Like it matters:
a verb for those who matter.

Eat. Breathe. ****. Die.
****.

The dark is not afraid of light-
-how could it be, of the brilliant bright?
That simmering softness and lilting sun,
Which brims with fun, and fulsome love.

Revolution and sleep, the dark welcomes both,
The light is its break,
Its innermost hope.

We are as Athens and Athena,
mortal and divine,
entwined/inspiration:
libations made for love's drugged mind.

Let freedom ring from the highest mountaintops,
but first know:
You are a slave to the machine, stuck:

Consent was never given.
Capitalism conquered our vision
of right,
of wrong,
of things well beyond,
and all the air we breathe.

It shapes our thoughts,
acceptance the lot
given to US, you and me.

The children that mine,
the beggars that crawl,
the infants that starve,
a price for us all.

In this we are bound,
from this we might flee,
otherwise fight
with fury and glee.

Fires we'll set,
smoke we'll inhale,
chains will sunder,
freedom exhaled.

Or perhaps it best,
that we stay slaves of rest
ignorantly sipping our tea.

I do not yet know your name,
though I imagine it pretty or plain:
Elizabeth or Ruth, Amara or Yue,
Claire or Bethany who lives by the zoo.

You'll be seven foot tall, and four foot three,
Stand with bowed legs, and sing in your sleep.
You'll know mathematics, like seven times one;
Add us together, and make for the sun.

Less would be shameful, this we'll both know;
So we'll zip from the ground, fired from bows.
The stars our audience, we'll burn to a crisp,
We, a miracle, sealed with a kiss.

Love like wine
red against your tongue
bitter/sweet, intoxicating
and
less godly than you might have hoped for.

For why would I be aught but myself?

Dost the eagle swim?
Dost the whale totter?

Forsooth, I am Man.
Forsooth, I am-

-bickering teeth and a tongue too glib.
-fond, warm eyes, ready to jig.
-gentle songs on a summer's day.
-a hearty breakup just before May.
-the roar of ice, crackled by heat.
-a fiery shout, far from replete.
-passion stopped by unsought sound.
-my own demise, far from profound.

Indeed I am, all this and more,
I swear to me, I swear quite sure.

Ability becomes superb, becomes aplomb,
becomes metaphysical bombs dropped,
public consciousness shot;
the crowd shakes and writhes,
the crowd beats ten thousand drums,
echoing, echoing,
"The Greatest of All Time!"

Their god is flesh, is bone,
is stone becoming a wheel,
becoming a tower: a royal-
-tied, educating the masses on excellence;
lacks references,
tiger dropped in the Arctic,
king of the jungle.

Does she not dance?
Does he not skip?
Do we not each,
run, laugh, and sip,

Of the deepest drum,
of the foreign choir,
of the winter breeze,
of the Chinese lyre?

We lords of dance,
we merry gods,
we royal queens,
kings and odds.

To us I raise,
to thee I sing.
For thus I praise,
for this I bring,

Facts of life:
unchartered course;
this music many,
this music Norse.

Replete, yet not.
Unbound and sought.
A reason known.
A rhythm hot.

Beneath burdened skies,
over boiled earth,
breathing of toxic mystique;
we or I,
all the same die-
-the world won't end, regardless.

It's a confession of being;
of living; of dying incrementally;
cigarette smoke choking, winter coats aflutter;
the way you laughed, listening to your mother's jokes.

It's ego, pure: supreme;
deciding, "Mine is the voice from which you will derive-"
"-and none may lessen, none may deride."
For these, our words, have worth for true.

It's the cruelty inherent to love:
infinity, bound.

The universe cares most deeply
for us,
for you,
and them.

Look into a mirror,
see as much;
in your reflection,
feeling.

Information suppression and oppression go hand in hand,
The tools of tyrants and bullies the world over.

They've no care for your triumphs, your ennui, or your rage-
Die and weep, laugh and smile, we're all the same;
just another cog in Their machine of conflict and capitalism.
-there are always more children.

A vicious cycle repeated throughout history:
"We the People!" given life anew.

The answer is obvious; the right and wrong plain:
Black Lives Matter, among other equally clear issues.
Yet, people have chosen a side bereft of love;
a misaligned mob, uninformed and angry.

It's a migraine - a growing pain and self-surgery more so, this division
where sons and daughters and those undefined rail against 'tradition'.

Mayhaps that's the due,
The price of our condition...
Or so I might have said, once upon a time.
I've since learned to live, and better learned to rhyme.

The fight is continuous, and the price always paid.
I'd rather it us, a generation razed.

One choice:
Two words, "Stupid *****."
Three steps taken in anger;
a four count-

              Crimson

-five seconds lost to mania.
Six months in court,
Seven bruised.
Eight days mourning a missed funeral.
Nine children sacrificed on the altar of regret.
Ten breaths: a lifetime,
repeated:

Let us be as Zeus.
Not as he became, but as he was-

-a hero,
To his brothers and sisters.

-an end,
To tyranny.

Talent speaks a language all its own:
a tremendous silence filled with ease.

I do not mind having to make noise,
clattering along marble shards,
a dithersome chaos,
striding,
striving,
just the same.

Brown hair, gleaming bronze,
Plaited or free;
Blonde tresses, golden pale,
Curled or bound;
Black mass, thickest dark,
Wild or tied;
Red waves, sanguine silk,
Shaved or shorn;

(Both are lovely.)

I wonder: 'Who is Zeus?'
Who is the son of traitorous Kronos and beleaguered Rhea?
You: a declaration: intent on becoming: "Tell me,"
He is the folly of Man given might, a thunderbolt blight,
bled black Kemet, fallacy bent unto wretched epithet:
Elicius-largest: Jupiter ascendant.

This is Your tale, babe of squalor:
royal illusion ( ) delusion pressed
red into the white of Our marble edification:
table dressed in bronze/blade a throated song/stinging queens
spited joy

'Oh, Hera, honoured Mother: a saintess I have become.'
'A saintess.'
'A saintess.'
'A sinner/killer/thief of ****-driven masculinity.'

"I am Zeus: King and ****** of all things gentle!"
figment derived authority
a boy unborn from womb-destroyed embroidery/legitimacy bought with coin

"Tell me this tale."