They say there’s no point in writing

No point in making a stir

I say I’ll climb over the gate

and make the big cats purr

cuz’ the imagination has been sent to deportation

And people shun a kind of mental emancipation

They just eat

work

go to bed

face the lead

in the middle of the night

when things aren’t alright….

and I’m up uptight…

sitting on the laptop in candlelight

researching how  the world might…

never be still…

always trying to bend another’s will

rather than creating a portal of their own

they conquer another person’s home…

then back around again for more….

and I can’t help but think of how they project

a lack of respect

for humanity

and how can it be

We sit and ponder these

plans to orchestrate uncertainty

into a monopoly

cross our arms

kick our feet up

on the nice mahogany