freedom of choice amidst the hands of oppressors

for even as he took those
irretrievable steps,
Aaron went and said,

'i’m about to engage
in an extreme act of protest,
but compared to what people
have been experiencing in Palestine
at the hands of their colonizers,

it’s not extreme at all.'

*

and of course he was right,
here in the colonial collective west's
moribund reflectionless extremity,

it's not so extreme after all.

not when compared with,
say,

having one's cells blown apart,

suffocating under collapsed buildings,

undergoing surgeries and amputations without anesthesia,

starving to death,

watching loved ones die at the hands of pitiless colonizers,

all normalized now
by
a fabulous wealth hoarding
domination lording

memory hole fueled
socially tooled
staged dueling
cruelty grueling

conformity saddled
piracy addled
intelligence embattled

election immune ruling class.

*

rest in peace,
brave
and
fully conscious Aaron,

forever in my
tattered heart's

open ended lease.

be still my tattered heart...

what's that, Alfonso?
you've gleaned a song from Sting?

our written history is a catalogue of crime;
the sordid and the powerful, the architects of "mine;"

the cult of domination, oppression of the mild;

independence made illegal
on auld lang syne's stolen dime;

the psychopaths' fear of letting "others" fight back

(the "protection" racket's docket)
always plugged in freedom's socket,
stocked in the rockets

democracy's mockery
spilling from it's pockets...

might "siding" right(s)

conforming their porn
and
circling the wagons...

a nurtured loss of memory;
rogue aggression as its child.

be still my brittle heart
'twould be better to let it cool;

it's too fragile to be so open, and yet
misery spurned is hard to forget...


it can't be healthy, this horrid pace
blood running red
from that single human race;

slip from the sill
my shattering heart,
we must learn to stand our common ground...

(when honesty died in Julian's cell,
did it make a sound?)


though i've been to every sage i know
can't water the drought that plagues us so...


i sink like a stone that's been thrown in an ocean
where connections are drowned
along with shared emotion;


don't stop until theirs'
finally start...

keep up that beat, my spattering heart