poem: the shallow graves of those left behind…for the 99%

24 Oct

the shallow graves of those left behind
police wander around
wait for instruction from a man in high tower,
a tower covered in ivy and privilege
and a spoon of silver still resting on a lapdog’s tongue –

Congress gathers with their steely knives,
circle the wreckage of wayward lives,
the down under and drowning,
as they laugh through zombie clown make-up,
the evisceration of remaining hope well underway –

at what point is there nothing left to give?
when will there be
no flesh left to tear?

in parks,
on Main Street,
downtown and neighborhoods;
a steadfast few stand ready for eviction,
dogs bark,
birds flee,
an infinite sun turns a blind eye –

and i wonder about tomorrow,
and children of starvation,
not salvation,
for the only hand that feeds is a hand free in movement –
our hands bound tight,
wrists bleed;
a noose of a hangman’s rope in sight –

best they pull the lever,
let us dangle in our truth,
for once we bath in the first rays of morning
their blood will fill the shallow graves of those they left behind –

…for the 99%

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