To Tread and Eat Snakes
I find me
beneath the light,
smelling early morning
concrete;
Left wing
ideology makes
me itch.
The Right
has too many
racists,
fat cats,
and serpents
for me to stand
or sit still.
Liberty is a buzzword,
hollow,
small,
a slur in the mouths
of people
that currently
walk around
the Oval Office,
filling it with an additional
layer of stench,
hypocrisy,
death.
I attack the day,
like Douglass,
Wells, or Huey Newton,
Huey Newton,
Huey
Newton.
To brave this cold,
breaths
must be heavy,
tools must have the proper
weight because
revolution
still stirs the spirit,
a ghost that memorizes
the blues
of its past,
struggles to find beauty,
but it finds
the necessary
space to grow
in traffic.