Remember, we are only
dust. We are born to fall, built to f a d e.
Timelines void of Oklahoma’s tears tell
histories untrue. America is pre-historic for Atlantis. This
land won’t hold us anymore.
Soundless vowels and
colorless consonants. Confusion crafting
Sequences stop and programs
pause but the space just
won’t stop seething.
Where is the power? Where’s
the cord? Discord running
through the veins
of every policy we seek. With
so much passion, where’s the
Our space once so boundless; turmoil now on every side. Events carving away at a land once built for the deprived. What purpose does this young land serve, the infant
of this Earth? Our need for freedom, hear tell our cries, stronger now than at birth.
All of us, a terrorist; all
our data on a list. Big bro
so real we suck his teet,
so, iron fisted, we focus on feet, but we can’t stand
alone. We crawl, the world’s woes on our backs, waiting for wars to erase debt, our kindness our only currency.
Read us as a billboard; Gaia’s Amusement Park, amazing masses, calling casts for roles we do not know. Our frame
a tent of closed
sequences, of rituals controlled. We pray events won’t swallow space as
our movements u n f o l d .