twenty years ago we were hiding drinking on some rich kid’s parent’s boat dock spilling half baked militant poetry into a polluted intracostal naked beneath the moon on beaches beating guitars and hand drums hiding out in dumpsters with black cats and acrobats hanging in the banyan trees one step ahead of the police one step behind where we should‘ve been to fit in to find our place in the system of money lust white power privilege and a counterfeit freedom forcing us to make a choice or so we thought and so we screamed and pierced our bodies with steel and ink and fire brands bloodied our fists on concrete walls avoiding faces in the name of peace we finally sat silent in the streets for days refusing food until the sunrise and the tear gas scattered us in all directions dandelions on the wind seeds and rubber bullets and the best of friends spread out across the years and looking back some of us were broken on the rocks some of us conformed and built new docks still some of us remain beautifully inane hanging in the smoke beneath the stars and were not hiding anymore
Posted on: Tue, 09 Sep 2014 22:38:10 +0000
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