LJ Idol Season 11: Week 23 - "If you haven't lived it, it won't come out of your horn."
My entry has been narrated by viagra, my intersection partner. Please listen along for the gravitas that his voice bestows on the piece. Don't forget to read and support his work!
Cornucopias
Never had a knee on my neck.
Guess I can still sing.
Never had someone to protect.
Guess I’ll do my thing.
Never scared to wear a hoodie.
Guess I’ll wear something comfy.
Never jogged ‘til I was bloody.
Guess that means I can run free.
Cornucopias
of torn utopias.
Guess there wasn’t any
hope
in the horn of plenty.
Cornucopias
of scorn too copious.
Guess there weren’t many
truths
in the horn of plenty,
self-evidently.
Then
what spills forth
from the fickle trough’s maw?
It is hard to see
beyond the squirming knots
of amoebic humanity,
a cluster of which
has knelt upon the rest
to affix itself
to that sanctified orifice
and
gluts
upon the surfeit of surfeits.
Guess I’ll crawl up
the pile of the ema(n)ci(p)ated
to get a taste
of what trickles down.
_____________________________________________________________________
The United States of America has never extended the fruit of its ideals to all of its citizens. It is a country founded on the subjugation of Africans and the destruction of indigenous peoples. It remains a place where freedom and equality are finite commodities possessed in overwhelming proportion by those who most closely resemble the founding fathers. It is a land that purports to be the global paragon of liberty, yet assassinates black people systematically and cages migrant children indefinitely. It is a wholly shameful lie that a shameless majority too readily believes.
Cornucopias
Never had a knee on my neck.
Guess I can still sing.
Never had someone to protect.
Guess I’ll do my thing.
Never scared to wear a hoodie.
Guess I’ll wear something comfy.
Never jogged ‘til I was bloody.
Guess that means I can run free.
Cornucopias
of torn utopias.
Guess there wasn’t any
hope
in the horn of plenty.
Cornucopias
of scorn too copious.
Guess there weren’t many
truths
in the horn of plenty,
self-evidently.
Then
what spills forth
from the fickle trough’s maw?
It is hard to see
beyond the squirming knots
of amoebic humanity,
a cluster of which
has knelt upon the rest
to affix itself
to that sanctified orifice
and
gluts
upon the surfeit of surfeits.
Guess I’ll crawl up
the pile of the ema(n)ci(p)ated
to get a taste
of what trickles down.
_____________________________________________________________________
The United States of America has never extended the fruit of its ideals to all of its citizens. It is a country founded on the subjugation of Africans and the destruction of indigenous peoples. It remains a place where freedom and equality are finite commodities possessed in overwhelming proportion by those who most closely resemble the founding fathers. It is a land that purports to be the global paragon of liberty, yet assassinates black people systematically and cages migrant children indefinitely. It is a wholly shameful lie that a shameless majority too readily believes.