising an armistice Where the workers get the wall, and the scabs solve stoppages Take it up with Congress and their fortified offices, blocked by riot cops who’d love to stand on your esophagus cause that’s what they’ve been training for and told equates to competence You brought it on yourself by refusing your Valerian. You brought it on yourself when you hesitated giving us your child for experiments. You brought it on yourself by denying your family exposure to all our new variants. You brought it on yourselves, it’s American Heritage. You brought it on yourselves, It’s American Heritage.

I know it’s hard to pay attention. But I need you eyes-up right now, Try to give me just a little more At the risk of sounding like a pessimist I think it’s safe to say that brighter days might be laying down six feet beneath the floor At the risk of sounding too accelerationist I think we just might need a civil war To stand a chance against a ruling class who rig the game and spend a fortune more than we could ever save on an ad campaign to explain how we’re looking at an even score. They complete the ritual and disappear through hidden doors. They wrap up a speech about a water crisis, warning you to ration every drop and you get thirsty at the thought, and turn around to find them sitting at your table, calmly sipping yours. They’ve set up travel offices, locked up all your faucets, started shitting on your kitchen floor. Like: “Thanks for your support, Bitch, vote some more.” “We can keep this going like an open sore” Watch your squat estate turn into storage wars. Watch them turn your will into an order form. Order up the perfect storm An unassuming operative of court approved surveillance and coercion One which the most studious observer would confirm as nothing more than your nasturtium One in which the utterly malignant Mister Musk has swapped out all the chlorophyll for Tesla chloroform Propagating Seeds that breed a lord of war That wait to germinate until the day that Tesla’s set to merge with Amazon So begins the long descent of Babylon When all your churches, homes, and little Monuments are trampled on And While I know the sound will be so sickening, I also know a little part of me is gonna wish I had my sampler on To capture all the screams of disbelief from the insulated, gated, safe communities that never seemed to care how many bodies all their land was on Cause now they’re all patrolled by the same soulless soldiers that, when they pull you over, couldn’t give a flying fuck if it’s a taser or a gun that their hand is on. And some are only in it for the thrill of knowing, everyday, they’re making sure another kid is finding out their dad is gone. Who’d have thought Biden’s Racial Jungle would be planted here by Amazon?

It starts with a few things missing at the store A few things missing that you’re likely to ignore That didn’t impact this trip, or the one before, But it might impact the next 4, or every time you try to find provisions between now and the forevermore Between now and the day when your neighbors form a horde and show up with their forks and torches trying to force your pantry door. And you could give them double what you really can afford, but they’ll all be back for more, because your meager little crop is not enough to stop a war. Not enough to stop a conflict Not enough to stop our greed and primal needs from just erupting into one communal mosh pit Cause Uncle Sam will starve you just this side of fucking Auschwitz if it pleases Congress. If it pleases all the hawks so they can gas up all their bombers. Then devastate some other poor families, far away and overseas because we illegally obtained their dna and linked them to Osama. And when they send police to burn your gardens and your trees, and they tell you can’t feed yourself, you just might get a visit from Obama. He can put his arm around you, maybe offer you a drink of ice cold Flint water. Tell a little story bout a hard-working immigrant who’s here to live the dream and make a future for his daughter, Who works the high-fructose corn syrup vats at the factories that forge our fodder. And he’ll tell you what a slap in his face it would be to refuse the fruits of all of his labor just to live a little longer. He’ll tell you how the spirit of America is carried by the people who would brave a little danger just to make the whole collective stronger. He’ll make it sound so sweet that you’ll completely understand why he’s the ruling class’s ‘Fixer’ when they need a Revolution conquered. So buy some stock in water, take a good, long look at your local Farmer’s Market. Soon the skies will darken. Soon the crops will grey and only ash will be the harvest They’ll take EBT away from those it hits the hardest Regardless of your talents, you’ll be starving artists. Locusts lounge about the empty carts and gather in the thicket Anywhere the dust is thickest All the signs have blown away, and, anyway, there’s nothing left to picket. We unanimously voted to approve every one of Joe’s decisions. Because We were far too weak to speak a whisper of resistance And some were too blinded by their bright Orange nightmare to look into the distance. Or look into the past and see that Joe’s plan to feed us all means eating all your meals in prison. That’s the truth of profit over plenty in a capitalist system. If the harvest ends up in your hands, or rotting in the trash, only profit makes the difference. Only money will decide if they neglect your children. Because hunger kills, so corporations found a way to see that hunger makes a killing. And The Truth is hard to swallow, but it’s plenty filling. ~ Jesse Jett

