Who are the Patriots Now?
spittle flied freely,
yet hitting me
as if guided
by my antagonist’s
providence
a hallowed rustle
a fussing-
a profuse liturgy,
or elegy as it were,
for a death was imminent
and carried forward
like a chaotic infantry
scattered forth
by a twisted general
God could not bend;
our creator
was black and white,
how then came our world
to vibrancy?
the argued self
the epic moral
a genomic entity
pulling our strings
the pinnacle right
of country, family and God
each turn of belligerence
punctuated with airborne
mouth foam
anticipating my objections
and crushing them
though I never spoke
he rolled on
with small glimmer
in runny eyes
prophesizing a theology
that had proven bankrupt
still he was frozen
in a shattered prism
casting just red
jagged and absent
not colored
by imperfect truth
just sheltered
in its comforting
erroneous nature
it’s clear descriptive
slander
and righteous devotion
to pointless blames
yet by and by
he came to conclude
that all he baptized
presumably by spit
were saved
oh what a show
Hamlets final soliloquy
was just as endemic
to social bedlam
and just as sweeping
America has cleaned house
who are the patriots now?