Like chess and fencing we socially dance,
and when our eyes meet,
my honesty turns yours away
You have built your little tyranny
on a toothpick structure of little tyrannies
interlaced with the fat bole of blackened, rotting, misguided malignancy
hundreds of years in the making
You help to pass laws unconsented
to steal another set of choices
further branding me as cattle,
too stupid to choose for myself
Your back, right pocket knows what’s best for me
Yet I’ll not wear the spots nor fill my udder,
fat with televised milk for you to draw mute industry from
No, I must parry continuously
as you test constantly
my ability to twist and weave.
You seek many painted hearts on my uniform
where your epee of code and assumption can sink its point
You train me in the art of precariously positioning
my expression of consciousness
I must word well my expressions for you will use them,
twist them, horribly misconstrue them.
You bastardize my intention
and professionally call me knave and nigger
Your tongue is an accepted, yet self-appointed brand
as you claim me as of your herd
to protect me from my ignorance about life’s spinnings
which I understand far beyond your years.
I could tell you about atoms and Eve.
Your ministry and ministrations stand only
on the complacency of the masses.
Not on Truth or Love, nor even common sense.
Your vested interest in inefficiency kills us both.
Your plan based on planned obsolescence is,
by it’s nature, already obsolete.
When you smirk as your accusations sink into empty nodding heads
and I look at you,
amidst the sound of jingling coins being etched
in electronic code on plastic, and in flesh,
I see the little boy that you are,
whose First Cause was to help make things more fair.
Yet life’s unfairness jaded your distance of vision
and you see now only your pockets and penis.
My honesty reminds you of that
and I see that nanosecond’s flicker of fear in your eyes,
and fearing that I have seen it
you fly into quickly checked,
but no less thoroughly punishing anger;
and you fail to realize that it was I who beckoned that flicker.
I coaxed that memory,
and we must wonder who is fucking with who.
My face stings with your glove.
And even after endless duels
I can still look on your human face
and mentally reconstruct how it must have looked
when you were a child.
I see no smile to compare,
I can only see how you glowered with misunderstanding and resentment
at another scolding and punishment
as you walked down the hall to your room,
full of the misunderstanding of being disciplined
and held responsible for the knowledge you did not until now possess
about breaking yet another rule which you never knew existed
And today your obedience to hypocrisy unfolds
as you tell me that ignorance of the law is no excuse
Your hurt is so hidden, yet obvious
and your purpose is so forgotten that you would sacrifice all:
Earth, air, truth, life,
the birthright of selfhood
and freedom for all, including yourself
for some dollar,
or sexual conquest,
or libidinous notice,
to, for just another moment,
buffer your attention from your fear
and the nakedness of your disease.
Is the next moment’s discomfort within illusory comfort
worth destroying the healing I could bring?
You misread worth and sustainment,
for if money grew on trees,
you would make an excellent environmentalist.
© 2015 William Suphan
- Before Water Takes Me
- Fork In My Path