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