Home of the Brave

I’m driving somewhere through

downtown America passing the familiar

hunched over forms of the homeless

helpless nomads seeding the boulevard

smoking butts of dead dreams

blending into the sidewalk grime

they wait for daylights end

to bed down in the garbage

for peace without eyes

for a leader to transplant them

out of dark stained piles and

into the American dream

they live like pollen float

scattered to propagate

by modern purpose

uprooted by a formless

consuming system

centered in self-preservation

professing that all men are not

created equal some have bigger dicks

some are bigger dicks

and they harbor scorn for this

begging nation convinced it is

an act of the people

by the people so they can

do no more for the people

suffering is true equality

dark flowered spirits planted in dust

creeping Charlie’s - wandering jews

bleeding hearts - perennials returning

by narrow escape into full circles

where we all began

with budding promise and grace

trusted with a garden - our home

we’re turning to waste

mindlessly murdering

our keep and ourselves

our basal roots bound and awry

with the only choice left is to

MUTATE or DIE