If I were God, no tyrant’s fist Would strike the world and call it law. No throne would stand on broken backs, No crown be forged from cries of pain. The fattened few who drink from veins Of those who toil, who starve, who break, Would wake to find their golden feasts Had turned to dust upon their tongues. No child would fade to hollow bone, No mother beg for crusts of bread, No fa...

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I dreamt of a day
emptied of all beauty
human beings had banned

autonomy --crucified as a criminal
difference --blended as a flat smoothie
risk --quarantined as a leper
the divine --dubbed as a dunce
science --married as the state religion
journalism --spinning on the web

so, humans were screen-reeducated 
to march in lockstep

the same direction, wearing
the same expressions...

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this death will be the life of me

patches in the sky

we used to call them clouds

before the bombs went off

and canopied us in a toxic shell;

the artist swapped his brush

for a brick

and threw it in tantrum

from a distance

at some cheesy idyllic canvas

and despite our decaying teeth falling out

with clumps of hair and skin

you slipped out of your negligee

a li...

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