Born in the shadows of graves. Dug for the victims of War or the bodies of negligent poverty labeled as either essential or brave We had to watch them lay ol’ Lady Liberty down on the lathe. Shave all her salient features away. We like our women condemned, We like our women contained, We like our platitudes flaccid and vague, We like to deify people objectively late for The Hague. We like our senators boneless, Cause we’ve only elected the spineless Who all lack backbone, and possibly teeth Cause they don’t bite back, And they don’t speak up They resign like sheep into silence. I don’t have much hope when the meek all inherit the planet, cause they fumbled the house, and the senate, and handed the reigns to the people they spent 4 years all proclaiming as baseless, corrupted upholders of bigotry, leeching our taxes like bandits But ALL OF OUR LEADERS ARE WEARING THAT STANDARD All of them work for the global purveyor of violence, pollution, genocide, bias, fascism, child starvation through sanction, cultural cleansing, and propaganda Black Mariah White Miranda The streets crescendo The fascists answer Any donation you give them is feeding the cancer Bloating their egos so they can come dangle the carrot, promise you 2 grand, and hold it for ransom. Like we should fall all over ourselves When the squad tweets. Lick the squads boots, Kiss the squads feet. They ask: “What would the money we promised you months ago actually MEAN.” “What would a one-time check to pay part of your rent and allow you to eat for a week mean to you and your family of three?” “Tell us you need it” Tell us you want it SO BAD. We can’t heaaaaaaar yooouuuu. “Tell us how thankful you are for the Squad, cause we’re all that you have” Tell us how grateful you are that we watered the bill down to please the republicans, KNOWING their votes weren’t needed to see that it passed! That’s called Unity. When your overlords can get along peacefully, and agree on the most cost effective way to starve American families to death, discreetly kill off the disabled, and slaughter people of color with impunity in broad daylight. That’s what they mean by ‘Unity’. That’s what they want us to be fucking THANKFUL for.

The power balance shifted And Suddenly the cdc said we were free to scurry back to normalcy, and all the bans were lifted All the masks were thrown into a dumpster full of body bags like we were out to sea, and had a captain always screaming “LAND!!!”, no matter how far out we’d drifted. No matter how far down you kept your head, you would be plucked from out the crowd, and you’d be scanned and sifted You’d be human contraband they smuggled off of private land to 20 years unlawfully detained to waste away beneath a federal prison diet plan You’ll accept a brand made of the bloodshed of your fellow man, and think that you’re still free because they let you pick the hand and let YOU dip it in. I used to think they looked at us like dividends Now I think they see us more like fees, and they think feeding us amounts to breeding fleas, so our humanity is fading in their dissonance If Trump was ever right it’s when he said we had no innocence. And, incidentally, also when he cut the cost of insulin. We reached the Oval Office for a comment and they emailed back a geosat photo of our office with a target on it, reading: “Please confirm this as the site where you would like the special forces to arrive to try and beat out a denouncement of your insolence.” “And mace you in the face each time you cry or try to choke out claims of innocence” Now, aren’t you glad you voted blue to insulate your ignorance? When censorship was rushing past, you offered gas and asked if you could push the pedals Suddenly, when all of the election dust has settled, you’ve been gassed and kettled, only now you start to see there’s very little difference, and what difference there is, is clearly not how you’d envisioned it. Like When Biden said he lied and that a hundred thousand immigrants were limited. Kept the limit Trump had implemented that we said was unamerican and hideous Suddenly it’s standard foreign policy and Joe’s equipped with all we need cause he’s so up-to-speed and so fastidious And that’s the line the news will try to sell, and you can tell they think we’re really that oblivious. Because clearly, we were really that oblivious. Clearly we accepted lesser stimulus like idiots like we think our requests to live with dignity should really all be leveled at our leaders in the form of something pleading, something poor, or something piteous. Like it’s not enough they worked you to the floor, paying you a wage that spit directly in your face and through your pores, directly to the source of your meridians Til all of the valerian on what remains of earth cannot return your cursed worth from something burnt into the dirt to something blooming and viridian Only then, you’ll start to see there’s very little difference, and the difference there is, I warned you of for 90 minutes that I bled into the sonic, til the every word stood Onyx and Obsidian in its intent and Rigor-fucking-Mortis in conviction. I delivered it with pops and hiss and honest spit and honest tears and honest smears of politicians Who are honestly more evil than you’ll ever find in all your fiction And I honestly don’t need your validation for my malediction And I honestly could feed on all my hate until i’m spirited away it’s such a raw nutrition Organic in display like it was something Tesla-Made, with a solar-photosynthesis array A CIA plant that withstands brutal heat as well as temperatures of 45 beneath, and does not wither til it carries out its final mission. Realistically Organically decayed among the graves of all who saw the vision i depicted. That waits around the corner like the single mom we just evicted. Who put her faith in Biden and was shocked to find him walking every promise back across the profit picket line, til homeless shelter funds were tight, resources for stable spots to sleep at night were nowhere she could seem to find which puzzles her since hers is but a nightmare widely shared, and all too easily predicted. Only now, she’ll start to see, there’s very little difference, And the difference that there is is clearly not what she’d envisioned. .

