A message to the future revolutionaries

Memories of being the known unknown.

As a child I refused to be owned.

My bar code never displayed the right figures. Go figure, a fragmentation of

— gold figures, soaked in red African rivers.

To all my brothers and sisters.

Understand the pain in forgiveness.

They segregated the uncool. Left us sedated because they know

-we die soon.

Fly Gods with clipped wings evading government sanctioned cocoons.

-we die soon.

Bleeding from my corneas while looking at every corner.

My mother manoeuvred through the Reagan Era, I deserve to smoke marijuana.

So leave me alone. Leaves keeping my belief in a need to atone. Until I stumble into Fall,

suffering blending my wit and my wherewithal.

Fickle oligarchs distribute anguish on innocent lambs.

They show me rupees.

I show them the cuts on my hands.

Pursue your freedom with audacity.

Midnight’s alacrity makes alarms ring.

All the while a burnt out TV hisses;

the screen cracked to reveal a world of finer things.

.