i've my head on a fence-post, and also
tell the healing spirits we say, "no".
keep our orb a bubble. keep our answers
the answers they are.
keep ourselves waiting for glory in repose.
i've my head on a mugshot, on the news, send
the army out for blood
for one a traitor not to nature,
televise the beating.
i've my eyes examined for redness, for dialated
pupils, for a soul, for evidence,
we dismiss evidence for our reactions.
without our reactions, we lose our pride,
there is nothing to be right over any longer.
there is nothing to be right over.
tell all of my friends that
violence comes from hell- not
from the teachers from whom we've learned,
tell them they're criminals not yet disposed.
to live, although
we have no right to live how the others live.
we're criminals not yet disposed.