I took my heart out Put it in the trash Looking back, I guess I should have just donated it for research Grabbed a sweater, I was bleeding through my t-shirt Took my phone out, gave the media a scroll and saw a dozen pigs brutalize a man until he had a seizure And then continue beating cause it’s more than just a knee-jerk, it’s an everyday procedure. Absolute Power is the sickest teacher. Absolute Power makes the crowd afraid of anything but heaping thanks upon the proud protectors of this fascist state so they can’t wait to praise their brave demeanor They can’t wait to cheer on all the officers who beat their neighbors bloody cause they’re not the ones detained, they’re the ones who got to watch it from the bleachers If you thought that was bleak, then grab your seats, I’m getting bleaker Down a thousand leagues beneath the dreams of the beleaguered Beyond the wall of sleep into the clamor of the non-sleepers Ever deeper til I’m barely hearing my own reverb Til I can’t feel my own speaker Til I can’t see a future where I’d ever change a lyric just to land a feature And I’ve never been a man to go for standard features I’d like to wax my fingerprints and sand my features Smoother than the patch you slapped across your tax releases Cause we live in a world where you can watch a dozen cops assault a man until he’s seizing And you might feel the need to try to film it since there’s no one else who sees it And if they see your phone, then they’ll be at your throat announcing how they’re here to seize it. And if you don’t comply with them, you know it’s open season And instinct tells you ‘yell for help’ til you remind yourself that you’d be calling for the aid of the same brave policemen who are threatening to bash your teeth in This land is your land, now here’s your easement. This is the law and those upholding it are far from decent But not too far from calling your free speech a form of “treason” Not too far from calling in the dogs and watching gleefully as you get torn to pieces. You don’t need to break the law for them to find a reason Cause, now, the laws can change into whatever your arresting officer will deem needed So pardon me if I’m a bit defeatist But how is our compassion for the least of us so rarely ever focused on the poor, but more concerned about a fetus? As you can see, you need not be a member of the ruling class elite to be elitist As you can see, you needn’t be concerned about our needs to come and lead us. I mean, look at how our leaders treat us. See how they don’t even hide, they step out in the brightest light of day to say they plan to cheat us And we would let them lock us in a cage and when they send us on our way we wouldn’t say a word should they display the nerve to claim they freed us. We’d just thank them for protecting us, and serving us, and macing us, and beating us, and raping us and turning off the cam so there’s no proof of what they take from us So, basically we’d thank them for our freedoms. They don’t give a shit about your rights, that’s why they never read them. That’s why your senators are racing to delete them. Knowing you’ll observe the process helplessly and still do anything to please them And Knowing you’ll eternally be thanking them for all your freedoms Even when you really can’t perceive them.

