Sunday, June 30, 2013

Well-Behaved Fascists

Sit in my chair
and carry your ears to the
table leg of the seat on
the white-topped mountain
on the 7 hills of my birth,

they're calling down
the winter spell, the
one remaining thought,
the visceral truth
buried in the gut of the

cast your eyes
downward children
cover your ears  in
the cowering corner of
your birth, I'll make
everything seem okay,

I am your mother father
sister brother uncle aunt teacher
discipline discourse religion
government brain,
I am looking out for you,

I will make the right decisions
I assume your consent
I will write the history
I will spin the wars
I assume the responsibility
I will consume the sun

I am your one and only

worship me with freedom
and belonging,

eat from my open hand
spread my gospel with guns
and greens,

I am your one and only

so very very well-behaved.

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