Rise? Rise. Dust of America,
Empty talk is over; for under
some lacklustre God have shoulders
dropped, factories rust shuttered
how our bible gives Babylon
God’s middle finger and
apple pie-….too much
noise from bodies thigh high
diamond glinting, righteously
broken, the way I like to see;
We must speak our minds openly.
(A person who is flat-chested is very hard to be a 10)
No more bitter, twisted lies. These
fleshed teardrops scattered like tombstones, my
people in the very dirt
like air – their different reality. Fluxed poverties,
cash flushed excite this daybreak that’s wondrously clear.
greasy dimes, a dollar welling swelling rise rise rise,
one dropping heavy as a nation made of flies.
Robbing so much potential…
get the job done. Merely
an orderly and peaceful power transfer. Why are
you besest with gloom? It’s just
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