I think that it takes something less than understanding. To assist in lending rationale to politicians justifying obstinately blocking out our voices, and turning from the needs we’ve been consistently demanding. And sometimes all it takes to knock us out when we’re awake is just some positive strategic branding. Democracy is always greener where the drones are landing. Notwithstanding human damage, we’ve seen time and time again how little most Americans concern themselves with matters of the foreign and collateral. We’ve been told that war is something practical Who’d have guessed that half a million deaths were not a tragedy, but really something Tactical But, really, did you think you’d see an honest show of grief from those who’ve only stomached peace in brief, war-room sabbaticals? Stocking up munitions like crusading Christians here to save this failing, fascist system from some 20-something radicals. They’d have you believe the people fighting for your basic needs, your human rights and dignities, are really Russian sleeper cells. They’re so bent on putting us to sleep, they never sleep themselves. Anything to starve us out to guarantee that they can always feed themselves. Anyone to blame so they can dodge a little heat themselves. Anyone to burn in times of need so they can heat themselves. And most will live and die and never know a day of luxury and leisure like these bloated corpses decadently treat themselves. I’m for barricading then inside until they eat themselves. I’m for building walls around our leaders so they really have to meet themselves. And see what they’ve become while they’ve been feeding on the hungry, and when we place the last brick, blocking out the sun, we’ll tell ‘em: “We don’t fucking want you, you can keep yourselves.” “Consider it a blessing that we’ve left you in the dark, so you can’t see yourselves.” “Now begins a lifetime of fumbling in the black, looking for the bootstraps we said you’d need to free yourself.” “Obviously, that was false, but Funny how you fall for all the tricks you used to teach, yourself.” Funny that the speech was so effective, you had zero recollection that you wrote the fucking speech itself. Funny you’ve been pointing fingers, saying immigrants are leeches, Buddy, you’re the fucking leech, yourself. Maybe do us all a favor, and delete yourself. If all that you can offer is our slow neglectful slaughter, we don’t need your help. You may not believe it, Mr. President, but we don’t need a helping hand to kill ourselves. What a stroke of luck, for you, since you’ll do all that Trump would do, that you can just perpetuate his hate, and never have to write the bill, yourself. And what a stroke of luck for us that you lack half a brain to write the bill, yourself. Cause the crime bill is bloody proof enough that anytime you had your druthers, you outdid yourself. And legalized abuse, the scars of which, this country may not ever rid itself. But mark my words, if there should come a day the scars fade, then America will quickly wash away the true dishonor that it did itself. 2008, I made a resolution not to ever kid myself. 2016, I knew the utter fear of seeing what the world was turning into when I finally had a kid, myself. 2021, I sit here, staring at my Son, and when he offers up a hug, I’m just a frightened little kid, myself. Shake it off, it’s just another talk I’ll have to give myself. It’s just something less than understanding. It’s the part of me I keep restrained, who’s foaming at the brain, and chewing through the metal banding. Flying through my future fears and never cleared for landing 2021, I’m sitting, staring at my Son and I am suddenly informed by something more than understanding. The thought that if I pick this spot in history to take the side of silence and complicity, his life would be the more impacted. So, no, I don’t oppose the fascists cause I smell a victory on the air, I oppose them cause I cannot see them everywhere and offer no reaction. And I will tell my Son that in the war, I wield a verbal gun that shits on fascist satisfaction. And hope he knows his Dad defends his future with his every passion.

If you thought you saw your freedom: It was truly a mirage Freedom’s locked a cell away from Julian Assange Our first amendment rights are by his side Behind bars And the next voices silenced Will be ours Rest assured, Democracy is rotting in the dark Rest assured, we vilified dissenters, pushed out black renters, and tore down their housing just to build a little Urban Park. I tell you, Ol’ America really knows how to leave its mark Blaze a trail, leave a hundred scars Rip your free speech out your throat, Demonize the man who told you it was so Leave him freezing in a cell in Belmarsh Perpetually awaiting extradition Thrown to the wolves of claustrophobia and malnutrition And all that we can hope is that we catch Uncle Joe in a fleeting lucid moment of his flickering senile fascist mission Maybe we can trick him into thinking ‘Julian’ is just a sweet, blonde, middle-school Christian, She got mixed up with a few bad apples, slapped with some charges, and thrown into prison Joe would set him free without a moments hesitation under one condition That Joe can sniff her hair before she goes back to school and he goes back to business. But if Joe’s just had his shots, Then we haven’t got a chance of getting past his black-and-white vision Getting Past his gut reaction to appease all of his donors’ sick requests and shape policy and law around corporate mandated decisions. So, Really, all along, I think Julian was one man standing in a tempest with the fearlessness of true conviction. And if HIS is the only conviction we see after he shed a light on this country’s most poisonous schemes, all come to fruition, And we all collectively stare at the ground cause we felt like our hands were too tied beyond signing petitions while he’s tortured to death for attempting to warn and enlighten admittedly not quite the brightest of citizens And half of this country just won’t take the time to uncover the truth, or they just don’t mind, So they’re quick to dismiss it and say: “It’s a difficult position” Then we’re back to the comfort of centrist delusion, Right back to sleep for the ignorant sheep who #Resist-ed themselves into one protracted contusion. Twisting themselves into knots to correct all your stimulus-check-based confusion. Wrapping their necks round their backs as they justify overflow migrant detention or fracking pollution. Then Kamala laughs, and the camera pans down to her shoes, and that footage is 90% of your 6-o-clock news. Except for a feel-good story about a man who, at 95 years young, just made employee of the month at Whole Foods. And the 50-dollar gift card means, this month, he’ll afford his prescriptions AND meals, and he won’t have to choose. This is the Machine that a man named Julian Assange threw his body on the gears of, for YOU. So, to cry out for his freedom is the least that we can do. Best believe the feds will serve to muddy up the truth Rest assured, the temperature in belmarsh is an icy 22, And Julian is shivering in a solitary room without a view. Rest Assured, Obama loves a whistleblower just about as much as he loves weddings where he doesn’t get to detonate the groom. Rest assured, Obama bought the plot where all our first amendment rights are gonna rot, and demanded that they carve his smiling likeness on the tomb, So when you come to pay respects to your free speech rights, and a somber feeling hits you, and you look up to the sky, the answer will be staring you right in the eyes to the questions of “Why?” And of “Who?” So, if you thought you saw your freedom, then they WANTED you to. Human rights are mutable, and Julian is proof Our first amendment rights are stuck in solitary, too, and the next voice silent might be you.

