knee deep in our democracy
have we reached critical
mass
that the weight of souls
crossed over
tip the scales on behalf
of the love
the
creative
a tipping point
heavyweight spirit migration
do they look back or only
gather
laughingly
longingly
playing writing drawing
singing
hands off
the
machinations of the living
for how long
without intervention from
the stars
diamond
dust of universe scattered
cross the cosmos
critical mass
Fame monster corporations
like psychopaths
wreaking havoc because
they can
wreaking death of tomorrow
in the toxic remnants of
what we’re allowed
today
heaven scented hell
after our walk there were
no babies left
sandpaper father
dead
man’s shoes
kali yuga dark age
a band of poets creating
insistent pockets of Light
in the encroaching
Nothing
standing shadowless like
silence
like Ouroboros consumes
itself
angry shores
so
much hate
it crawled around the
edges of their hearts
gripped tight
manifest destiny manifest
aggression
terrorized
with information
rage-sickness
they got into bed with
death
despised and mocked of
history
they can’t escape
themselves
the
monster shouters
who tell us to create more dead
for
their delectation
making children afraid of
a blue sky
my
Name is Resistance
© 2018 pamela twining
