*
another mourning morning
for this, thy neighbour
and
that one,
loved as thineself;
*
for the mexicano farm worker
(in his actual homeland)
who'd gathered profit cropped vegetables
for
a bare pittance,
and,
chased by Pilot's
pure race centurions,
fell to his premature death
who'd gathered profit cropped vegetables
for
a bare pittance,
and,
chased by Pilot's
pure race centurions,
fell to his premature death
*
and that sweet gentle fellow
at
the Florida ice cream shop,
the Florida ice cream shop,
who'd gone to visit relatives
(in another stolen homeland);
beaten to death
by
pure race settlers
(American style)
and kept from his family
and the healing arts
by Herod's IDF
(which is to say
empirically taxed
junior
pure race centurions)
until he'd breathed
his
ragged last;
*
all part of the COLLECTIVE West's
relentless unrepentant
humanity digressed;
always playing
the
same damned tune...
'we're better than the rest;
of "we" we sing,
"white" people must own everything!'
*
- Evan Hawthorn
(the eight mourning after the rockets' red glare, 2025)