Late For Class

in Poetry

it’s sunshine simple,
this dark that rises
and realizes that riot
is not the only way

everyday sad will suffice
to attest to the regress
inherent in a people’s democracy,
Oh say, can you see

equal parts betray an organic
hierarchy, they say, and that
return to our natural way, is
a path of politics that fictions
our day to day, making the anomaly
feel normal, and necessary

And Then

stages are staged
and dialogue scripted
and rage acted out
and our times made theater
by a method, with direction
for a purpose against principal…
a show of force, a display of power

it’s sunshine simple,
this dark that rises
and realizes that riot
is not the only way

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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