penned round midnite, september 11th, 2001 c.e.
title: nine one one response
finally;
the bully, in his own front yard,
glistening crest neon stream got smashed in his nose,
and the spurting blood was deemed holy,
and the crest collapsed of its own weight by the slaves rebellious and audacious blow,
and the trumpets blared the stars and stripes forever in the minds of the small,
in the souls of the guilty…
someone of wisdom stood in a vacant intersection at the leading edge of the dust cloud,
closed tight his eyes and saw the equation e = mc2 in the darkness appear and reappear,
and understood,
[ in a broader, sociological application.]…
i will mourn with all my fiber a humanistic minimum for any and all of my species,
be they “good” or “evil”, if they are in pain...
i will mourn the method...
i will not mourn the message;
but knowing the common mind will repress and deviate that message,
that will be my deepest mourning...
a poisoned soil will always produce a poisoned harvest...
