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.