Legend says that Hercules swept Cerberus right off his feet, and effortlessly set him down as softly as a songbird Atlas kept the world up on his back, and every day, he wondered whether he could stand it any longer Tara Reade came out to say the man they tried to label the messiah of morality was really just another rapist. & I don’t intend to hesitate when asked who was the stronger Tara, like Assange, knew that carrying the truth would be the hardest labor Tara knew that her assailant wasn’t gonna make us any safer Knew he’s just the type of man to hand a decent foreign leader u.s printed walking papers And knew he’d be relentless and aggressive in the war he’d wage upon her very character, that his attempts to weaken, and degrade, and embarrass her would be her only compensation But I strongly doubt that anyone could ever have foreseen the stream of hate that came from quote-unquote Progressives and the self-styled Titans of survivor advocation So If you really think that there’s something to be gained out of sharing that pain with the world, then you’re sorely mistaken The Biden team just drug their feet addressing Tara’s allegations, until they had a decent list of smears, and then they aired them out on every station And it turns out No one wants to hear the truth of who they praised as being worthy of such bloated liberal celebration No one wants to really know the person they so valiantly defended even when it meant they had to gloat and shit all over someone braver than they’d be if given the occasion Now Cue the faceless comment squad invasion Cue those fuckers crawling out the woodwork to come analyze the way you wore your hair, and what you wear, like your appearance waives your rights, or that somehow, YOU’RE the reason for your situation. Somehow, they’ve decided YOU should bear responsibility for what such monstrous men insist on doing Somehow they’re deluded by the empty, hypocritical and useless fucking platitudes that bastard keeps on spewing And I think it’s very telling that the best of your excuses when you try to come and justify our presidents abuses is a hearty “But, Trump!”, In which case, I’ll remind you that you never saw the news attempt to sell you Donald Trump like he was morally upstanding, or a decent human. But When Joe says something bigoted or ogles someone’s little kid, CNN says: “Isn’t this refreshing? Biden’s like a mix of JFK & FDR with all the finer parts of Harry Truman” And, Christ, I know they don’t think that we’re the brightest, but at least pretend we’ve got a couple lumens Ask yourself if you have ever questioned what they fed you, or do you just shut your eyes, and then consume it? Now ask yourself if you ate every one of Biden’s lies, under the guise of harm reduction and the promise of a slight improvement And now, imagine long ago that Biden chose to show you who he really was by traumatizing you for his amusement Now imagine that you watched him touch a Bible with those filthy hands, and then assume the power of the highest seat in all the land. Knowing your attacker wields a global coalition born of 3-letter agencies who’ll make a life’s mission out of trying to discredit you through lies, damn lies, and collusion. Big tech is never gonna separate from our surveillance state, fucks sakes, they’re just a breath away from total fusion So there will come a time where even if you see the light your voice will never reach the sky through all the bots, and all the noise pollution So trust us when we tell you that the masking of abuses is perhaps this country’s oldest institution And I know nothing nobler that facing it in honor of the truth when you know that the people holding power have been neutralizing truth since there was wet ink on the constitution So know that Tara’s truth is something crucial to the movement And if you see yourself a partner to the Revolution, help this country see through all the baseless propaganda through the crux of Joe’s illusions, and recognize that Tara Reade gave everything she had so she could tell us what the truth is. Recognize the decent thing to do when someone bares their soul and shows their bruises Is not to ask for context, or offer up your own solutions Your job is just to listen with an honest mind and put yourself on Tara’s side a moment so you understand the path she chooses There is no instant fame that’s worth the dragging of your name And if that’s what you think, then you’ve a lot to learn about the kind of facts the mob can handle, and the kind that it refuses. You’ve a lot to learn about the news, And all it’s many uses. Guess you’ve yet to learn the truth the news will serve is fruit from which they’ve squeezed out all the juices And we all eat the husks and just pretend it’s full of nutrients, and isn’t really useless The jaws of our ability to yield Accountability are absolutely toothless So don’t you kid yourself that any lips are being loosened They won’t ever tell us where the bodies are, or show us where the proof is. It’s on you to recognize the lechery our president so regularly oozes It’s on you to muster up some honesty and ask yourself how Biden won your trust, but it’s America that loses. Open up your eyes, and learn to recognize the bruises.

