thoughts

rally cry for the youth

this generations protest song

yes young people! like a choir now, all together!

this is the litmus test

after all we have reputations to build

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what is protest culture?

what is youthful rebellion?

a calculated risk

no real threat to anybody at all

a way to put western civilizations collective mind at ease

through the pop cult

through the drop outs.

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what if all prior notions of revolution were cast aside

what if all dead ideologies were just that?

dead?

what then?

can we conceive of a future?

or are we to be beholden to the decomposing corpse of our previous indiscretions like rats on a sinking ship

all the rot now flooding in

our lungs full of rancid milk

straight from the wolf's teat

shifting narrative

footsteps reverberate down barren avenues

still, quiet, and as maddening as a thousand untold genocides

a dead hum

cadence of footsteps

bataan death march

a dutiful dread consumes the...

(we are small vessels nodding off into the blue hue

as silent monoliths gaze off into manifest destiny

we are the problem children of the 21st century)

...owner

residue of past-lives coats brick and concrete enclosures

there once was something here

what exactly remains to be seen

to call it life is far too simple

perhaps trepidation is more appropriate

feel the delirium tremors like the biographies of dead writers

and the histories of fallen empires

ours is a base knowledge...

(careening around like rabid dogs

we sank our teeth into the soil

and passed our insecurities right to the land)

...of a haunted old farm house

cemeteries lie stacked up to ceiling

wood creaks and a million bits of dust come rushing up your nose

and you sneeze and you take it all in and can no longer differentiate between...

between what?

where does the horizon begin and...

(and soon the country withdrew

became an introverted homebody, wishing her boy would come home

and faded into the obscurity of grammar school text books and manicured lawns

no one saw much of the old gal in her final days

simply murmured "what a shame, what a shame"

when will that boy every learn

forgetting their own names)

..my body end?