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