I don’t mean to sound alarmist But most of what they let you read is garbage Most of it’s designed to warp our minds Until, subconsciously, you find you’ll take the time to lick their boots free of grime and wipe their mines free of tarnish. Oil is the centerpiece A Body count of millions is the garnish. So how’s it feel to know we funded every carcass? That every year our taxes pay for carpet-bombing Gaza under shroud of darkness? We spend enough a year to house and feed each homeless person in the streets on turning families in apartment buildings in the Middle East to bloody craters full of charred garments. And our media is silent at best. At worst, they can find it in themselves to call War Crimes ‘Clashes’, and label children burned to ashes Terrorists who played a stupid game, and reaped the harvest. And every time we try to paint the truth the news sends all their slugs to suck off all the varnish, and distort it into something harmless. The media will hang you by your feet and keep you half-asleep So, yes, I’m here to set you free But freedom won’t be sweet Because you’ll fall a thousand feet When I come cut you out your harness They say those who dream the deepest Fall the farthest They also say that home is where the heart is But if home for you, is Gaza, Netanyahu’s got you painted as a target. Perhaps it’s not the impact, But it’s what you see when falling that will hit the hardest. Maybe it’s the sound of all those children crying out in those apartments that will hit the hardest. Maybe all those little bodies scattered in the dirt will hit the hardest. Maybe seeing human lives assigned such little worth will hit the hardest. Maybe it’s the knowledge that you’re paying for the darkest of atrocities committed on this earth, that will hit the hardest. Maybe it’s the knowledge that we give 10 million a day to the oppressors who possess the kind of Medicare you’ll die in debt before you see that’s gonna hit the hardest. Maybe then you’ll see you’ve always had more in common with the commoners whose Slaughter we fund every day in Gaza than our senators and bosses. Maybe then you’ll see our country never had a conscience. Maybe, then, the retroactive guilt will make you nauseous Maybe what hits harder than the impact is the act of being conscious Of Knowing your complicity and helplessness to try and stop the bloody deeds of Congress That no matter who’s in office, America preserves its foreign interests by whatever means it’s greed demands, however monstrous. We’ll always need a place to train our Contras And Biden’s got a back-up plan should harm befall the holy land, Wipe it off the map, he’ll draw it back on with an iron hand He demands an Israel or reasonable effigy to exercise democracy and colonize the Middle East, regardless of the human cost, or phosphorus atrocities all bought and paid with money they rerouted out the budget for the nonessential things like ever making Flint’s water clean. Maybe what hits hardest is the day you see this country for it’s actual priorities and never more know honest peace attempting sleep Maybe then you’ll look at politicians making speeches like a blood-encrusted beast espousing destiny to empty seats and fellow leeches As the gauntlet of democracy extends its brutal reach Like a giant wave of trash come to crash on foreign beaches Maybe build a base, throw a flag down, and heavily pollute the region Rape your ecosystems, gut your fauna and congratulate you on your new allegiance. Oops, we mean Alliance. This is something mutual until you’re noncompliant We stole something crucial on which you can be reliant Maybe what hits hardest is the centrist saying both sides need to Stop the violence Those would be the very same centrists saying we should all accept police brutality, who hem and haw and clutch their pearls and spend their time condemning riots But, very soon, will come the day the centrists all get censored like the rest of us, and, pious as they’ll try to be, they won’t stay quiet. But they’ll just end up shouting in the void that they were all so quick to render us subscribers And it will be too late to light the fires. So, far away tonight, there burn the spires of a region set ablaze for which you’ve paid for every pyre. Which is why your checks weren’t all 600 dollars higher. Call it Foreign Interests, Or American Desires.