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Democracy

Watch them sticking together
poster in hand
knife in heart

Laugh at them moving together
in the last frontier of a democracy
The city square
The extraordinary marketplace
the emblem of a freedom yet not stolen
The only place where the town can gather
and see other human beings
Buy.

The park, the lawn
Where talk need not be surveyed
And collective demonstration can still be deemed
meaningful.

Where marathoners run
and cancer activists walk
prostitutes stand at night
old women talk
Poets stare at the glamorous magnification of chaos
that is the city.

Beggars die everyday
Drunkards lie
Revolters die occasionally
in a theatrical way
In death is the point they make
for the living.

The only response you can have
is to hold hands and walk
No ear is waiting
No complaint is read
All your complaints are uni dimensional
Unaddressed, unanswered, glorified.

Don't forget to take the whole kit:
Sheets, markers, hatred
Canes, candles and matches
Well chosen words and as a vehicle -
some hope.

Democracy has bestowed on you
the precious ability to vote one out of an oligarchy
of criminals.
The precious privilege to come out in protest,
be gassed and laughed at
and die.

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are dumb tweets poetry? those about comical self deprecation? those about absurdity of lunchtimes the absurdity of predetermined systems the shit that is the economy the shit that is self preservation of social groups and the shit that is my period. aren't these the footsteps of revolutions built upon the personal that is the political a naked lump of clay - the self that has no rights without its body and identifiers. weren't the beats just writing tweets words, that fill up the spaces in empty cultural discourse a space for, a valence towards charged and electric words ionic words words that seem appropriate words in a new absurdist language a torrent, a warm current of intercontinental symbolically void and poisonous words. that live for a small slice like us and cicadas, chirp and die.

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