public demonstrations, but just this once
I’m going to let it fly: a startled bird of vast dimension
hewn straight from me to you. Dear reader, look to
thy cloaking, don’t let me find you, cups turned up.
Must there be more, why not? This darkened time
deserves it well; my sword with wrath is whet,
and grown in truth most hungry. May we a
volunteer, some civilian evil its edge to mettle ?
For soon we go a-sporting, don’t wait till then;
don’t be caught haunched back and shy. Better,
give it up, abjure your nasty ways. What would
Jesus do? I’m not sure. I know the Old Man’s
really pissed. Ah, what have I done? A motive, shit, oh my,
I’ve expressed an agenda. This ain’t poetry, people;
this is politics. And I, for one, have had a gutfull.
It’s now. It has to be. The time has come today.
No comments:
Post a Comment