Resistance

Poetry,

In its very nature,

Is to defy and to protest.


And the blood,

Of all resistance,

Lives in what we express.


It’s rebellious.


It’s complex.


Trust me,

I can attest.


There should be fucking unrest.


We owe it to the oppressed,

And we owe it to our dead.

So we’ve got to take a breath,

And we’ve got to start again.



We’ll need that breath for our voices,

Our organizing,

And defense.


We desperately need change,

And we cannot settle for less.


It’s a fucking mess.


We’re in distress.


It’s horrendous.


It’s grotesque.


Are you outraged yet?


Good,

But that is just the first,

Of many some such steps.


We’ve got a lot a work to do.

We can’t leave it in suspense.

Justice has teeth and claws,

And it’s hungry for revenge.


This fascist,

Bullshit rhetoric,

Has got to come to an end.