POEM: Revolutions Violent

Revolutions Violent

Any
That must dispose of
Remains
Mirrorly
A turning
Of the tables
Going round
Not with standing
How grate thou
And wore
A game that can only
you
Fraught with duel intentions
That two-sided sored
Giving rise to dark knights
In the theaters of
Gone batty by our blindness
Convinced of our sound
Squealing beyond any hearing of just us
Re-lying on eary reflections of
A doody-full radar responding to this MASH
Efficiently allowing for corporeal
Beyond the mountaintops
And promised lands
MLKing our hopes
With bullet points
Only outlining
The gravest of matters
In chalk
Where lies
And faux canons
Turn on
US

begets .  Violent revolutions must declare inviolate, seeding the next violent .  What goes around comes around.  Playing with ends up in us being played.   and killing demands the of another’s worth.  This is the first casualty of every fraught.  The drums of are beaten with solemn speeches, -challenged bullet points, and faux .  The myth of redemptive lays the bloody groundwork for in all forms, providing the easy cover of necessity — “you made me do it.”  As the theologian Walter Wink puts it, “The myth of redemptive violence is the simplest, laziest, most exciting, uncomplicated, irrational and primitive depiction of evil the world has ever known.”  Unfortunately, these unsound canons always turn on us eventually.  Of course, taking for our own actions, and our own dark impulses, may be even more difficult than making others pay for our shortcomings with their lives. Yet, as I like to say: peace may cost as much as , but it is a much better deal!

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