a shot
a cloud
a tear gas canister
spreading a space though a crowd
a line
not quite like a fence
through tinny speakers the order comes muddled
disperse!
a push
back
back
batons pulled ready
to fight
to dance
and in the graceful arch
the smooth soft tracing flight path
that a molotov cocktail
lights
as it sails
lonesome and determined
clearing through the heavy nights air
you can actually smell
the sweet scent
of ROMANCE
one part gasoline
to one part love
and three parts despair
for maximum effect
use a tear soaked bandana for a whick
light
throw
run! quick!

here she comes!

one wrist tattooed ‘tactics’
‘diversity’ on the other
way back when
she be holding a grenade or a gun
but these days
she seemingly parades down the street
just for fun
never for the photo op!
but of course…
she is known to be
the most glorious but fleeting lover
managing somehow to leave every single person taking part
with the sweet illusion that they are THE ONE
the only one, to ever know her true radical nature
her mysterious sense of preversive adventure
she is the sexiest of all socially changing mamas
the polyest to the mother fuckin amorous
whatever you’ve got for a problem
she is most definitely the solution
ladies and gentlemen
please help me welcome
the one, and only
the REVOLUTION

ahhhhhwwww…
remember the first time you met?
she was so hot it stung your eyes
pretended to readjusted your mask to hide your blushing cheeks
and as she passed you by
she whispered
simple everpresent truths
about everyday life
about how the machine thrives off of our doom
every single day of the week
starting at 9
and never really ending at 5
with a bleak pacifying lunch break at noon
and there was absolutely nothing funny
about the way she cracked a smile
“just the two of us honey”
she breathed in your ear
“together under a full moon
we’ll be dreaming up a future so awesome
and we’ll watch as it will
ever so slowly advance
and we’d still be standing there… cheering
when it comes crashing down into the present
and having ridden it like a wave into the past
where it had unapologetically sunk its glorious heavy roots
this love of ours will have forever bloomed
in the cafe conversation
and in the the history books
and from there into the class rooms
and from there…”
she looks you deep in the eye
and every word she says
echos in the most radical note
every sentence lasts forever
composing a perfect existential tune
a delicate little love song
an erotic novel
that if only you could prove that you wrote it together
in that old convertible that you drove
guns blazing
over the metaphysical cliff
into forever

when you realized
you might never hear from her again
you did so entertain the thought
that she would one day turn out
to be a paid informer
I mean
she gave you the access codes
that got you out of that trance
of same-old-fifty-percent-chance-of-change mentality?
and she taught you how to overload the circuits
so as to cause a surge that would eventually explode
the whole god-damned-remote-controlled-APPLAUSE-sign
that hung over what you DO REALIZE you USED to call REALITY?
but then again
there are big chunks of this whole thing
you have been constructing out of thin air in your own mind
and was waiting for a catalist
to give you the go ahead
to leave all that shit behind
somebody to tell you fictions
to undermine all the lies you’ve been sold
and if this is not be the purist cause
you thought you signed up for
you know very well
this is far, so far superior
to whatever it is
that you had going on before.

point being
in all practicality
it was she who gave you a lense
through which to focus on your dreams
and then she took off your blindfold
and gave you bullcutters
to get through the fence
on the way
to what
to this day
still seems
like a better world
and now…
you
DARE
call HER?
the REVOLUTION?
a FRAUD?

THIS
is especially ODD
considering
that your heart STILL
goes flippidy flop
every time
even the
thought
pops
that she just
might
drop
by
even for a
short
stop
just to
say
hi!
those tears soaked bandanas
in the back of the drawer
just in case…
you never know….