Monday, June 4, 2018

Tipping Point

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
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
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
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
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


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