Saturday, March 4, 2017

the goddess.

it is a shooting
it's in the school
my family must be worried
this is what it's like to be in a hostage situation

the rage is the thunder storm
baba yaga wears masks; they all wear masks
when exercising radicalist uniformity

my idol keeps me alive. who am i to judge.

i'm feeling disappointed
it is all so boring, and, i hope
they like me. i hope i could be the one
they'd let get away alive, seeing
hope in me. being seduced.
seeing the goddess. seeing britney spears.

i refuse to tell her
i believe in god
even though i do

i am turning this into a movie, called "columbine",
and hoping i look good- stacey, sixteen years old, white and helpless

i took off my shirt, more stagefright
than pure fear; hoping i look right, hoping
i pass as coy, and that

it is sensual, and that sensual means "love potion".

there is a war of urgency
so too i enter the polarized, desperate body, perhaps
a vaccination.

my ideas stick, so are revolutionary; no, not ideology
ideology is for suckers, henceforth, crucified.

i know revolution as language, and am fluent.
i don't know what words other languages cover
that this does not.