Flowers blooming in a world gone mad,
Graphic novels making readers sad.
Contemplating the enlightenment,
The rich mining more entitlement.
Wealthy feasts are never ending,
For the poor it’s always cut back the spending.
Undeserved police reverence,
While cameras catch their violence.
A Quixotic gospel once was sung
Beneath strange fruit trees where Black bodies hung,
Swaying in a southern sleaze,
Ain’t no justice in the heated breeze.
The first time we heard Bjork,
We were sitting in a Paris park.
From an open window came her music,
Brian was thinking of heading for Munich.
I’m thinking about capitalism,
Trying to resist the urgency of putting things in categories.
Trying to resist the solitude of ginned up attitudes.
Resisting moods that twist emotion,
Manufactured devotion,
To the man in blue suit and red tie.
Still trying to understand why.
Thinking about dictatorship,
Recalling fragmented relationships.
Excellorating repressive storms,
Oppression breathes dangerous new norms.
Systemic racism,
AI deep fake escapism.
Endless denouncements,
Carefully crafted pronouncements.
Segueing without rhyme or reason,
Dictator building border walls of treason.
Gaslighting Kings of a generation,
Hawaiian shirt wearing pathetic caucasians.
Would be laughable if it wasn’t so serious.
No time for just being curious.
No time for rocking chair dreams,
Sleepy truths by quiet streams.
The youth are watching.