dispossessing

the fields of dispossessing
have passed to other hands,
that is, i think,
tradition in these lands

and all lands, actually

the summer rains are sweltering
and we've been helter-skeltering
and sheltering
and harboring our fears,
but those we packed up with

the little bit of pride that we had left.

there is no steinbeck here,
no chronicle of what we had and lost,
that's somehow lyrical

it's just a bunch of mud
and

generations

the Validators

They ran our love through all their screens,
Then told us we were not a match;
Their apparatus brought to bear
On anyone their snares could catch
 
These butterfly collectors who
Place everyone behind the glass,
In categories, rimmed with signs,
A handful from a teeming mass
 
Identities defined by them
Are not the main thing, no. Instead,
It is the locks, the box, the cage,
And making sure their subjects all

Stay dead

Come share the common…

Come share the common fix,
  though you be broke;
Come share the common sleep,
  we’ll call you woke —

Fictitious stars are calling
  you to join:
To share the common, first send
  common coin

Come share the common thought,
  and common need;
There’s food enough for everyone
  to feed —

No cause for questioners,
  no room for hagglers;
For all can dine each night,
  on any
    stragglers

the daily press

who doesn’t feel the daily press
the loss of which is ever here
down county forty-three we rode

where is the promised world of bliss
where what we did or didn’t dare
and saw the blighted land go hushed

i don’t remember i confess
is brought from far to very near
each dark and emptied out abode

so many hits have gone amiss
a destiny we all can share
the sky i swear looked down and blushed

Outside Bad Faith

It’s an idyllic summer in the hills.
The wind is soft, there’s jasmine in the air,
But inside, there’s a bottle full of pills
That wage a daily fight against despair —

As propaganda rolls in from all sides:
The forced confessions, staged apologies,
And experts, with their flammable asides,
Who profit from our latest tragedies —

And one – the one who lives here – comes apart
For trying to make sense of all the noise;
Consumers get consumed within the heart
Of no control, inside abundant choice —

But step outside bad faith, the sun hangs low,
And everything looks great, unless — you know