the spreading contagion of imporous "for us" choruses

silencing the crickets
by
- Evan Hawthorn🌿

(a pained reflection on the overton window's shattering fall)

[🐾note from Alfonso: the visual aid captures a staged protest over Narendra Modi's latest purge of over a hundred and thirty million names from India's voter rolls. 🐁]

*

if you're going to pretend "democracy" means

actual people have voices you can hear

that might just possibly

effect the sway

of the bank yanked
gleaming regime planked
neoliberal thievery swanked,

Hollywood impressed,

violence sainted, Epstein tainted

slinking of ranked,

COLLECTIVE West dressed,

Masters of War strung,

humanity unsung,

"law and order" monopolies,

then,

at the very least,

all of we the people

living under

domination addicted "democracy" steeples

ought to be allowed
to
check the little boxes

their (trillion dollar weapons debt)

embattled taxes tuck

in those send in the clowns

(reflection abstained)

billion dollar collared

scarecrow vaned,

Marley dragging in
the
next consent chain

for nuclear piracy's
bullying acclaimed,

respect for "others"

insistently shamed,

meek inheritors
raped and lamed
in
'whiteness' construed

"winningest" flames,

seas of plastic
and
acres of bones,

helpless children
murdered by drones,

blindered "Christians"
casting their stones,

seeping isolation's

loneliness phoned

(AI infotained,
truth locked up
and CIA cloned),

sated "need" heating
the
hurricane train

of white phosphorous,
plutonium
and
acid rain,

finally wiping out
the
mined until mindless

("intelligence" shaved)

pride of "self"

(patriotically staved)

caved in graves
of
Abel and Cain,

from sizzled seas
to
false flagged planes,

(and genocide perfected
dug in cranes),

compassion for thine neighbour

outlawed, sanctioned,
and
smugly disdained,

"justice" thrust against

common hearted grain,

manna from heaven down the drain,

(the ghosts of our promise

writhing
in
futility's pain)

"us" against "them" forever stained,

don't open till the feudal clang
of "right"ed might's "strike"

(from ramparts still there
at
twilight's last conceiving)

seven seconds to starless midnight

vain and glossy menus.

*

- Evan Hawthorn 🦡🌿
(the 279th failed revolution
 since we started counting all over again,
    🍁
or,
     put another way,
                                   🍂

 another scarlet streaked sunrise looming)