Poem: Guide

Don’t panic, never surrender, not once

in your life, can you see the flip side,

grading on the curve and grading the curve, itself in terms

recalling beauty and beautiful justice, seems like a torture

storm everywhere, go to the store

people watching like you used to do

on weekends at the mall, it’s like a hell mirror

for the soul, can be found chicken soup

in the smiles of children, until they’re erased by hypocrisy

incarnate in the birth givers, and stupid wrath

in mockery or downtalk, or straight abuse

like when your dad cackled coughing cigarette smoke in your face.

 

Beer-swilling idiot or whatever, we’ve all got our shit and deal

the cards when they’re asked for, but pulling a few

slight of hand slips from our sleeves, showing the Trump card

goddamnit, he sneaks in sideways

I swear to god, at a white wall

staring black, bright moon eyes block

the sun to nothing, but everything is a dip

of the sin curve, we’re all reading the signs

recording progress in revolutionary violence

of some say too much, making us pause for a recount

atrocity, sealing lips shut, close your eyes

for the love of god, we can’t watch what he’s made of us.

Poem: Guide

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