New Poem - Dreams of Arson

I believe I'm entering what critics will later call "...his suburban rage satire phase."  But also, there's a decent chance that no one is reading this, so there you go.

Anyhow, a poem.



I imagine myself a lone voice 
          into the abyss 
               a black hole of rage

against the plight of the oppressed, the 
     forced into servitude in a 
          system that’s 
               designed to keep them suppressed

promises of a better tomorrow
     forever at war allied with the voiceless 
          lending a willing body and charged voice
               ready to scream:

“BURN IT DOWN!!!!!!!!”

Whatever rises from the ashes 
must surely 
be a paradise compared to this.
But, as always, it’s the asshole fireman 
next door who took his boat 
and left for the week 
while a work crew demos his backyard 
to clear some space for that room addition and 
whatever the fuck else they’re doing back there
so I blow out my torch as the idealistic rage
is once more extinguished 
evaporated, dissipated into the sky 
like so much cement dust
there’s always a work crew
always a jackhammer
Because he can afford it. I mean

you should see the size of that boat.


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