Daniels and lions

i like to see the people in the park under strawberry moon
in Pershing Square a silent film extraordinaire
they sift through refuse cans filled with Starbucks cups and the ever elusive recyclable water bottle
they work through their children’s play dates daddies selling crystal meth to pay a debt to a society that castrated them at birth
or take for instance the widowed diabetic arthritic hunched over Latina grandmother selling chips and Gatorade while watching her grandchildren who were orphaned at an early age because the sweatshop took their mother at 50 cents an hour to pay to pay to pay
the cloister of the lost waifs from mid west America find themselves now staring at the sun crusted over in sweat and cum fentanyl albatross around their neck wishing they had listened to momma
we are here together alone toiling exposed perfectly harmoniously in despair survival but standing
we are here clinging with bare hand to eternal waking time
we are Daniels and lions all

there are

there are new cracks on the pavement caused by time strain and cheap materials there are old expressions on faces caused by time strain and indifference there are old buildings with new structural injuries caused by burning crack pipes violence and human defecation there are new leaders with bad intentions fueled by greed narcissism and ignorance

in essence

around here we radiate from the inside
we laugh because crying would mean shedding and giving out
with laughter we bring breath in
around here the afterwinter doesn’t fully unfold
yet the night and day in mid summer dreams can be very cold and far away
a never ending road of rocks and thistle
around here we build and tear down when it becomes necessary
in essence we always build
around here time does not matter and the Constitution is a gamble

mbrazfield (c) 2022

reasons

for reasons they dont understand
we must pass we must toil and then die
they dont understand why they rule the way they do just a pure desperation
for reasons they dont understand
they too suffer maybe more than us
we are challenged we devise the fighting strategy we battle and we win or die
but for reasons they dont understand
their fight never ends and they take our children again through the mortal coil sausage machine
for reasons they dont understand
they suffer indefinitely
we suffer into a second skin
and life moves
we hang on
then reasons no longer matter

post war America

post war America
with my morning coffee
bomb my soul
with bad news
bust economy
we sing the blues
through Alexa
post war America
which one is that
i against i
freedom of curiosity
5G napalmed
no longer exists
the smorgasbord of Adam’s tree
a swipe away from a child’s magic machine
post war America
infiltrated in my dreams
meander through my streets
come witness your children be

Rob Banks (c) 2020