THE PROSECUTION (DISLOCATE PRIVILEGE)

A.

For another side of fear, enable backwards messaging
And fill all the little white cubes with this
New patriotism promoting public protection
In peacetime while we demagogue and mug for
The camera under the Calvary Cross, rip hubcaps
Off our filthy cars, drink the denatured,
Shave our heads, wear only grey and blue.

The populists call for a timeout, still others
For further vetting as replication slash
Distribution tend towards 0, but we (the chosen
Of this chosen country) vote a savior in who
Runs a sewer of vodka and pork right through
The middle of town, we fire out of each window
Our red and white AKs so as to convince the
Militias of 1989 we’re not just handling art
In oblivion, riding bicycles, eating vegetarian.

As they tell us terror is our failure and life
Nature’s triumph, we up the tax on fat international
Swathes of broken backs, dismiss sources hostile
To the family (even after trash-talking 2/5
The ancestry), forget to button up the vaults,
Refuse to bribe the peasants guarding our tombs.

B.

“Oh he’s just out burning effigies in the square
Like centuries ago, but he’ll be back in time
For Sunday soup with knives and flags, of course.”

In the briefing on possible futures, Young Blood
And Soil said the moon never goes away, Afghan
Tales will be next to take off alongside Polish
Stork stories, don’t forget chinaware vs. software,
The upshot of leisure and coal-mining politicians
Who smile plenty, just not with any teeth.

His career started with trading wood for trees,
For ashen whorls glowing purple with the memory
Of a beleaguered nation, in the myth he says
“Sun’s out, guns out” and looks through the national
Optics of sickness towards a healthier life, past
A black transparency to more surveillance,
More ghost malls, a populace bereft of privilege.

C.

The goldmine is 1995-1999, battlefront 2000-2001,
Anxious interval 2002-2012, and the 1970s
An echo of the ’90s, that decade remaining so
Twilit between repellent and fascinating.

Tonight he posts he is not going to post again
Anytime soon, so no more hating on the photos
Of beer and BBQ bought and sold, time for a break
From the over-productive signifying communities
Of safe, fierce, fabulous, and empowered selves.

Birthed from a paratextual list of candidates
And blood types is a hot new product called
DEL*TE (goes the logic), meant to capture if not
The up quark then the various epiverses
Of her torso blessed unto space, recalibrated
So that both dissonant and serene are by each dusk
Hand in hand devouring white cheddar cheese popcorn,
Streaming media, and sipping chilled white wine
At a flawless granite countertop in the Centrum.

D.

Everything they do for you, narrative or not,
The bass throbs and gelatinous treble, all those
Attempts to escape or transcend home fail
When you’re home is a hat and you’re told
As you spit on your shoes, “let me be.”

Deer sacred or profane speaks of “Europe”
No more, exits instead to goldfields
Bleeding and cursing and invoking the germination
Of a foreigner replete with other animals
Who care not to sleep, so sensitive we are
To not dying, to the history of dogs and wolves.

To say YES to a photo twelve years old
Of yinz in the grass with the tower in back,
That is a religion which is intrinsically
The history of religion, music of music,
People of people with whom you interface daily
Even as with ineptitude you claim to hear
Voices whispering they are not living, they are
Neither here nor there, not in any place
In the country, given nothing after they’ve left.

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2 thoughts on “THE PROSECUTION (DISLOCATE PRIVILEGE)

  1. sanberdooboy says:

    It is good to see from you a new post, but the news from you is, alas, not good. The situation in Europe is not good news.(Of course in the U.S. we have a fascist doing well in his campaign for president, so nothing to be proud of here.) The poetry, such as “Runs a sewer of vodka and pork right through/ The middle of town,” presents strong images that allow the reader to “see” what is going on. And certainly we in the U.S. know about “pork.” I connect with the righteous anger expressed in this poem.

    • Thanks for reading and commenting, I really appreciate your insights and responses. This was indeed a downer of a piece to write, a reaction to the poor state of political and social affairs all around. Venting some frustration and anger, extricating some toxicity, so to speak, which has become one of my prime reasons for writing. Hopefully I’ll get to some more uplifting perspectives here soon!

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